Finally (It's Happening To Me)!

I have fantastic news this morning, guys - I got a new a job! In my rather sorry state yesterday, I went for a second round interview with a company that I really really wanted to work for.... this is the job I wanted the most out of all the ones I've gone for. I met the Director of the Commercial Team, who I'd be working under, and everything went really well. I spoke to my agency afterwards and let them know I was keen, and they phoned back an hour later and told me they wanted to offer me the job! Apparently I've found the secret to giving great interviews - get pissed the night before (only kidding Mom, I promise)! So I'm waiting for the finalised offer to come through today, such as salary and benefits and things, but I basically know what's going to be in the contract, so I will just have to formally accept.

In keeping with my no names policy, I won't say which company it is, but it's working in radio, and the team I will be in is responsible for the marketing, sponsorship and events for all the radio stations on the company's portfolio. There are two perks I am most excited about: Number one - I will finally fulfil my ambition of seeing a bonafide celebrity, as in not someone from EastEnders or Hollyoaks, but a Hollywood Celebrity. The building I will be working in houses 5 radio stations, and A-List Celebs are constantly coming in to do promotions and interviews. Yesterday Will Smith was due to arrive half an hour after my interview to do promos for I Am Legend. Ok, closing my mouth and stopping the drooling right about now. The second thing is the free concerts. Apparently staff get complimentary tickets for every event under the sun in London, including all the huge outdoor London music festivals in the summer. So I plan on whiling away my time next year at Party in the Park, Get Loaded in the Park and the SW4, to name but a few.

It's pretty much perfection wrapped up in a package and placed under my Christmas tree. So I'm very very excited, and have just started telling my team. Understandably, there's a tinge of sadness accompanying my ecstasy, as despite my desperation to move on over the last 4 months, I adore my team here and will miss them a lot. They're all happy for me of course, but also moaning about how miserable I'm making them now that I'm leaving, which makes me feel good and bad at the same time! As I said, I'm waiting for all the details, but I think they will want me to start first week in January.

I'm cutting this post short now cos I have to e-mail everyone I know and tell them the impossible has happened - Lopz has actually been offered a permanent job in something she really wants. I know they all had faith in me, but I bet there will still be a level of "I don't believe it, she finally did it!" I know I'm still pinching myself to check that it's real. ;-)

Smells Like Just Spirit

I am so hungover today that even typing makes me feel sick. It's a Level 10 at the least, more likely an uncharted Level 12. I am so nauseous I can't drink anything - helpful, really, when you know the one thing that will make your body feel better is water - and eating was out of the question for most of the morning. I sat with an opened bag of crisps on my desk for an hour, desperately wanting to eat them but unable to suppress the nausea for long enough to swallow. You know it's a shocker when you can't eat; usually a plate full of the greasiest food imaginable solves all your problems.

So to what do we owe my sorry state of being? Our team Christmas party last night at Smollensky's. It was a good night, what I remember of it. It wasn't THAT bad... ok, it was, but I do remember more or less how everything went down. The part I'm a bit hazy on is where we went after dinner, what time we stayed there til and what time I got home. Oh yes, and who was there. Ok, quite bad then. At least I got a cab home, and somehow managed to pay for nothing the entire night again, including the cab. Damn, I'm good!

I was crapped on from a dizzy height by Shoes this morning though, as apparently I caused havoc on my arrival home. I do remember hiccupping a lot, but I don't remember it going on for half an hour (it did) and being so loud that Shoes could hear it through the wall when he had finally given up trying to sleep in the same bed as me and had removed himself to the lounge (it was). I also "stank like a brewery" (payback's a bitch then) and "snored like a chainsaw (again, hello pot I'm kettle). He shouted and slammed things a lot this morning, and then phoned to apologise once we'd both finally gotten ourselves to work. He says he was just worried about me coming home by myself in such a state... I told him to try saying so next time.

I have just finished my first bottle of water for the day - a whole 750ml. I can hear all the little cells in my body crying out in thirst, but tough shit, they'll have to make like an Arab in a desert for today and survive. Maybe they can nick some from my eyes, which won't stop watering as the eyeballs are practically buried under a layer of grime. Seriously, they're so dirty I can't see properly through my contacts, even though I have taken them out and cleaned them no less than 7 times today (my contacts, not my eyeballs obviously). And no, the dirt's not on the lenses, I did check that. How does one get one's eyeballs dirty? They should set up a research facility to study this. It's bizarre.

From The Horse's Mouth

Dear 13 Year Old Self

There's a trend in the blogging world at the moment to write a letter to yourself at age 13, so I thought I'd give it a go, since you know how much we love to write letters. Don't worry if you don't understand the word 'blogging' - it hasn't been coined where you are yet. You'll come to understand it later though. For now, just know it has something to do with our passion for writing, which is one of the reasons we decide to start one. You'll be glad to know we don't lose our love of writing, but we don't end up becoming a journalist like you think we will.

And listen up chick, I know you're still playing those sneaky games of Barbie with our childhood best friend Elke, so take my advice when I tell you it has to stop! You're too old for that now. But you're still wonderfully innocent, and you'll be glad to know you stay that way for a while yet. I think I've caught you just as Elke is about to move to America for good. I know you're heartbroken, and I know you feel like you will never find another friend like her. But I want you to dry your eyes, because we do find another friend to share everything with. Her name is Schmokkle, and she'll grow into the best friend we could ever hope to have. I know you've known her since you were 5 and you've always thought she was retarded, but that's only because she speaks German. Speaking another language does not make you retarded! What are you like, girl?

In about a year you're going to go on your first date. His name is Michael and he's a real gentleman, but don't be upset when he doesn't kiss you goodnight. He's even more scared than you are. After things don't go anywhere with Michael, you're going to start going to a few house parties. This is when you experiment with alcohol for the first time, and you have your first kiss. You don't get drunk - in fact, you'll be one of the few in your group who doesn't. You'll find you know how to stand up for yourself, so don't worry about the dreaded peer pressure: you're strong even at such a young age. When you get together with High School Obsession, you're going to think he's the only guy you'll ever love. Don't get mad at me ok, but you don't actually love him. You only think you do. Real love comes much later.

You're going to go on a church camp when you're 15, and you're going to come back with the conviction that the things you've been doing are wrong, and the friends you've been hanging around with are a bad influence. You're going to go and see your friends and tell them you can't hang out with them anymore. Don't ask me now if this is the right thing to do, because I'll say no, but you won't believe me. You're going to believe without a shadow of a doubt that you're doing what God wants you to do, and it's going to cause you so much pain. I wish I could forewarn you about how cruel kids can be towards things they don't understand, and I wish I could stop you from doing it to save yourself the anguish, but I know you won't be deterred. You're young but you're stubborn and you stand up for what you believe in. I admire that in you. Don't worry, even though things get shaky sometimes in the coming years, we never lose that quality.

As a result of this camp and your actions, you're going to lose all your friends for a while, even Schmokkle. It's going to take years before you all grow up enough to get some perspective about the situation, but I can promise you that eventually we do. Don't be too angry at Schmokkle when she turns against you - in her view you turned against her first. Just know that your friendship is strong enough to survive anything, and it does, even when it is sorely tested in later years.

While we're on the subject, I admire your convictions and your sense of truth, but the way you see the world is very simplistic. You see things only in black and white right now, and when you grow up you'll find the world is really coloured in shades of grey. Try to put yourself in other people's shoes a bit more. You'll find we become very good at that later on in life, but it would make things easier for you to understand if you could start now. You'd do well to remember that faith is about love and tolerance as much as it is about truth. Don't separate the two.

When you're 17, you're going to meet a guy who will take your virginity and your innocence in one fell swoop. I wish I could tell you to stay away from him, that he's going to turn your life upside down and destroy the very fabric of who you are. Mom and Dad and all your friends and family are going to warn you about him, but you're not going to listen. I wish there was some way I could protect you from what's going to happen to you, but there isn't anything anyone can do - you'll make a terrible mistake by getting involved with him and it's going to take you nearly three years to get out. When you finally do get out of the relationship, you're going to look in the mirror and not recognize the person looking back at you. Don't be afraid. You'll find out who that person is eventually, and you'll be so proud of who we become. Lean on your true friends. Trust your family. They will be the anchors that get you through this storm. Remember that it is our ability to overcome the trials on our lives that define us, not the trials themselves. He will not define who you are - only you will do that.

Be kind to your little sister. You don't know it now, but she is going to become one of the most important people in your life when you get older, and you're going to develop a bond the kind of which you can't even conceive right now. I know you think she's young and silly, but she's going to teach you so much about yourself, and you'll grow to need her as much as she needs you.

Don't be too hard on your parents. You're going to get so angry with them when you find out they aren't perfect, that they're people too and they make mistakes. Try to understand that they always have your best interests at heart, even when they do things that may seem to indicate the opposite. Always keep the lines of communication open. If you do that, you'll grow up to know the joy of being not only their cherished daughter, but one of their closest friends. I know you think that sounds crazy now, but you'd be shocked to learn how much we like hanging out with them later in life. Yes, we really hang out with them! Forgive them their mistakes. Take note of how many times over the next ten years they will have to forgive you.

When you're older and you meet a boy called Shoes, know that something very special is about to happen to you. You'll finally find out what true love really is. Don't ever take that for granted. Know that every second you spend with him is a treasure, and should be treated as such. Learn the differences between men and women. Don't expect him to understand you completely, just be grateful that he loves you enough to keep on trying. Have fun together. Remember to laugh. Don't be so serious all the time. You're young and you have the world at your feet. Know that you can do anything, be anything. You're going to get to a point one day when you no longer believe that, but you should. You should always believe in your dreams, even when they seem impossible.

If I could give you one piece of advice to keep with you through your teenage years, it would be to always focus on the good things in your life. You have so much to be thankful for. Don't ever forget to take a moment each day to appreciate that.

Love Your 27 Year Old Self

P.S. 27 is not old!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
P.S.S. Never ever drink kahlua and milk, it will make you REALLY sick.

It's Raining Men

Last week was pretty busy at work and I didn't get a chance to post, so thought I'd store up all the anecdotes and news tidbits for one whopper of a post this week. Of course, now that I'm there, I can't remember anything I wanted to write! I'm trying to get into the habit of scribbling ideas in my notebook as they come to me, but clearly I have some work to do before that actually takes off - like maybe picking up a pen.

I've had a number of interviews over the past week, and I've also had some pretty positive feedback, so I'm starting off this week feeling quite hopeful. The last one on my list is a second round interview on Wednesday, and that's the end of the current lot. They've started interviewing for my position at my company again, so I think they want someone to start as soon as possible in the new year. Which means I'm on a bit of a tight schedule if I want to get a new perm job without having to temp in between once I leave here. I'm hoping to have something good to report soon, but if I don't mention it again, assume nothing came of any of them and we're back to business as usual.

On Friday night I went with Mello and her GBF PrettyBoy to G.A.Y. at the London Astoria. Now, G.A.Y. is a club I have been dying to go to ever since I came to London. I remember walking past it in my first week here and reading with wonder the tattered flyers tacked to the intimidating black doors, advertising gigs by everyone from Madonna to Kylie to Atomic Kitten. I imagined drag queens clad in bustiers and feather boas a la Priscilla Queen of the Desert, and gorgeous gay Adonis in micro-hotpants and little else, their abs rippling as they shimmied their snake-like hips around the dancefloor. No, I don't have some weird sex fantasy involving gay guys, I just think most of them are hot! And how nice to be able to perve to your heart's content and know you won't have to deal with any unwanted attention resulting from your eyeballing. Plus, the gays know how to throw a party, it's a fact.

So when Mello invited me to spend the night treading the floorboards where many legends have gone before, I couldn't say no, despite only having £20 to my name. It was never going to be about getting pissed - £20 does not go far in a Central London club; instead, it was going to be about getting down!

We met PrettyBoy and his boyfriend The Brain at a bar in Leicester Square for some drinks beforehand. PrettyBoy is so named because he is exceedingly pretty in a delicate, almost ethereal kind of way. The Brain is big, black and intimidatingly smart (he's a teacher who moonlights as a playwright). I'm still learning my way around terminology in the gay community, and my first faux pax of the evening came in the way I addressed their relationship. Very proud of my integratedness that comes from hanging out with GBF, I casually asked how long PrettyBoy and The Brain had been partners for. PrettyBoy looked at me rather quizzically, while The Brain seemed set to hightail it out of the bar and down the road in a cloud of dust, Road-Runner style. He informed me, rather panickedly I thought, that the two of them have been going out for just 4 months, and that PrettyBoy is his boyfriend. Realising quickly that I had obviously attributed far more intensity (and perhaps fidelity) to their relationship than was warranted, I quickly backtracked and made a rather tasteless comment about casual sex, which drew further concern and raised eyebrows from both men. Righto, off to as good start now that they think I am both naive and a sexual merry-go-round.

The tables turned my way again when the guys discovered my age, and were in a state of shock, both declaring they didn't think I was a day over 23 (incidentally, this is both of their ages). They were fabulously complientary for the rest of the night, and by the time we left to hit G.A.Y. my head was twice its normal size. The Brain didn't come with us - apparently it's not really his scene. A gay guy doesn't like G.A.Y.? How is this possible, I mused to myself as we sashayed over. I was soon to find out.

We got in with no problems, despite being nervous about it. The club has a strict gay and lesbian majority policy, and if they suspect you're straight and the straights are outnumbering the gays inside, they'll very likely refuse you entry. It was early days though, so we cruised through. I was wearing a red catsuit, something I had my mom send up after I'd left it behind in CT, thinking I'd have no use for it. This was before I'd been out in London and realised there is no city in the world better suited to a catsuit. Scarf, who'd been at drinks with her work, had decided to come and join us, and I spent about 20 minutes in the lobby waiting for her. I now know that if I ever want to go to the club again and I'm worried about the quota issue, all I have to do is stand in the queue in my red catsuit, and I shouldn't have any problems. Luckily for me, the bouncers are all straight, and they were pretty much falling over themselves to offer their services (How many more of your friends are coming? Do you need more free entry vouchers? Are any of them straight?). Good to know that feminine wiles can still work in a gay club!

As much as I was looking forward to the night, and as glad as I am that I have finally been to G.A.Y, I don't know that I'll be going back - at least, not on a Friday night. This is simply because it is so cheesy, even Micky Mouse would have a problem with it. Heaven knows I love cheesy pop music, and shaking my ass to Britney and Rihanna is definitely my thing, but even I struggled with this. After spending about 20 minutes on the lower floor where they play 70's and 80's stuff, we moved up to the top floor where they play only 90's (nothing later), because as good as I am with old music, even I could only recognize 1 in every 6 songs on the lower floor. So 90's it was, and my goodness, what a heavy dose of it. After the stellar triple play including I Want It That Way by The Backstreet Boys, Ooh Aah.... Just a Little Bit by Gina G (who even remembers that song!) and No Limit by 2 Unlimited, I thought it could not get any worse. I was wrong. The low point of the night was a remix of My Heart Will Go On from Titanic, with the entire floor belting out the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

Don't get me wrong, I entered into the spirit of things with gusto, because I firmly believe that a good night out depends on much you're going to allow yourself to have fun, no matter what the circumstances. So I sang along with the rest of them, and shook my ass like my life depended on it. But could I reprise Celine Dion along with a cat's choir of 300 other people again? No way. Not even if the guys really did wear those micro-hotpants.

Baubles, Bangles And Beads

What a truly satisfying weekend. Well, I'm actually only talking about Saturday, but Saturday was my weekend, as it was so good the rest pales in comparison.

On Saturday The ArtyOne and I went to Clothes Show Live 2007 in Birmingham. To the uneducated (as I was until not too long ago), Clothes Show Live is the "largest fashion and beauty event in the world" according to NEC, the exhibition site that plays host to the extravaganza. 6 days, 7 fashion zones, 20 halls, 40 models and dancers, 450 fashion, hair and beauty companies and a sprinkling of celebrities all under one roof.... if women had wet dreams, this would be their inspiration.

The ArtyOne and I had free tickets, as third musketeer BlueEyes works on the show. Or maybe "works on the show" is a bit of an understatement - she is one of the elite handful who basically own the show. She is the show. Or at least, she was until Jesse Metcalfe from Desperate Housewives showed up.... then she was calling for a show(ing) along with the rest of the crowd.

Being a Very Important Person herself, she got us VIP tickets which had us sitting 5th row from the front for the 12:30pm catwalk show. Hunky Jesse introduced the event, and the rather young and almost entirely female crowd went apeshit (the weekend is pretty teenybopper, since they're at school on the other days). The ArtyOne and I were not that impressed.... I mean, yes, he's cute, but in a Hollywood, perfectly proportioned kind of way, and we both prefer out men a little messy and, well.... manly. Jesse is the fairytale Prince Charming - I prefer the Camel Guy. The Sugababes were next up, performing their latest single About You Now. I like some of the Sugababes music, but it's not going to get me jumping out of my chair or anything. Then the fashion show started, and gorgeous models interspersed with the best looking dancers on the face of the planet shimmied and boogied their way up and down the catwalk to everything from Britney Spears to Linkin Park. It was when the male dancers came out wearing jeans, leather jackets and nothing else that even I finally lost my cool. And then to make our already salivating lips smack even harder, they took off the jackets, did a spot of breakdancing and threw themselves into suggestive poses right on the front of the stage, just a few metres from where we were sitting. Two steps forward and I would have been tracing those those rock hard obliques with my fingertip. Mmmm. Very fine specimens.

After the excitement of the show, 3,000 very flushed women and girls made their way out of the theatre and hit the shopping halls to do some serious damage to their credit cards. In sticking with the imagery, the wealth of the shopping population started out at the level of the USA, and in less than half a day spiralled down to that of Ethiopia. 5 and a half hours straight, no eating, no drinking and no toilet breaks - we were on a mission. We descended on the hundreds of stalls touting clothing, make-up, accessories, make-overs and style sessions, spray-tans, workshops and wellbeing treatments of every conceivable sort. We bought goodie bags of make-up and beauty products for £10, when the contents were worth £40. We paid £2 for a beauty magazine complete with a skincare kit in miniatures. Gorgeous winter coats were flying off hangers at £15 a pop, and fashion items in styles to suit everyone on the planet were practically being given away for £5 or £10 a piece. Our arms were loaded down with bags to rival those under Amy Winehouse's eyes, but we felt no pain and no fatigue - we were invincible. We were like the Spartans in 300 - just a few souls with so very much to conquer, but our hearts were strong and our wallets generous; and when they stopped spewing out our life savings in cash, our plastic virtually melted in the team effort card swipes to keep the shopping spirit alive.

£90 later (and this was after having a budget of £20), I walked out of there with over £250 worth of clothing and beauty products. There are no words than can quite describe the satisfaction. Even better, when I told Shoes about my fantastic day, even he agreed it was an opportunity too good to pass up. Of course, he thinks I only spent £50..... lying by omission is sometimes the glue that keeps a relationship strong. ;-)

God Rest Ye (very) Merry Gentlemen

Top 10 Most Outstanding Moments at our Christmas Party:

1) Being greeted with free champagne on arrival, and the ensuing free-for-all mosh pit at the bar as people dived in to get the coveted - and limited - second glass.

2) Lunch being served an hour late, and the kitchen running out of turkey, causing a half hour delay while they defrosted some more. This was followed by same kitchen then ingeniously running out of strawberry roulade, causing an uprising as the peasants revolted and hurled abuse at the waiters, who hurled far more colourful abuse back (I'm hoping our reaction was reflected in their tip).

3) Drinking for free all night, after finding myself sitting next to Farhana at lunch and discovering she doesn't drink, and filching her tokens off her.

4) The "surprise entertainment" - salsa dancing lessons on a dancefloor the size of a postage stamp. Reminded me very much of that scene in Dirty Dancing where the guests are learning the side to side bunny hop. Unecessary and deliberately painful.

5) The Company's Got Talent - the shit PA system meant you couldn't hear the lyrics, the horseshoe shaped bar meant that only the 30 people gathered in the front could actually see anything, and sure enough, a group of semi-drunk girls thought it would be cool to get their karaoke on to Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive. Well done guys, this was clearly a roaring success.

6) Finding out a rather scandalous bit of office gossip about who's shagging who..... my lips are supposed to be sealed, but I may have to drop a hint to the person in question, it's just so good.

7) Finally revealing my tattoo to those in my team who've heard of it but never seen it (before you get any dirty ideas, it's across my lower back). Many compliments followed.

8) Spending the rest of the night running away from one particularly over-enthusiastic middle-aged male fan of my tattoo who decided it would be fun to a) try and touch it (read: major grope) whenever I walked past and b) look for other possible hidden tattoos on the rest of my body. There's always one.

9) Dancing. First with a group of people, then on my own when said group disappeared, then doing the tango (or trying to) with DB, the company's own perpetually pissed Don Juan.

10) Leaving with two of the guys on my team, and having everyone ask what time I kicked them out this morning. Juicier than the reality, which was a rather grumpy boyfriend shattered from a night of no sleep due to my excessive drunken snoring. Payback's a bitch!

Oh Come All Ye Faithful

Today is the day of my office Christmas party. We have two parties - the big company one today which most of the staff body attends, and our team party on the 18th. Of the two, the team party is the one that we are all looking forward to. That should be great fun - we're all pretty friendly, there's a certain level of close-knit camaradarie and we can get plastered without worrying about the Directors looking over our shoulders.

The party today, on the other hand, seems to have inspired a lot of grumbling and reluctance among the masses. Apparently if it's anything like the parties from years gone by, we are all going to be bored stiff by 8pm and only the hardcore (read: frowned upon losers) stay on to get well and truly pissed and create the few juicy stories that actually exist in the lore of these events. So I am feeling ever so slightly ashamed for being excited, but seriously? Grumbling about the chance to take most of the day off work and spend it eating, drinking and chatting? Who cares if no-one pukes in the pot plants? So what if people don't fall over on the dancefloor? I do enough of that when out with my mates, so a civilised Christmas gathering is quite attractive to me. And there is always one who defies tradition and causes drama. I can sit smugly assured that this time it will not be me.

The celebrations officially kick off at 12pm, when everyone is allowed to abandon their posts in the office and make their way to Sugar Reef Bar in Piccadilly. You might remember from a previous post of mine that Sugar Reef is the most expensive bar we've yet been to in London. As our £10 ticket covers the three course meal and 3 drinks throughout the course of a very long afternoon, I have already targeted the non-drinkers at my table with every intention of begging off their extra drinks tokens.

Lunch will be served at 2pm, whereafter there will be some sort of surprise entertainment, and then, horror of horrors, an event which is sure to inspire derision among the troops: The Company's Got Talent. A talent show inspired by Simon Cowell's Britain's Got Talent, complete with our very own Mrs Nasty judge. As much as this could be a rather hilarious and enlightening event if done properly, our staff have shown considerable stubborness in refusing to drop their oh so important "too cool for school" airs and graces, and I believe at this stage we only have one entrant - a rather eccentric Director who is doing a nasty and disparaging song/rap about another Director who recently left (ok, so this should at least be controversial, if not down right funny). I think overall it's a cool idea, but you need everyone on board with 100% enthusiasm to make it work. A half-hearted production will fall very flat.

To make things worse, because of the lack of entries into the contest, they have now extended it to include karaoke. So what's going to happen is, at about 6pm when most of us are pissed and some have a little Dutch courage going on, we are going to be subjected to some atrocious wailing to Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive, and any song from Grease by those whose Dutch courage leads them to believe that other people will actually be impressed by their attempts at singing.

As it's starting at 6pm, and many people with families will end up leaving around normal end of work time of 5:30pm, this stage might send at least another 50% packing, and so leave the few who actually want to kick back and get pissed before the disco starts at 8pm. We just have to somehow get through the preceding earache.

Anyway, it's a welcome change from the drudgery that is my daily routine, and I for one will enjoy myself, whether or not I have any comrades with me. I'll report back tomorrow morning as soon as I can sift through the thoughts in my no doubt addled brain.

Two Girls One Coup?

This weekend, I was introduced to the 'Two Girls One Cup' video that has been doing the rounds on the internet. I say introduced, because I refused to actually watch it. I believe there are some things in life you should never see, so that in your darkest or most depraved moments, you don't have that memory to call up and thereby seriously gross yourself out. The concept was explained to me, but since this is not a fetish blog, nor am I a person who enjoys those sorts of things, I'll refrain from explaining it here - google it if you're interested.

It did make me think though. What in the bloody hell drives a person to get off on that kind of thing? How do you first discover you're into something a little more sick and twisted than the rest of mankind? For example, do you - as a guy - go to a public urinal as a child and find yourself turned on by the sight of the guy next to you taking a leak (not the concept of this video, but take that about 1000 miles further and you'll get there)? What then? Do you drink more water/beer than the average Joe Soap so you can go more frequently? Is there a code by which you can identify other Piss Perverts, perhaps a hand signal... and then maybe a secret society into which you can be initiated? The mind boggles.

I am no prude, nor do I judge others for their weird and wonderful sexual tastes, but there is definitely a line, and finding videos like 'Two Girls One Cup' even remotely thrilling is just beyond me. And the most of the rest of decent society, I would imagine.

Speaking of weird videos on the internet, if you have a moment go and check this out:

http://www.runningfromcamera.blogspot.com/

Don't worry, there are no fetishes or kinky sex acts involved. It's simply a guy who has created a blog where he posts photos of himself running away from a camera, as said camera takes a timed photo of him. Many photos. Over and over again. In various different places. WTF? Is anybody else confused, or is it just me?

Thanks heavens for the crazy world we live in.... I think.

PS Just so you know, I googled the video concept myself and although I haven't seen it, I can tell you it's chocolate.