Confessions of a Kitty cat

2004-02-11T00:40:00.000Z

Look what's this???

*warpy music*

...ONE YEAR LATER...

Or thereabouts. I felt kind of bad about neglecting it, even if I cannot be held entirely responsible (things happen, you know? Plus I don't have a computer any more). So hello! What happened since the last time I posted? When was that anyway? April? Oh Jesus. Okay let's see.

May - whinged around being whingey and saying "oh tragedy!" a lot. Honed crush on Fanny Ardant. Didn't do much.

June - moved to Paris. Wandered around in Paris a lot. Occasionally wandered near where Fanny Ardant lives, got scared in case she came out of her house and saw me wandering, wandered away again. Fell in love with 1) a taxi driver lady, 2) a lady in the metro.

July - wandered some more. Got too hot. Did not wander near Fanny Ardant's house because makeup kept melting off with the heat. Wandered in parks and looked at pigeons. Sat around in cafés.

August - was too hot. Wandered a bit, shoes with spikey heels made holes in rue Lecourbe where the tarmac was melting a little bit from the hotness. Road where I live exploded. Lady got decapitated around the corner. Big mess.

September - slept with someone's wife. Actually that could have been August. Didn't like her, broke up with her about three times. Stopped wandering, whinged around a bit instead.

October - got stalked by someone's wife (the same one!). Wondered if this is maybe how Fanny feels even though I have been too busy to wander near her house since June. Got scared. Started wandering again. Found a Romanian girl.

November - had photoshoots for makeup artists. Posed around. Wandered some more. Was happy about no more hotness. Found a stray cat, lost it again, wondered suspiciously if someone's wife killed it. Thought maybe should stop hanging around with Romanian girl.

December - more photoshoots, less wandering due to spikey heels slipping around in ice. For Christmas got: 1) TS Eliot (a book, that is), 2) necklace, 3) flu (from Romanian girl).

January - went to premiere of Fanny Ardant's latest film with a lot of girls who love Fanny. No boys for some reason. Fanny Ardant walked next to me (but didn't notice me because was looking either at floor or at co-stars and giggling a lot)!!! Emmanuelle Béart stared at me!!! Life is good.

February - well, it's only just started, hasn't it?

My friend Kerouac and I are planning an orgy. So far the invited people are me, him, Fanny Ardant, Catherine Deneuve, Isabelle Huppert, the Romanian girl, Madonna (the Romanian girl likes her), George Clooney (not sure why), and Orlando Bloom (definitely not sure why. I asked Kerouac and he said that he thought probably George invited him).

This is fun, though. Paris, I mean. I'm not really doing anything except going to the cinema a lot, and hanging around in cafés talking to people feigning philosophical enlightenment, but that's fine with me. Also I'm glad I haven't run into Fanny. I could just see the conversation.

Me: "FANNY!!!!!!"
Fanny: "No, no, it's not."
Me: "OH MY GOD!!!! FANNY!!!!!!!!"
Fanny: "I was just leaving, actually."
Me: "I LOVE YOU FANNY!!!!!!!!"
Fanny: "Please let go of my leg."
etc

How is everybody, anyway? I would like to know. Please tell, do! Do my comments still work, actually? It says I don't have any, that doesn't seem right, maybe I am just Abandoned. Well, if they do, tell me how you are. If they don't... what do I know?

Possibly more one day.

Kitty
xxx

2003-04-22T19:49:00.000Z

On a Melodrama scale of 1-10, I have reached "Gloria Swanson"

Oh, goodness. I'm back in England at the moment, for Easter. Well, Easter's over now, but I'm just waiting to get back to Paris. I have to stay in a hostel. Or get a live in job. Or something

I'm not going to be an au pair, though. I tried that for about two weeks in the South of France, and it was terrible! On the first day, the man told me that my legs were really beautiful. I got uncomfortable and said something like, "Oh, it's nothing, I'm going to run to fat soon anyway" and then he started fondling my wrist and saying that he was just looking at my wrist because his girlfriend could tell from people's wrists whether they would get fat or not, and my wrists are lovely too aren't they? Over the course of the next two weeks I discovered that he was also racist and sexist, and judging by the comment he made about "sissyboys" he was a homophobe too - all hidden hypocritically away because he wanted people to think he was a fine person. He really believed he was, too.

I had to look after a baby! Can you imagine? I was terrible at it, of course, and I had to look after a ten-year-old too (which wasn't as bad). The lady in the house was nice. But unfortunately I hated the man so much that I wrote down a whole load of mean things about him and the whole setup in my diary, and then they read my diary, and now they hate me back. Especially since I wasn't too fond of the baby either.

Sigh. It's like one of those caper movies, you know?

Anyway. Pretty soon I will stop wallowing around in all this self-pity and whinge whinge and stop talking about how I worked 75 hours the first week and got paid £70 and then worked 50 hours the second week and got paid zilch (teenagers are not good things to be if you don't want people to exploit you like this). But for now, well, I'm complaining!

I feel kind of bad about it though, because I wrote mean things about the lady too and she really was pretty nice. I think she tried to be nice, anyway. She said rude things, though, but I don't think she thought she was being nasty. It just happened that way.

Oh-Poor-Me. This doesn't suit me at all, so I'm going to quit.

How is everyone else? Did you hear about Nina Simone? She was such a cool lady. I miss my blog. And I miss reading everyone else's. I am trying to catch up but it's been a while and people talk a lot. Sorry about being so whiney. I won't do it again.

Kitty xxx

2003-03-21T22:32:00.000Z

Eeeeeeee!

Mais non. Moi, j'ai pas peur. Pas du tout.

Okay, so I'm totally lying, but eeeeeee! again! I'm moving out! I'm going to be totally on my own! And in a scary part of Paris that can be dangerous at night! (However, it's just a short Metro ride to Rue Saint-Denis - Kitty's gonna get herself a hooker, oh yeah. Or perhaps become one, if there aren't any waitressing jobs. I really shouldn't have dropped out of high school.)

Di! Ecce hora. Mater mea me necabit, because I'm going to pack stuff now, and it's probably going to wake her up. I'd include pater mea, but he sleeps through everything. Oh, denuone Latine loquebar? Me ineptum. Interdum modo elabitur. God, I love Latin. It's so much fun.

I'm going to have a good time in France, really. I am. Franci quidem artem amatoriam invenerunt, don't you know? So that'll be fun, especially when I get the hookers (the Metro stop is Strasbourg St.Denis, if anyone feels like going hooker-shopping with me).

Latin! Yay. I learned Latin in high school. We had a Latin chanty thing that we all had to chant together and it made us sound like Gregorian monks, you know? It was kind of fun. Aside from the people who sang stuff like, "quidem penis", it went:

Qui fidelis est in parvo
In multum quoque est fidelis
Nisi dominus aedificaverit domum
In laborat vanum qui aedificant eam
Nisi dominus custodierit civitatem
Frustra vigilit qui custodit eaaaaam.

God, my school was great. Really. We played hockey and wore kilts, and had a Head Girl and Three Minor Head Girls who were angry looking. And there were no nasty boys. And there were only about twelve people in each form, and two forms per year, so everyone sent everyone else a Christmas card. My ex-school! Woo!

Okay, I'm going to go and pack because... well, I need to, don't I? See you in Paris! Die dulci fruere!

Kitty xxx

2003-03-11T02:42:00.000Z

It took over a month, but...

Is Kitty back? Is Kitty really back? Well, let's see. Kind of. For now. Until the 22nd, when I move to Paris and all is history (you will have to imagine my life then - I will be too impoverished to be able to limn my life for you). Well. I might be able to update sometimes. I'm saying that in a certain tone of voice - the tone you use when you go to someone's house for dinner and they produce something green and steamy known as a broccoli, anchovy and marshmallow bake, and you say, "This looks like it might be nice".

News in Kitty-city since last update:

Kitty is proud to announce that she passed her driving test first time, mainly due to involving driving examiner in long and uninteresting conversation about his caravanning holidays and finishing test by doing imitation of a sheep (Kitty imitated the sheep - not the examiner. He just looked scared). Thus, driving examiner did not notice that Kitty was actually driving quite horribly.

Kitty has become more smug, if possible.

Kitty is going to get her roots done and is dreading a return of the Yellow Hair.

That running lady whom Kitty was going all sweaty over about seven months ago, appears to have done the unthinkable and got married. To a man. Crazy. Kitty now owes Renée £5 for bet re: running lady's sexuality. Damnit. I think she's just in denial.

Kitty still loves Patsy Kelly.

Kitty still loves Fanny Ardant, but not in The Woman Next Door.

Kitty is going to "iViva!", the Spanish film festival, this weekend. To see Sin Noticias De Dios. Well, really to see Fanny Ardant in it, but who's counting?

Kitty has decided that next year, she will run for MP. Kitty's plans are Machiavellian. Kitty will soon be the Queen of Everything!! (Please vote for Kitty.)

Kitty is getting a new blog after this, and if everyone is nice, she will cast off the Kitty-cape and reveal her true identity! (Hint: It's not Peter Parker.)

Kitty is even more obsessive-compulsive than before, and now makes her bed at least once every day.

There we are. All done and updated, and now everyone knows! Oh, how I love writing in the third person. Goodbye, everyone. And god speed.

Kitty xxx

2003-02-07T23:17:00.000Z

Teeny teeny update

Catherine Deneuve Injured in Car Crash

French actress Catherine Deneuve has been slightly injured in a car crash in Paris, France. The accident happened on Tuesday night at a road junction. The Dancer In The Dark star was taken to the Hopital Americain in Neuilly-sur-Seine, near Paris where she was treated for injuries to her back. The animal rights campaigner was released from hospital the same night.

Pauvre Catherine! Get well soon, kiss kiss.

Kitty xxx

2003-02-05T16:37:00.000Z

Patsy!!!! Yay!!!

I read an article about blogging today. I discovered I'm doing it all wrong. But what the hay. I only updated five times last month! That's so bad of me. It means that I did not update twenty-six times. Granted, some of the time I couldn't get to a computer - but some of it I have no excuse for (and "I couldn't be arsed" is probably not an excuse).

I hereby promise to update more, and be an altogether better person.

My lovely lovely wonderful friend who I love (smooch) did something nice for me! He lives in Hollywood so he went to the Walk Of Fame and visited Patsy Kelly's star and took pictures!! Bless. Here, behold Patsy's star:

And... umm... this is the building that Patsy's star is right next to:

And, quite amusingly, this is the star next to Patsy's:

It's funny because before he went, I was talking about that I want to have the star next to hers, and it turns out I can! It's right there, waiting for me! All I have to do is something wonderful that makes me famous. Then... yeah. Walk Of Fame. Doris Day has two stars. So does Eve Arden. I only want one. That one.

In other completely-non-me-related news, the (joint)-coolest French lady in the world, Fanny Ardant, is nominated for a César! Heh heh. I so need to get a life. But regarde!

Anyway I really must go. Because I just got out of the shower and I'm only wearing my dressing gown but for some reason I must have thought, "Hmm, instead of getting dressed I should go online", and I did. And I'm cold.

Kitty xxx

2003-02-04T17:54:00.000Z

No more toasters, no more for me

I may (heh) have mentioned before that my friends have a tendency to use me as an agony aunt. I think this probably happens to everyone. But now this has escalated, and now even my driving instructor is spilling his guts (not literally, I want to point out) every driving lesson. Dear Crabby? It's terrible. I listened to him for two hours last night, and heard far more details than I think I needed to know. I mean, I already knew he was shacking up with one of his driving students (who is one month older than me - sacre bleu!) and that he was still married... but last night it just went on for ages. Meh. Sorry. I am not good with other people's problems. The worst thing is, they think that I am. I don't know how my cold, callous interior somehow comes across as, "Oh, do share, dear - let me be your shoulder to cry on in any time of need" but apparently it does.

Aren't I evil?

Oh, I don't know. I got bored in the end. He asked me to tell him something interesting that happened to me lately, so I just made a bunch of stuff up. You see, nothing interesting really does happen to me, aside from video shopping, and he probably didn't want to hear about that.

I have a mental picture of everyone with "How To Tell If A Person Is Evil" checklists, ticking things off and sighing at my soon-to-be-doomed-ness. I can't help it! Never mind, never mind.

Can you tell I'm in a slightly odd mood tonight? I think it's the position I'm sitting in. All leaned over. That must have something to do with it - it's most likely messing up my inner karma by shoving it all to one side. Ommmm.

Kitty xxx

2003-02-03T20:14:00.000Z

List

Videos I bought over the weekend:

1. Belle De Jour
2. La Cérémonie
3. Entre Nous
4. Metropolitan
5. Chocolat
6. Cries & Whispers
7. Celebrity
8. Snow White: A Tale Of Terror
9. Topper Returns
10. Vivement Dimanche!
11. La Femme D'à Côté
12. The Philadelphia Story

Other things I got:

1. Funny looks
2. One (1) bad chat-up line
3. Aching arm muscles

Reasons why I am writing this entry like this:

1. I am bored
2. It seems appropriate
3. Listing things is supposed to sort your head out. My head does not need sorting out. However, see 1.
4. Lists look nice on the page
5. Why not?

Feelings I am having:

1. Wanting to jump up and down clapping (for no specific reason: I just always feel like that)
2. Slight guilt about feeding my video addiction
3. Ecstasy due to having fed my video addiction
4. Peevishness about the pasta-and-tomato-and-cheese thing for dinner
5. Complacency about my new curvy figure - 37-24-37! Good vibes really do work!
6. Smugness due to many factors, including but not limited to the fact that hardly any of the videos I got were in English

Miscellaneous:

1. I am going now.
2. I need to practise more.
3. Goodbye.
4. Kitty xxx

2003-02-01T13:49:00.000Z

If you would be so kind...

Kitty is now famous. Look. Mmmmhmm. I hope you are all very impressed.

Anyway, I have a burning need to go video shopping right now, so I can't write any more. Sorry!

Kitty xxx

2003-01-29T16:56:00.000Z

Get me a bromide - and put some gin in it!

I am in such a talkative mood today. I have been so garrulous that I lost my voice at 2.30pm. Quite an achievement, wouldn't you say? Well, you'd better. And now that I have succeeded in fixing my computer (APPLAUSE! APPLAUSE!), I think I might take it out on you.

Also I'm going to do something that is almost unheard of here in Kitty-land. I'm going to get Political. This is rather an oddity; normally when someone asks me about Al Qaeda, I respond with, "I don't think I've seen any of his movies". Oh well. Maybe I won't bother then. But... Politics! Ugh. If we didn't have politics, we'd have world peace. That's what we should do. Get rid of all the politicians and governments and everything. And we should stop obsessing over everything and trying to kill each other. On the news today (we always watch the news, because we love Anna Ford. I'm talking about me and my sister, I'm not just being Queenly) they had a thing about George Bush's speech ("tonight I have a message for the brave and oppressed people of Iraq: Your enemy is not surrounding your country, your enemy is ruling your country. And the day he and his regime are removed from power will be the day of your liberation" - but ya know, until then we'll just kill you), and then they had something about people being stressed. Of course people are stressed. Everyone's telling them to be stressed, all the time.

I am never stressed for a few reasons. 1) I am very spoiled and therefore never do anything that might induce stress in any form; 2) I don't like to live in a hurry. Also I don't like to plan ahead - if you do that too much, then you have to start planning stuff like death, and that's just silly. My theory might not be very good but I don't care; 3) You can't be smug and stressed at the same time, and I am always smug.

I really am such a shrew these days. I have a friend who is a year older than me. We used to get on really well and have conversations that went: "Like, ohmygod, I was at this party last night and I got so totally wasted, dude, I like crawled under the table!" Now, though, I pretend to be very uptight. I don't think I really am, but I fake it. Isn't that odd? But anyway. She is still the same, but now I say things like, "Oh, darling, don't swear, please don't. Just because you can't be profound, that's no reason to be profane." I am turning into an ENGLISH TEACHER. I am also rather nasty, because she is my friend and I am mean to her. Maybe I'm turning into Anne Robinson, now that I come to think of it. I hope someone stops me before I get the haircut.

George W. Bush: "This dictator, who is assembling the world's most dangerous weapons..." Hmmmmmmmm. Take out the speech marks and you might just have something.

See, look how political I am? Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Let's all be very deep and concentrate on that now, shall we?

Ugh. I'm so annoying. I think I will spend the rest of the day cultivating delicate manners.

Kitty xxx

2003-01-27T01:10:00.000Z

I really must update more frequently

I'm so happy. But I don't have anything to write about. Well, I do, but I wrote it somewhere else - I am sorry. When my computer manages to fix itself (which it had better do because I hate-hate-hate sending it to the shop), then I can update more. But not yet.

Kitty xxx

2003-01-21T00:11:00.000Z

J'ai m'acheter des bas!

Alright, well, this still isn't my computer. This is the other, evil, one. Except that this one is actually a lot better-behaved than my computer and does not enjoy freezing and closing itself down randomly. So maybe I should secretly switch this one for mine, when nobody is looking. Anyway, what was I talking about? Right. Yeah. Patsy's birthday. Well, I wasn't, but I'm going to start talking about it now. I did a little celebrating thing with a party hat/bottle of Tanqueray and took a little picture too, of me celebrating. My hair looks too straight in the picture (it's the only thing about me that is, honey! Well, aside from the tanqueray. Hahahaha). I think she would approve though. Yeah! Alcohol!

In Paris I got offered two jobs. How cool am I? One of them was a stage at Féraud which really I should take, but I don't want to at all. I hate fashion people. My friend Kerouac said that I should definitely do it. He got all, "Oh, just think Kitty, you could be a supermodel!" and I said, "I have just thought and no." I'd never want to be a supermodel. How horrid. You'd have to stand around looking out of it all the time, and also I'd probably have to lose a lot of weight. And I'll be damned if I'm going to do that again! I have finally managed to push my weight out of the Dangerously Underweight category into the Normal bit (well, it's sort of fuzzing around at the Normal line, but it's okay) and I'm not changing that. Zut. Damn fashion people. Oh, what was I saying? Yeah. The other job was waitressing, and I kind of do want to do that. I'm going to work! Work really hard for a change, and live in a teeny little one-room thing with a shared bathroom, and have to scrounge around for metro money, and stop sponging off people. I know that within a week of starting this I will be suicidal but never mind. Because that is being independent and although I really don't know what's so great about being independent, I will do it anyway.

It was so cold in Paris though. It was minus six degrees all week, and the headlines all said "FROID!" and all the news was about people in Paris dying from the cold, and one day we went out to the syndicat d'initiativ which happens to be on the Champs Elysees and it was so cold that it felt like my leg bones had been replaced by frozen rods of iron. Let's see, what else did I get up to... oh, well, I looked at the Eiffel Tower (because I am still mentally aged about three when it comes to this - and some other things - and every time I go to Paris, I have to see the Eiffel Tower) but not close up because it's always so filled with tourists, just from the bit where you can see it and all the little fountains in front of it. But they were all frozen too, and people were walking on the ice and screaming and laughing about it. They have odd senses of humour. And we went to Samaritaine which is this big department store and if you go to the top of it, you can see all over Paris and not many people know this so it's not usually too crowded. It was too cold to stay up there long though. So we went back in and I got 8 Femmes on DVD. Yay!!!!!! It was on about four DVDs actually, with special features and audio CDs and little booklets and stuff. How wonderful. I also got stockings with seams, but it was too cold to actually wear them. And umm... we didn't get to go to any of the really good shops because of the horrible coldness, but we did go to Galerie Lafayette or whatever and I got a gorgeous Burberry dress, and yes, I am aware of the irony that Burberry is English. And what else. Oh, I can't remember. Lots of restaurants and stuff, I think. Oh!!!!! And we saw 8 Femmes at le Grand Pavois, at 9pm on a Wednesday, and there were only four other people in the cinema, and my mother and I were cracked up the whole time, and afterwards my father said, "It was ok-aaaaaaayy, but..." Silly man. He agrees with us about Fanny Ardant being wonderful, though. But he said that Catherine Deneuve looked matronly. Matronly!!!!! Jesus, I wish I looked matronly if that's what it's like.

Alright, umm, what else. A little kid in the airport thought I was famous. Hehehe. She asked if I were a chanteuse. Just because I stomp around looking angry with a bunch of people carrying my cases, feh, I don't know! Anyway then we went to Nice on the train, and I somehow managed to catch flu on the journey (no idea how. But I was fine in the station in Paris and then in Nice I was all coughing and sore-throaty). Nice, well... either it's changed or I have, but it's not as nice as I remember, if you'll pardon the expression. There's this long road along the seafront called the Promenade Des Anglaises and really, that's what it is. It's filled with these horrible women, with highlighted pouffy hair and lip-lined collagen mouths and incredibly expensive handbags and tight jeans and bad shoes and cheap face lifts that make them look as though they had accidentally sat upon a sharp stick. Footballers' wives types. You know. Yech. It's warmer than Paris, though. All palm trees and orange trees and ocean, and neon lights. Hm.

Anyway you'll have to forgive me if this is even less coherent than usual because I am running a temperature and stuff. It's weird. I never, ever get ill. And then when I go to Nice I do. It's an omen! It is. Oh, I forgot to tell you - the Féraud lady who offered me the stage thing was v. v. pretty. But she must have been in her 50s and therefore out of my league. There was a girl in the airport too who was incredibly overt and non-subtle about eyeing me up, not that I minded because she was quite attractive in an Isabelle-Huppert's-eighth-cousin-twice-removed kind of way. In Paris I only saw one butch girl the entire time and she was a security guard at the airport. All the ladies there have lots of lipstick and messy hair. And they all have brown eyes too. I'm getting so confused at the moment so I had better stop writing. Also I am still thinking in a weird French-English hybrid, I keep translating all my thoughts into French, and lately I have been doing something crazy. Which is, walking around, talking to myself, in French, armed with the dictionary so that when I want to say something to myself but I don't know how, I can just look it up and then continue my conversation, if you can call it that. Well, my conversation with other people tends to monologue anyway, so it probably doesn't make much difference. Oh, my head hurts.

Kitty xxx

2003-01-19T21:58:00.000Z

Honey, I'm home!

Yes, that's right people, you can stop your panicking and running around screaming, "Oh where is Kitty, is she dead?", because I'm back. (And you didn't panic and scream half enough for my liking. You all suck.) I have been in France! Where I did not see Catherine Deneuve or Fanny Ardant, not even a little bit, not at all! I saw other stuff though and I will tell you about it when I can be bothered. But for now I have the flu and also my computer is being mean and doesn't want to connect to the internet (nor to play DVDs, despite the fact that when I got it it was showing off about being able to do that. It was all, "Look, I have a DVD thing too, how great am I?" but it always freezes and if you try to look at the special features it's all, "what the hell do you think you're doing?" and it performs illegal operations and closes down. One day I will succumb and buy a real DVD player. But not yet. I am still too proud for that) and yeah.

The normal stream of disjointed chatter will be resumed shortly. One last thing: Happy belated posthumous 93rd birthday, Patsy!!!!!!!! Mpwah. I love you. (Her birthday was the 12th, if you're interested...)

Kitty xxx

2003-01-01T18:03:00.000Z

New Year = New Kitty?

Last night I was looking around for something fabulous to wear, and failing. It was almost midnight and so I was in a hurry (Cinders, Cinders, do not fear! Your fairy godmother is near!). So I just put on my coat (which is actually very fabulous, I should have just looked for it in the first place) and heels, over my underwear, and went out to look at the fireworks in the below zero night. Well, it's different, I guess.

Oh and yes - I woke up wearing something great. A black negligée and somehow, black high-heeled shoes that I don't remember putting on. I was wearing black eyeliner and red lipstick when I went to bed. When I woke up, my pillow had stolen my makeup look. Feh. Damn pillows. You can't trust anyone, can you?

About Bowling For Columbine - I think people should see it. I'm giving it a nine out of ten, at least I would if I dealt in nines and tens and that.

This year, I haven't actually walked anywhere without heels on. Not even across my bedroom or anything. And so far today I have worn four pairs of shoes. Isn't that crazy? I have shoes to go with everything. Candy-pink ones (which have six inch heels and are a lot of fun) to go with my dressing-gown. Rainbow shoes to go with... umm... I don't know what exactly, but they're pretty. Holographic ones, except that I don't know where they are, and even if I did, I wouldn't wear them now. Shoes are probably the most important things in the world. Therefore, on Friday, I will be going shoe shopping. Gina shoes!!!!! (Although, I must say, they aren't as nice as they once were. Where's the Spring collection when you need it?)

I love new years. People think I don't, but really I just don't like the drunken new year parties. New years themselves are great! This year is going to be the most wonderful year ever. What better way to start the year than with a Tale Of Tallulah (TM)?

Ted Hook (one of Tallulah Bankhead's caddies) was afraid to leave her. One night, after a few hours out, he returned to the town house and smelled smoke. He rushed into Tallulah's bedroom. Doloras, the Maltese that ordinarily slept above Tallulah's head, was on fire like some flaming halo. Tallulah had apparently just fallen asleep, after flicking her ashes onto the sleeping dog. Ted now rushed into the bathroom for water, yelling, "Tallulah, Doloras is on fire!"
She awakened. "What is it?"
"Tallulah, Doloras is on fire!"
"Well, for chrissakes, put her out," she said and went back to sleep.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-31T16:45:00.000Z

La la la la la la la la! La la la la la la la la!

I saw a programme today. It had lots of those groups on - the ones who do dance routines and look happy. And some of those ones with the boys with guitars who jump up and down howling their songs (which are usually called things like "Phuk You (I'm Not Going To Klean My Room)"). They're so cute! I'm sure the groups are getting younger. They all looked about eleven years old. Either that or I am getting older. What the hay - let's cha-cha!

That's my personal motto from now on. It's no longer "I just thought I'd share", because 1) that's not a motto anyway and 2) I should probably say it less. "What the hay - let's cha-cha" is far better. I bet you didn't know you could cha-cha sitting down, did you? Well, you can. I know, because I'm doing it right now. I think that tonight I might go to bed wearing a wonderful outfit so that when I wake up, I'm all dressed up for the new year. I should start as I mean to go on, and I mean to be pulchritudinous.

Now, though, I'm going to get all serious and lovey-dovey-corner about the other people I know on here. That's all the people in my list thing, and especially people like Miss Fee (who by the way I had a conversation with last night which I remember almost nothing about, due to various factors including but not limited to my being very tired after cha-cha-ing down the street about four times, but I'm not going to go into that), Blue, the Monkey girl and of course Maggie who was probably the first person who ever read my blog, ever. And a lot of other people who I have neglected to mention and who will probably hunt me down and kill me because of it. If I forgot you which I may have done, I am sorry. Blame it on my hair colour. But I love you ALL. You fabulous people. Mpwah. Big kisses.

There, I'm done getting all mushy all over the place now. Wasn't that fun? Don't worry, everything will be back to my particular brand of persiflage shortly. Do not adjust your monitor (unless it's doing that weird colourful-around-the-edges thing that mine is prone to. Then you have to degauss it). Is this going to be my last post of the year? If it is, I should make it memorable in some way, I think. Maybe Patsy Kelly pictures or something! ...except that I do that all the time. Maybe I should go all highfalutin' (hee! I LOVE THAT WORD!) and fill this entry up with afflatus and then look at everyone, smugly. But I'm not sure that I'm very good at imparting wisdom, as I have very little wisdom to impart, and as yet only one wisdom tooth. How cute. I am teething! When I get more teeth, then I'll impart all over the place. All the doodah day. Until then I can't, can I? And it's really unfair to expect me to.

I lost track of what I was saying. I always make new paragraphs when I do that. I think it's a good thing to do. Today I'm so happy, for no real reason except that it's fun to be ebullient, and also I turned down every single party invitation and therefore do not have to go out! Which makes me sound like a hermit or something. I'm not exactly a hermit - I just like to be unexpected.

Ottava rima? Me? That can't be right!
   Too frivolous? But tut, there's no such thing!
Let others ponder thoughts of wrong and right,
   Or sit and think how much they love the spring;
I'd rather spend my time in gleeful spite,
   Or maybe laugh, or maybe sit and sing.
Besides, it might be fun to be inspiring -
But surely it would get so very tiring.

What Poetry Form Are You?

Oh what fun! Yay! See, a poetry form test. That's a cut above the "If you were a jelly baby, what flavour would you be?" tests that I normally do. See, I am being sophisticated.

Happy New Year everybody!

Kitty xxx

2002-12-30T15:40:00.000Z

Thankyou, Pink Martini

Isn't Ona Munson just lovely? This is Ona Munson:

I think I would be doing a lot better if I could stop thinking in tracking shots.

Okay then. I'm going to see Bowling For Columbine tonight, I think. Until then I'm just going to sit around and listen to Pink Martini or something, because I can't practise because it's too cold and also I think I sprained my wrist. It's done something horrible anyway and it had better have mended itself by tomorrow otherwise I am going to freak out everywhere.

In the middle of writing that I got a phone call. Another party invitation! I feel so popular. Feh. I said no, so the girl said, "Well, what are you doing on Saturday?" and I said, "I'm flying out to Paris. Sorry, dahling." I am so unspeakably jet-set.

Maybe if things were different I would go to those parties. Time was I would have. But I do not think that those parties are better than pink champagne any more. Perhaps the parties are now worse, or perhaps it is simply that I have succumbed to alcoholism since discovering the 1940s.

Declining is better, anyway. I think I might start cultivating a lugubrious air. Ex-oh.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-29T12:17:00.000Z

In general, ladies who are dead do not blink.

I've noticed that an awful lot of people are arriving here after searching for "confessions of a cat". Some of them might possibly be looking for me - but what the hell do the others want? Confessions of a cat? ?!?!?!

Sigh. People are tiring of me lately. I used to be more fun, I'm sure of it. Now I have grown dull and people don't want to listen to me any more. I guess that's the problem with me. I am sort of interesting at first, like watching a car crash, but after a while it's all the same, blah blah blah, Patsy Patsy Patsy, and so people leave. What the hay. I can't help it.

Speaking of Patsy Kelly...

See, I'm being seasonal! Oh and look:

Fanny Ardant. I get all swoony. I think I might start swooning everywhere, like Danielle Darrieux in Madame De.... It would be funny. Hehe. Sorry, I think I may be in an odd mood.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-28T18:26:00.000Z

Rrrrowr

You know in Beauty And The Beast? Is it just me, or is it always so disappointing when the Beast turns into the Prince at the end? You get to liking him and all that, and then he goes poof, and turns into a bloke who looks smug and says, "Well, Beauty, get a load of me! I'm not hairy and roary any more!" And poor Beauty, after building up a relationship with the Beast, hairs and roars and all, has to simply leap into his arms. She wouldn't like him any more. I don't think she would, anyway. She likes Beasts - maybe she is into bestiality or something - so she wouldn't want just another man. There are zillions of them, all over the place, just lying around.

I went shopping today! I only have one more Fanny Ardant film to buy. Then I have the full collection. Well, not the full collection - just the full available collection. Which is five films. The only one I don't have out of them is, coincidentally, the one I want the most - Ridicule. I think I'll get it next week or something. Even Finally Sunday is deleted but I'll probably be able to find that somewhere. Hunting down videos is so much fun. I am sure I should get a life and find pleasures in bigger things than looking for videos, but it's funner this way. It means that when I find them, I can do the Kitty Dance Of Joy, all squealing and hopping and hugging strangers and squealing some more, like a pig. Just because of a video. Yay!

I so need to go clothes shopping. The only item of my clothing that I truly adore is my candy-pink dressing gown. And although I love it, I can't wear it around Paris - well, I could try, but I'd probably get banned.

No writing in this from the 4th-18th January! Oh, no. How am I going to cope? Maybe I should take notes, or something. And pictures. I'm going to the opera! Yay. And the ballet. Perhaps it's or the ballet... I don't remember. Doesn't matter.

Elch. New Year soon. I don't like New Year - everywhere fills up with drunk people who resemble the horrible people who were on Big Brother this year. It's all so very uncouth. When I'm older and have a house and am altogether fabulous, blah blah, I will have my own New Year party. It's going to be in the ballroom of my house, and I'm going to write on the invitations, "Dress: UP!" You have to be resplendent! And you have to do the rhumba all night. All night long. And you have to tango, too, and cha-cha, and all that good stuff. And if anyone attempts to bring beer, or S Club CDs, they will be immediately ejected from the house, via the roof. Oh, and they get kicked out if they wear denim, too. I hate denim. Feh. Denim. It's workmen's attire.

Until I have my party, though, I am turning down every invite. "So regretful. I can't come. I will have a cold on New Year's Eve." It's like that thing - if someone asks you to have dinner with them on Monday, say, you reply: "What makes you think I'll be hungry on Monday?" Unless you want to go, then you just say "okay" or something. I always say no. Heh heh heh. I am such a shrew.

There aren't any nice clothes in this town. I know because I looked in all the shops. Well, almost all. My mother was helping me shop (with her credit card). We were holding things up saying, "Would Ava Gardner wear it?" "No." "Well, would she wear this?" "No." "Where did Ava Gardner shop, anyway?" "She probably had things made." "Can I do that?" "No. There aren't any good dressmakers here." "Would she wear this?" "Hell no." What the hay. I'll look in Harvey Nichols or something, maybe tomorrow if it's open. There's one in Leeds. I got invited to their party this year. Pah. I don't go to things like that, even if they do sell Gina shoes. Swoon. Gina shoes. They make me come over all funny. Although it has to be said - lately they're going into kitten heels. Kitten heels are evil! They take a perfectly nice shoe and then put a teeny little heel on it so that it looks all flat and stupid and out of proportion. And then people walk along wearing them, looking silly. Heels should be high! Four inches, at least. Three-and-a-half is the absolute minimum and even that's pushing it. What's the point in them otherwise?

Anyway I'm going to go watch a film or something, or maybe just get drunk. (Who was it who said, "The only straight thing about her is her vodka?" Oh yes that's right - PATSY KELLY!!!)

Kitty xxx

2002-12-27T21:53:00.000Z

Good!

Oh, that's better. I just really wanted to bitch about myself a little bit. I tried doing it earlier, to my mother, but she kept interrupting and saying, "No it isn't, no you don't, blah blah blah, and you don't sound like the man from the Carry On films who says 'oooohh Matron'". She was really no help at all. And I do sound like that man. I also look like him, slightly. And if I'm not careful I'm going to start acting like him.

I wish I looked like George Clooney.

Or that girl who used to be in the Salon Selectives adverts. She was pretty. And she probably didn't sound like the "Matron" man either.

I'm so whingey today. Yuck. Horrible. Must be annoying for everyone (especially if I am doing it in the Matron-man voice). That's their problem. I do tend to talk too much, I suppose; I don't so much indulge in conversation, as monologue. Oh well. It comes down to the same thing in the end.

My sister videoed me today. I secretly taped over me, by filming the dog. The dog was not doing anything at all when I taped it... just sort of sitting there and looking at something. I taped the dog for a while, just sitting there. Then I watched the rest of the tape. There is a very disturbing part where my father is sitting in a chair looking madly happy and sort of dancing along, and then it pans across the room to show what he is looking at, and he is watching Mary Poppins and dancing to the Mary Poppins music. I think he may have some sort of fetish but I am not sure.

My sister got videoed too. And then she saw herself and started smiling and watched it over and over. Bitch. I hate pretty people who can do that. Feh.

And I hate the way that at Christmas, everyone has to record everything on celluloid. I'm all for videoing, as long as it's not me. And as long as the people in the videos are doing things that are of interest. Most of this one is just my dad sitting in a chair, saying "What is on TV today?" (Mary Poppins? He wishes.) He is the only one who doesn't mind being filmed.

I'm in such a bad mood! Hee! I love it when that happens. I get to act even more drama-queen-y than usual. I'll do that later. I'm kind of tired now. Maybe I'll stomp around tomorrow, for a while.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-27T21:37:00.000Z

Bad!

I look terrible! My hair's all messy and icky and flat. And I'm so fat today. And if I have to see my teeth one more time I'm going to kill myself.

Yeah, just thought I'd share. I'm in that mood.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-24T05:48:00.000Z

Look what day it is!

That's right! Today is Ava Gardner's posthumous 80th birthday! Happy birthday, Ava!

Oh, it's also Christmas Eve. So happy Christmas everyone else!

Christmas, though. Feh. Who cares about Christmas when there's Ava Gardner?

I think I might get that picture for my room. You can never have too many pictures. Well, actually you can - I used to, and they were all of the Spice Girls, and I filled up all the walls of my bedroom and then ran out of space so I filled up the ceiling too, and my room felt like being inside a black box with very happy girls wearing weird outfits and giving peace signs and stuff. I was about twelve. Now, though, I put all my pictures in frames, and also only get pictures of old movie stars - so it's bound to be tasteful.

I feel so virtuous. I'm done with my shopping. I'm even done with the wrapping things up. Andddd I watched Swing Time today. Is it just me, or do other people watch old movies with people dancing and then spend the rest of the week surreptitiously tap-dancing in corners? Okay, maybe it's just me. I wish I could dance like Ginger Rogers. Maybe I will take tap lessons or something and click with the rest/best of them.

My plans for today are:

1. See if I can't wrap my hair up so that it goes all huge like Catherine Deneuve's in The Last Metro.
2. Tap-dance some more, secretly.
3. I guess probably I should do some piano practice because I've been neglecting my poor piano lately. Only two hours yesterday, and only about twenty minutes the day before! So, yeah.
4. Casablanca is on!
5. And White Christmas which isn't really that good, but it does have Rosemary Clooney in.
6. Sit around exuding smugness because I'm done with all my present stuff, and nobody else in my family is.
7. Steam open the card I got for my sister and look at the picture of Sophia Loren giving Jayne Mansfield's cleavage a dirty look. Laugh evilly.
8. Try to do my makeup like a silent movie star, with long flat eyebrows and a teeny little outlined mouth.
9. Tap-dance again.
10. Corner someone. Talk about Patsy Kelly until their ears bleed. Wish them a very Patsy Christmas.
11. Look at the perfectly wrapped, glistening pile of presents I have accumulated for people. Make other people look too. Talk about how wonderful I am.
12. Count my teeth using my tongue.
13. Think about going shopping.
14. Occasionally start singing the "I'm A Poached Egg" song at people.
15. Put on long gloves. Take them off, like Rita Hayworth in Gilda.
16. Put on false eyelashes. Blink at reflection a lot.
17. Take strange pictures on webcam. Send them to random people. Wonder if the random people will ever speak to me again.
18. Look up where you can buy tap shoes and tap lessons online.
19. Go back to the Teach Yourself Tango! website. Teach myself tango.
20. Have a shower. Tap-dance splashily in the shower while singing "I'm Singin' In The Shower". Irritate people.
21. Annoy my cat for a while.
22. Get in the way.
23. Throw a miniature hissy-fit at someone.
24. Keep reminding everyone that it's Ava Gardner's birthday. Make people watch films with Ava Gardner in just to celebrate.
25. Go to bed at 7pm.

Twenty-five things! And I'm sure I'll be able to come up with more. I'd better get started.

Happy Christmas Ava, everyone.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-23T05:33:00.000Z

Stuff about Frances McDormand. Skip it if you like.

You know, it's funny about Frances McDormand. I've noticed this. She quite often plays a lesbian, you know, like in The Butcher's Wife and that weird fake-Irish accent-y Talk Of Angels, but she never actually kisses a lady. She is the Queen of Unrequited Lesbian-ness. I heard that she actually does get to kiss a lady soon. In Laurel Canyon. I'll bet that's the reason she took the part: "Well, finally!" Heh heh. Poor Frances. I hope it's true, and she does get her girl. Because really, it's getting plain silly!

I also heard that she wears leather trousers in Laurel Canyon. I am less enthusiastic about this. When are people going to realise that leather trousers are never a good idea? One of my little pet peeves. Leather trousers. And, oh, black nail polish! I can't stand that. Reminds me of gangrene, you know?

What else would I rid the world of? I'd kind of like to revert everything back to the 1940s - clotheswise! And lady-figure-wise. This tall thin thing we have now just looks nasty. I am such a hypocrite, being one of the tall thin people myself, but in my defence I am trying to do something about it by growing curves. Curves! Yay.

I'm getting so good at spotting lesbians in films. I guess it's because lately I've been watching a ton of old movies, and in those there are lesbians, but because they weren't allowed to go right out and say, "This lady likes ladies!" they had to do it in other ways. And so I think I got tuned into it or something. I don't know what it is, but now if I'm watching a modern film I can just look at someone and say, "She's going to be walking on the wild side pretty soon" and it happens! Or maybe I just need to get out more. It's funny, though.

I reeeeaaaaally liked Frances McDormand in Fargo. What? I'm just saying. And in Blood Simple. And in a ton of other things, actually. I should become a Frances McDormand fan but I can't really be arsed. I will, therefore, remain somewhere between "admirer" and "slightly fond". "Slightly fond" isn't a noun. Never mind.

I got this quiz thing, in an email, and one of the questions was something about "Who would play you in a film? If they made a film of your life, despite how boring you are, Kitty." I ignored the rudeness of the question but it got me a-pondering. I think I'd like to be played by Capucine. I know she's dead, but if she wasn't. And if she wasn't so old because now she'd be about, um, 70, probably. 71, even! She maybe wasn't a very good actress, but she could just do that melodramatic, flinging her head around thing that she did in the other films, and that would be okay because I do that anyway. And then I could point and say, "See, I look like that, all aquiline and swept-back. And I have a French accent too. Aren't I gorgeous?" Maybe lookswise I should pick someone else, just to stay in the plane of verisimilitude, but that's the point of movies, I guess. They beautify things. Like me.

Although I'm beautiful now, of course, dahling. Just maybe not quite as beautiful as Capucine. Heh heh heh. When I get a picture of me where I don't look completely blank - because that's what happens to me in pictures, and not in that cool Greta-Garbo-thinking-about-nothing-in-closeups way - I'll post it here. Don't expect it to happen for a while, because I always look blank. And maybe not quite as beautiful as, well... anything, really. What the hay.

Ooh, according to the IMDb, Laurel Canyon is a drama/musical. A musical! I so want Frances to start dancing around, singing things like, "I'm wearing nasty trousers and my hair's gone curly/I'm as straight as my follicles, so lick me, girly". I think that probably won't happen. That's too bad. Sometimes I wish that it was me, making all the films. The world would be a very different place; possibly a very terrifying place where everyone burst into Technicolour song from time to time, and the Hollywood sign was covered in giant pictures of Patsy Kelly. Ohh. I wish it was like that now!

Kitty xxx

2002-12-20T19:16:00.000Z

You'll have to imagine my questioning tone.

Hmm. I keep getting comments telling me that I'm weird. Why? I'm not that weird, am I? I always thought that I thought that I was weird but that really I was probably not much weirder than the average.

If that makes sense. I suspect that it doesn't.

God, I love wrapping presents. I really do. I want to send random people presents, just for the fun of wrapping them. Do you think that's a bad thing?

I keep neglecting my blog! Really, I feel very bad about it, but I'm so busy that I keep not having a chance to write. And I still have so much to do. It's shopping, though, so that's alright. Isn't it wonderful when there's pressure on you to go shopping? Hehehe. I'm not doing it, though - I'm just sitting here, writing in this and playing with my necklace. I love my necklace too. It's silver and it can coil up in a really cool way. Thankyou, Tiffany's! Heh. Anyway.

I'm sounding almost convivial today - I think I should do something about that. Oh, what the hay... after all, tis the season, tisn't it?

And God bless us, every one!

Kitty xxx

2002-12-18T01:00:00.000Z

Something I was thinking about

You know, I once knew a girl who was just a flush of contradictory emotions. She wanted to die, just so long as she didn't stagnate doing it. She screamed in crowds, and once she drank gasoline and with a little help from her lighter blew a four foot flame at two in the morning in a suburban street, and spent the rest of the day coughing up blood. When she was bored she let her car drive itself, just to see what it wanted to do. Once it wanted to roll over five times. Afterwards she talked about the car affectionately; how sweet, that it wanted to roll right over. It shattered her wrist and turned her collarbone into porridge. Naughty little vehicular-scamp.

For the past two years she has been stacking shelves in a supermarket. She doesn't want to die any more. She wants to get married, though, to her boyfriend, and she wants to maybe put down a mortgage and get a house when she can afford it, and she says that maybe she'll have a baby some day.

I don't know. It scares me, when people change like that. I didn't much like her before, and I don't much like her now. But how can she be so different? One of my very best friends has changed. I last talked to her in September, before she went to University. Now she has come back, and now she has a boyfriend, and she talks about the things they do together in a too-much-information kind of a way. She never had boyfriends before. I never even thought she wanted them.

I hope I never change. Well, I guess I don't mind changing a bit - I mean, you have to, don't you? I used to think I changed a lot. I thought that every day I was different. Then I looked back and noticed that I wasn't, and was mildly disappointed for a while.

Damnit, I'm almost waxing lyrical. Next thing you know, I'll be writing free verse.

It just really sucks, y'know? (I think that I just negated all the waxing-lyrical stuff with that one little sentence.)

Kitty xxx

2002-12-17T01:25:00.000Z

Oops.

How positively evil of me. I have neglected this, terribly! Well, since Friday anyway, and even that wasn't a real post - it was more of a paste. It's Tuesday now. I truly am the wickedest girl in the world.

Oh, I have to tell you. You know my, uh, penchant for pet names? Before, the best one was "cranberry". I managed to beat that. I was talking to someone, the other night. A lady. A very ladylike lady. And somehow, I managed to call her "dumpling". Not that I mind. She looked a bit like one, actually.

Stupid dumpling lady. Go away.

Anyway, I don't have time to write more. How's about a Christmas song, though, before I go?

Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree,
For me.
Been an awful good girl,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa baby, a 54 convertible too,
Light blue.
I'll wait up for you dear,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

Think of all the fun I've missed,
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed,
Next year I could be just as good,
If you'll check off my Christmas list,

Santa baby, I wanna yacht,
And really that's not a lot,
Been an angel all year,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa honey, there's one thing I really do need,
The deed
To a platinum mine,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex,
And checks.
Sign your 'X' on the line,
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.

Come and trim my Christmas tree,
With some decorations bought at Tiffany's,
I really do believe in you,
Let's see if you believe in me,

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing,
A ring.
I don't mean on the phone,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry down the chimney tonight,
Hurry, tonight.

(Eartha) Kitty xxx

2002-12-13T23:46:00.000Z

Zsa Zsa May Never Walk Again

Actress Zsa Zsa Gabor has been told she may never walk again following her car crash last month. The 85-year-old star's husband, Prince Frederic Von Anhalt, has revealed doctors have said they may not be able to repair nerve damage to Gabor's right leg - suffered after her car, driven by her hairdresser, ploughed into a lamppost on Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles. Von Anhalt says, "It's a real possibility she'll never be able to walk again. I'm worried to death." Gabor, who was in a coma following the near-fatal accident, is still confined to her hospital bed, and was quoted as saying, "I don't have the courage to face life anymore," yesterday. (IMDb News)

2002-12-11T16:32:00.000Z

Guess what I went shopping for?

Little clip from my video collection...

Search: Patsy Kelly Results: [14]

Air Fright
All-American Toothache
Babes In The Goods
Backs To Nature
Beauty & The Bus
Bum Voyage
Girl From Missouri, The
I'll Be Suing You
In Old California
Maid In Hollywood
Pick A Star
Pigskin Parade
Rosemary's Baby
Soup & Fish

Oh yes that's right - NINE NEW PATSY KELLY FILMS!!!!! Don't you wish you were me? Don't lie. You do. Yeah. You wish it was you who sat on the floor wearing a quilt and a cat and watched a video of Patsy Kelly arsing around pretending to be a gorilla. Admit it. The truth will set you free!

Some of those films have very bad names. Some of the bits of the films themselves are quite bad. In one of them, Patsy yells about raisins and then says, "Do ya wanna make something of it?" And in another one she goes up to Thelma Todd and says, "Why, toots! I'm your palsy-walsy." Which is very nice of her. I reckon they're more than friends. Patsy peels off Thelma's dress at one point. I don't know about you, but generally speaking, people who are just my palsy-walsies don't do that to me.

*dancing around* I haaaaaave all the Patsy and Thelma cooooomedy thingies... oh yeah, oh yeah baby. Well not all of them, but a lot of them, and a lot is good! Unless it's a lot of disease or something, honey. Or Catherine Zeta-Jones. I really wish she didn't dress so well. I want to hate her, but she's about the only person in Hollywood who knows how to dress, these days. Aside from her clothes, she bugs me. Naked Catherine Zeta-Jones = Bad.

Late night shopping tomorrow! I really need a white scarf. I have to go ask my dad if he'll buy me one when he's out. Bye!

Kitty xxx

2002-12-10T23:04:00.000Z

Puzzling things

Earlier I was going to write a sonata. So I sat down at the piano but the only thing that came out was a tango. Oh, well. I wrote a tango! So yay! I'm not sure where it came from. I don't think I write songs or whatever - I think they just come out of the piano. I always forget them straight away anyway so it doesn't matter.

Ooh, my Weather Pixie has a Christmas tree! I have to put up mine. I have to. I need twinkly lights first, though. I only have colourful ones and I want white ones. Pah. Stupid colourful ones. Go away. You suck.

Anyway I don't have time to write anything more. I'm going to start beginning all my sentences with "Say", like those men in the old film noirs. Heh heh heh. Say, is that the time?

Kitty xxx

2002-12-09T17:30:00.000Z

Something very bad that I have to say

Okay, so I just watched Beyond The Clouds (I don't like it by the way) and I really wish that Fanny Ardant would not have her hair like that. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but when she has it like that... Well, there isn't a nice way of putting this. She looks exactly like John Leguizamo in To Wong Foo.

Damn, I'm horrible. I'm sorry, Fanny Ardant! I love you, but change the hair! Oh, she has. That's good.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-09T14:50:00.000Z

Pretentions

I think I might change the spelling of my name. I think it needs an accent. Kítty. Well, not that, but my real name, which is neither "Kitty" nor "Kítty", sad to say. It's not quite pretentious enough as it is - it needs to be more so. And then I can look at it on things and say, "You missed the accent, you FOOL!" and the person will go, "I'm so sorry!" and I'll say, "You had better be. Now add that little slanty line above the vowel and never forget it again!" Because I am mean. I so want an accent though! I really am going to start spelling it with one.

Mmph, I feel funny. There are many things I should be doing. I am not doing any of them, although I think that maybe writing in my blog is something that I should do and therefore I am being good and conscientious by doing this. I never thought I'd keep it up, you know. I thought I'd last about a week and then get bored and stop. It's different when people read it. When I had offline diaries I used to write a lot at first; then after that maybe one entry every six months saying "Sorry I haven't written! Gotta go! Byeeeeee!" Hee - I apologised to my diary! Oh well.

When I was two, my hair was shaped like a lemon. I just really wanted to tell you.

Why do I always have inappropriate thoughts at wrong moments? Someone will be telling me something and pouring out their heart to me and I am supposed to be sympathetic and a-shoulder-to-lean-on-y and then they'll put something in a certain way and before I know it, my face is all clenched up with trying not to laugh and... It happens all the time! I'm just Satan! Oh. I can't help it.

Now. Seeing as I have nothing else to say, I'm going to go. So have a good day everyone!

Kitty xxx

2002-12-08T18:16:00.000Z

What have I been doing today?

Fanny Ardant, speaking English on the TV: "Illursions are dingerous pepple. They have no flolls!"
Me, in tone only audible to bats: "Awwwwwwwwwwww!!!!! Ohmygod!!"

I normally only have reactions like this when my cat says her name and stuff. I think I've flipped. But I can't help it! What is it about French accents? When Catherine Deneuve speaks English, it melts me and I can't even concentrate on the words because of the way she says them. Damn her. When Fanny Ardant does, I wear out the rewind button on my remote control just because it's so adorable. And I'm sure I shouldn't find it so cute. It's probably not the most appropriate adjective I could apply to her, most of the time. But, awwww!!!

Okay, now that that's over with, how are you? I'm fine. Too hot (it's a side-effect), but fine. Fan. That's better. Hope everyone has had a fabulous weekend and done lots of wonderful life-affirming things, or at least had fun. Oh, and Christmas is a-coming and people, they are a-wassailing. I'm not sure what wassailing is. Is it, like, singing, in a wailing kind of tone? That's what it sounds like. Well, as long as the people are enjoying their wassailing, I'm sure it doesn't matter.

I've only bought one Christmas present so far. However I remain stress-free. Thankyou, piano. Heh heh. It eats up all my emotions and then all that's left is this chipper, laid-back one, which is good because it's a fun one. Oh, I'll get my shopping done, not to worry. I will in the end. I'm going to get a tie for my dad. I always get him ties. I was going to get him a Hermes one... but I can't be arsed. Also he never wears the ties I get him so there's no point in getting him a really good one. I think I'll get him a pink one. I'm getting a stripey rainbow cup for my friend Charisma because I know she'll love it because with her, everything has to be rainbows. And I have lots of other stuff that I'm going to get for people. I just have no idea what to get for Lili, because she never wants anything. How can someone not want anything? I have about nine million katrillion bazillion things on my Amazon wish list thing, and that's just videos! I am never going to switch to DVDs. Never. Not ever. Well maybe one day. Until then, what am I going to get her? Hmmmmm.

Late-night shopping this week! Okay, so this is York, and when they say "late-night" they really mean "until 6.30pm", but still. It's dark. Have you noticed how people always look better in the dark? Also you can wear more eye makeup without scaring people to death by looking like one of those goth people.

You know what I had for breakfast yesterday? Sorry, I have to tell you. It was a bowl of cream. "Kitty" is seeming like quite an apt name. I'm such a healthy eater, aren't I? It wasn't even whipped cream or anything - just double cream in a bowl, with a spoon. I'm going to have a heart attack by the time I'm twenty-four.

Anyway. I must go and practise - although I've done about six or seven hours already today. I'm going to be a virtuoso, darling.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-07T13:19:00.000Z

Sacre bleu!

I'm going shopping! Shoppyshoppyshoppinggggg.... in Paris! Yay! I need an evening gown. Well, a few evening gowns. And cocktail dresses. And shoes. And I think I'll get my hair done there too: "Quelle horreur! C'est trop jaune!" And thennn I'm going skiing in Grenoble. What do people wear to go skiing, anyway? Probably not evening gowns, although it might make it more interesting. And then I'm going to Nice for a while. Oh, my life is wonderful. Well, almost wonderful. You see, there's a bad thing - there always is. My sister Lili was supposed to be going. Now she says she doesn't want to. And if she doesn't go, it messes up the whole plan. I just don't get why she doesn't want to - is she crazy? Is she maaaad? There's nothing that's keeping her here at all, and it's only two weeks, and she loves Paris and she's dying to go skiing. She has no reason to not want to go, and the only reason she's still saying that she won't go is because she's stubborn as hell and sticks to her decisions just to stick with them - not because they're right. She's really pissing me off right now, can you tell?

Oh well. In March I'll be out of here and my sister's stubbornness won't get in my way any more. Hehe. I'm so selfish. But so is she, it has to be said. I'm going to Nice, yeah baby! Nice is right next to whosit, isn't it? Antibes? Is that its name? Something like that. People go on holiday there. People like Catherine Deneuve. And Fanny Ardant. I asked my mother if I'd see them. She said, "Sans doute". Yay!!! She could very well be wrong but whatever. I must work on my French chatup lines. Hahahahah. "Mon dieu... j'ai enfin trouvé ce que je cherche!" Oh, that will so work. Totally. Heh. Maybe I'll pass on the chatup lines then, but you know. I'll think of something.

I'm going to get a job. I am. I will. Very soon. I'll be a barmaid or something, you know. I won't be a waitress though. I tried that, two years ago when I was learning "responsibility with money" and I was the worst waitress ever. Carrying the soup was the worst. If it had just been soup in bowls, fine. But noooo... it was in these little flat bowls, and the bowls were on plates, and you had to hold the plates and walk down from the kitchen, through the top floor and down to the bottom floor with these plates with the full-to-the-brim flat bowls sliding around all over the place. I never actually dropped any soup on people, but I came close. Very very close. Heh. I don't think they came back. I dropped ice cubes on a lady though, once. One of the other waitresses once dropped a potato on someone. And then she just left it there and came back and said, "What do I do about the potato?" and I said, "Umm... pick it up?" so she went back and rooted around in the lady's skirt for the potato. And once my friend Alice dropped a bottle of wine all over a restaurant standards inspector. Ah, it was a fun place.

Well, I must go. It's time for me to go and shop.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-06T09:57:00.000Z

Okay, okay, I'm getting on with it

Last night a funny thing happened. It was after we came out of the cinema. I think I accidentally hit on a girl. I was talking about something and you see, when I talk I tend to gesticulate. Lots of arm-waving, pacing up and down and head-shaking. And somehow one of my gestures got aimed in her direction, not on purpose, I just happened to catch her eye as I did it, and I guess it could have been interpreted as a come-on... but then she started blushing and smiling and stuff. Either I fortuitously hit on the only other lesbian in my town, or I just converted her right there in the street. (Please be the second one!) Heh. I think she was too young for me, though. I'm very odd about that. Last person I had anything-in-particular with, and even that wasn't much, was K and she must have been in her fifties. Late forties, at least. Ah, well.

You know, if I don't look out I'm going to turn into a self-caricature. Maybe I already have. People do imitations of me, stomping around and shaking my head and making little indignant "ohh!" noises and then going, "C'est la vie, darrrlings!" Well, one person did. Last night. Do I really do that? Is it a bad thing? Maybe I should be different. Maybe I should go back to school or something, and get some qualifications, and get a proper job. And do good things with my time, except that I can't think of anything.

I think I might stop writing in this weblog. I'm getting kind of bored.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-05T22:13:00.000Z

One word:

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

(ie, I saw it - and the pretty ladies - again. Must get a life. Can't be bothered.)

Kitty xxx

2002-12-04T17:54:00.000Z

J'ai une nouveau amour... une autre nouveau amour. Encore. (Damn, my French sucks.)

I saw 8 Women today!!! I LOVE IT!!!!! Therefore I am seeing 8 Women again tomorrow!

Oh my Goddddddd. Fanny Ardanttttttt. As anyone who reads my blog on a semi-regular basis will possibly already have gathered, I have a slight (heh) crush on Catherine Deneuve. I still do. Catherine Deneuve! Yay! But Fanny Ardant, oh, my... Despite being the high-heeled tripping-around girly girl that I am, I like to be the one who sweeps a girl off of her feet. In my head, at least. Not Fanny Ardant, though. She can sweep me any day. So, yes. I'll just be waiting, over here...

Oh but she is fabulous. I overuse that word but I can't think of another one, well, really I can think of several more but all of that is completely irrelevant and I shouldn't be bringing it up.

I think I might go shopping. I'm in such a shopping mood. I want red shoes. I think I need red shoes, and a red outfit to go with them. Fanny Ardant was wearing red in 8 Women. She would. She wears red even when she's not wearing red, if you get my drift... well you might. You mightn't. It might not make sense, but that's all beside the point. She wears red better than I would. Damnit. Blondes can't do it so well. But when I'm forty I'm going brunette for ten years - then I can wear red all I want, and then she'd better look out.

I think I should not cancel real-life dates just to go see movies, but what the hay. I hate dates, and dating people, and all that stuff. It's too mundane. Real people get blotchy and sweaty and stuff. Well, no, it's not really that... I think it's just that before, I used to just date so randomly, and now I'm making up for it by being picky. I do pick people, sometimes. Not very often though.

By the way, everyone feel free to make up your own Fanny jokes. I didn't put any because I didn't want to contribute to the decaying morals of today's society, but that doesn't mean that you can't.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-03T06:42:00.000Z

The things I do

Last night I had a dream that I was getting married, but that I was wearing a scarlet wedding dress. I woke up annoyed with myself for having such heavy-handed symbolism in my dreams. Then I looked up and realised exactly why I had that dream. This is the picture on the wall opposite my bed:

I like that picture. In Notting Hill they said it had a violin-playing goat. They were wrong. That goat is playing a cello. And anyway, I prefer the fish that is playing the xylophone. Stupid Notting Hill. Stupid Hugh Grant.

Want to see what other posters I have in my room? (Oh, bear with me, I've got nothing else to do at the moment. I'll do something good later.) Hehehehe.

I have more pictures than that but I have suddenly become bored, on a whim. Also, you probably are not interested in hearing about it. Other People's Decor. Heh. Actually, I quite like looking at other people's decor... I think it tells you a lot about them. I am less interested in looking at Other People's Holiday Snapshots - but I don't even mind that. In my room I don't have a single picture of a male. I guess that says something about me... but I think we already knew that.

If anyone is interested in getting me a Christmas Present, I would quite like the picture of Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe with the canes. Or a lion. I'd really like to have a lion. It could be just a small one at first, then it would grow and be big, and I could walk around with it and if someone pissed me off, I'd just lean down and say, "Kill, lion, dear," and it would go eat them. He would go eat them. Yeah, I want a boy lion. They have those cool manes. I'd name him... umm... I don't know. You know who had a lion? Tallulah Bankhead. I am so jealous! Look, she did:

Damn you Tallulahhhhhh. You had Patsy, and a lion. Damn youuuuuuu. She named her lion Winston Churchill. If I had one, maybe I'd name him Tallulah. Tallulah-the-lion. Faster, Tallulah! Kill! Kill! Maybe I'd name him "Kitty", after me. Kitty is a good name for a lion. Or... Gerald. Or Lionel. Or Rory. Those have so been done. How about "Jean Harlow McLion"? That's a good name too. Lion McLion. Lion McHamster. Or Patsy! "This is my lion. His name is Patsy. He is now going to eat you." Or... Mr. Assassin.

So, thankyou for reading this. Please write this down: "Kitty would like one (1) small lion, by 25th December 2002." And send me one. I will be expecting it. Thankyou in advance,

Kitty xxx

2002-12-02T08:33:00.000Z

Blah blah bliddy blah blah

I'm updating again, heh heh. Hope nobody minds. It's about my physical condition. Apparently the blacking out thing is actually something I might want to worry about so I am being forced to go to the doctor. I thought it was just something that happened to everyone but only I whinged about! If I'd known, I wouldn't have complained about it. Damnit. I've been like it forever, though - well, since I was about thirteen. Or maybe twelve. Maybe I don't eat enough or something. I'm funny about that - I hardly ever get hungry, and I have never been one of those people who has a burning passion for any kind of food. I don't have a weak spot. Sometimes I pretend to, but I don't really. A few years back I never used to eat at all, and ended up fainting everywhere, like a silent movie heroine. I am very good at dieting. Aside from not having any culinary enthusiasm in the first place, I have iron willpower. It's kind of cool - it means that I stay supermodel skinny. Although lately I'm trying to put on weight. I'm still hovering around in a size eight. That's a size four, for any American peoples, or people who use American sizes anyway, and when you're 5'10" it just looks horrible. So I'm trying to grow curves. I think it's working, a bit! Anyway, probably the doctor will tell me what's up with me and whether I need to start doing anything differently to prevent (or at least put off) death.

Having said that, my doctor's a bit crap really. Last time I went to him I was fourteen. I had a headache. He referred me to a psychiatrist and diagnosed me with manic depression (!! Can you think of a less likely person?) and tried to get me on Prozac. I screamed "No! No! Never!" and continued with my merry (drug-free) ways. (That's all true aside from the screaming bit. Really I just looked at him funny and said, "What about my headache...?" and then a few weeks later a psychiatrist man came to our house, he was wearing leather sandals and he had an afro and he kept going "Heyyyy..." - and no, I'm not making this up for effect, it happened. Why do people bother with doctors? They're crazy.)

I'm kind of bored, can you tell? That's why I'm writing in here again. Since I last wrote I have... umm... arsed around a bit, talked to my dad - oh, I read The Color Purple. Ah. I'm such a speedreader. I talked to my mum, too. We had a wonderful conversation that looked something like this.

Me: [lying on bed, picking up little metal thing from bedside table] How long are you going to be?
My mother: [in ensuite bathroom, in shower] What??
Me: [twiddling with little metal thing] Mum, what's this?
My mother: What?
Me: [expressionlessly] What's this, Mum? Mum, what's this this this?
My mother: I can't hear you. The fan's on.
Me: [bending little metal thing backwards and forwards] It's bendy.
My mother: [emerging from bathroom] What did you say?
Me: [holds up metal thing wordlessly, with questioning look on face]
My mother: I don't know.

We may not put the "fun" in "dysfunctional", but I betcha anything that my family had something to do with the inclusion of the "ctio".

That's not supposed to make sense. Don't read it again.

I'm so happyyyyy. I'm wearing matching underwear. Actually I'm wearing only matching underwear - I was getting changed, then I got bored halfway through and went to check my emails, and then I started looking at other internetty stuff... listen, it happens. Matching underwear, though - I don't exactly get how it makes me so happy, but it does. That's for sure.

Oh my God! I just remembered what it was I was going to write about! This is from about three days ago and I couldn't think of it then, but I can now. It was something someone said to me. I was talking to him and he said, "Let me guess... you want to be an actress." I gave him a 'the who and the what now?' look and said, "What makes you think that?" He said, "Don't take it the wrong way. I just meant that you seem like the... actress type." Am I really the "actress type"? Is that a good thing? I'd never want to be an actress, aside from a few years ago I did, but then I changed my mind. I think everyone wants to be an actress at least once, for a little tiny bit... don't they? I don't, though. Not now. I figure that just being me involves enough acting and gesticulation than having to remember to pretend to be someone else on top of that, and I'd much rather be me than the other person. Everyone acts, don't they? So maybe I am an actress already. That's it in a nutshell, isn't it? I just don't write it on my business cards.

I totally make sense. In a nonsensical kind of a way.

I have to go curl my hair before it dries... actually maybe I won't, maybe it's a chignon kind of day. Let's see. Oo, it's pretty today. Yeah, I can't be bothered with my hair. I'll do it later. Then shopping!!!! For ribbons!!!

Kitty xxx

2002-12-02T03:59:00.000Z

Watch me feign philosophical enlightenment

I feel kind of funny today. Something's up. I just don't know what. I'm pretty sure someone's died. I'm not clairvoyant or anything - although it would be so cool if I was, wouldn't it? I could talk to Patsy Kelly. Haha. Anyway. No. But someone has died - I know because I was sleeping (I'm up at funny times at the moment) and the phone woke me up and I listened to my dad's part of the conversation. When my mother talks on the phone, she adopts a hushed, sombre tone which we refer to as "the tragedy voice". Tonight when my dad was on the phone, he used his own tragedy voice. I'm not sure exactly what he was saying (I'm so nosy. Such an eavesdropper, but how else are you supposed to find things out?) but there was something about "Newport" which is where my grandmother and many other aging relatives reside, and "funeral". It wasn't anyone close enough for people to come wake me up and tell me, but it must be someone quite close because he was on the phone for a long time.

Something happened, yesterday, and I can't remember it. I'm telling ya, weird stuff is going on. I keep forgetting things. I think I'm going crazy. I know that I wasn't doing anything in particular, and I was just sitting down, and suddenly I had a thought that made me sit there in stunned silence for a while. And I don't know what it was. It might have been the meaning of life. Or it might have been about Patsy Kelly tapdancing. Or perhaps somewhere between the two... I don't know! And I forget other things, too. Damn blackouts. I'm most likely dying. I say that a lot - I am a complete hypochondriac/drama queen - but maybe I am. I black out about ten times every day. That can't be good for me. And now I'm having epiphanies and not being able to remember them. I'm dying! I don't want to die young! I want to get a lot of stuff done first, and I want to be an old bitch! And I want to see if Los Angeles really exists or if it's just been invented by a bunch of people with serious problems!

I'm writing about dying a lot today. Huh. Look at that. I really am a teenager.

I just... I wish I could remember it. Not because it was particularly wonderful. I mean, it might have been - I don't know. It just worries me when I can't get to something that's in my head! I think I might go shopping later. That's the problem - I need more videos! Yeah. They help. Sometimes I think that maybe I like buying videos more than the videos themselves. That's very silly of me.

If I keep trying to think of it, I'm going to get a monumental headache. I should probably stop.

I once read a book about a lady who was dying. She found out she had a year to live, so she devoted her life to taking care of the poor and feeding jelly to children and stuff. It was a terrible book. If I only had one year to live, I wouldn't do that. I'd whoosh about to different places, and gatecrash, and become an alcoholic, and take up smoking, and scream, and find everything even more humorous than before. At least I'd like to think that's what I'd do. What if I just stayed indoors and became morose and sullen and said, "How is that funny?" Yeck. I have a terrible suspicion that I am an idealist. Oh, Jesus, no. I'm going to become earnest. I... ugh. I can't be arsed to write any more. I'm bored now.

Kitty xxx

2002-12-01T03:11:00.000Z

I live in the Jewel of Yorkshire, don't you wish you were me?

Ugh. I wish I was doing something, right now. It's one of those times when I just wish that I didn't live in the middle of nowhere like this. You know, the other night I got bored and went for a walk at about 3am. I didn't see a single other person or car or anything (which is probably a good thing), and when I got out on my porch I could hear owls. There's this bridge at the end of my road and I stood on that for a while. You can see everything from there. Including owls. I don't have anything against owls, but I do sometimes wish that I lived in a big city and never saw any owls at all. Stupid owls.

The place where I live... well, it's good if you're very old, or very young. It's perfect then. But if you're like most people and fall somewhere in the middle, it's plain dull. The nearest town is York, but right now it's coming up to Christmas so it's completely clogged up with tourists. I hate tourists! There are a few different types. There are the ones with the cameras who diligently photograph every lamp-post, and wear sensible shoes, and take all the tours. There are the ones who try to fit in and pretend not to be tourists, and have an air of such studied nonchalance that they attract funny looks right away. And then there's the worst type of all - the family holiday. Which usually looks something like this: There's a fat man, with a baseball cap. There's an even fatter woman with a lurid pink top. There are two fat children, with balloons tied around their chubby wrists and strawberry icecream caked around their mouths. They all walk along in a line so that nobody else can get past, and they chatter blaringly loudly about how cute everything is, and they go to gift shops and buy York Minster shaped pencil sharpeners and novelty Union Jack biros.

I seriously do hate tourists. I'm allowed to be in a bad mood, I'm going stir crazy! But there's nothing I can do about that. Maybe I can do something about the tourists, though... do you think if I stood on one of the zillions of bridges in the centre of York, holding a box full of Minster pencil sharpeners and flinging them into the river calling out, "Look! They're quaint!", the tourists would prick up their ears and go, "Did you say quaint?!" and dive into the river after them?

I've done a few of the touristy things myself, actually. I've been all the way up to the top of the Minster. I walk along the City Walls quite regularly - it's often the fastest way of getting somewhere, which tells you all you need to know about York. And I've almost done one of the Ghost Walks. Due to the fact that York is allegedly one of the most haunted places in the world, many people have decided to cash in on this and run their own Ghost Walks. The Ghost Walks consist of a lot of people being led around the back streets by a bloke in a top hat as he sonorously intones things like, "The window in that house is not made of glass, it is made of pigs' feet", and then people wearing sheets pop out of doorways in a scary manner. People pay to go on these things. What the hay - whatever tickles your pickle. I didn't pay when I went on one - me and a friend were walking in town one night and we accidentally went along one of the Ghost Walk routes, and the Ghosts kept jumping out going, "Whhhhooooooooohhhhhhh!!! - Oh, sorry, thought you were the tour." I think it counts.

Read all about the glorious city of York. Hah. On that site there's a sidebar, and "Tourism" is ahead of "Edjamacashun". Oh, well, never mind. Oh my God! I was looking through that site and on this page it describes the Minster as a "Gothic cathederal". I guess that just proved my point. Hehe. The cathederal is indeed lovely, though - see? I'm going to shut up now. I am sounding suspiciously like a tour guide. "If you turn to your left, you will see some of the natives of York. Although they appear to be normal, do not be fooled. They are quaint. Their homes are small shacks, and they eat battered yams from wooden bowls after toiling all day dressed as monks. They also say things like 'thank ye kindly'."

Having said that, I actually did something like that the other day. My sister and me were watching a film, and she was bringing juice (movies make us thirsty), and seeing as how this is my sister, she brought bowls instead of glasses, "because they're bigger and we won't have to do refills so much". And for some reason I held up the bowl in both hands and implored, "Appo juice, I beg of ye!" and now we keep talking like that.

I am such a peasant.

I used to know this man, he ran a restaurant and he loved Bette Davis, and any time that anyone mentioned a country that wasn't in the UK, he'd shake his head and go, "Bloody third-world countries." That's including places like France and America. I just thought I'd share that. Also, if anyone ever said, "um", he'd bitch, "N-O-P". He used to be my boss. I was nervous. I said "um" a lot.

Living here is kind of cool, actually. My city has Viking names. It used to be called Eboracum. And before, or maybe after, that, it was called Jorvik. We have tales about a river of blood and horrible wars with more Vikings. And everyone who lives here is immortalised in about six thousand different photo albums, captured in the background of a family picture, while walking along saying something like, "I think we need to buy more ketchup". I'm still going to move away though.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-30T04:22:00.000Z

Don't ask, don't tell

I am having warm fuzzy feelings towards this blog. I feel like I have grown into it and wear it a lot. That makes no sense, but what the hay. Now I'm not going to write much at the moment. Maybe later.

Read this - Zsa Zsa Gabor's condition is improving!!! Yeah, I don't link to news stories about the impending war, but I do link to ones about Zsa Zsa Gabor. I much prefer Zsa Zsa Gabor to wars, and I find her more interesting too.

Goodnight, everyone.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-29T05:54:00.000Z

Yes, yes yes! And no, no no!

Let's start with the yes-yes: 1, 8 Women opens in the art-house cinema here, later today. And 2, my father has been successfully coerced and I will soon be receiving beaucoups of new things, seeing as how I am a brat. And 3, I did the death clock thing and due to my unsquishable optimism I will be living until 2083, which is okay by me.

But, there is a no-no. Really! It's something terrible. Ms. Zsa Zsa Gabor is in the hospital. Read all about it at Reuters, if that link works. I love Mrs Gabor! She is so cool. Hardly any people can get away with saying things like "Macho does not prove mucho", but she can. So, here's me hoping that she be's okay.

I don't know why I blog so much, I think nobody really reads my blog. That's okay though. I have maybe three people who read it (and I love you all). Three readers is good enough for me! Plenty good! I updated three times yesterday - once for each reader, maybe. And I may do again today, depends on how much I write now. It's 5.30am so technically this is still yesterday - except that the first one of yesterday was really the day before yesterday because it was at 1am or thereabouts. That makes sense, doesn't it?

Ooh. I must return to the topic of Eastenders, and small Satanic Steven Beale. I found out today that Ian actually isn't Steven's father. It's someone else. I think they mentioned his name. I think his name was... oh, let's see now, yes, that's right - the DEVIL. (Although my hearing has been going a bit, lately.) So Ian is letting evil-Stevil go to see his father, Mr. Evil Incarnate. He has bought him a plane ticket to New Zealand, because they don't sell tickets to Hell. Hell is at the bottom, right? And so is New Zealand, I think. So it must just be the closest place, and then he can get a transfer from there. But beware, Ian Beale. When your "son" comes back, you'll have to start serving fire and brimstone fritters at that there chippy.

I really must stop writing about Steven Beale so much, you people are going to think I have a fixation. Which I don't, of course! Hahahahahahah. Why would anyone think that. You are indeed silly peoples.

Tonight I watched two films, I was bored. First off I watched that one where Lauren Bacall's a lesbian. Young Man With A Horn. You can say what you like about Lauren Bacall - but if it's nasty, I'm going to come punch you. Pow! ...right in the kisser. I love saying that out loud. It sounds so funny. Then I watched Pick A Star. Patsy Kelly doesn't dance in it. I have taken to screaming "Dance, Patsy! DANCE!" at the TV, whenever she's onscreen. Sometimes I scream it anyway, even if it's not one of her movies, but something completely different like a football match. My parents are growing twitchy, and keep watching me when they think I'm not looking. But I am looking. I see everything. I see all that goes on. That's right. Fear me.

Look at this! It's a film called "Habit Patterns", and it's about a girl named Barbara who gets a stain on her sweater and doesn't bother to clean it off, and is altogether sloppy, and it ruins her life. Not the stain. The sloppiness. Because she never does things and so how is she going to get anywhere like that? It's a delightful film.

I really need to go shopping. Clothes shopping, I mean. After Christmas I'm going to a whole bunch of places - Paris for a week, then Nice for a week (to help me find good places to live, although I'm not going to move there until March - I am absolutely decided now), and I might go to Zurich for skiing. And I'll be in all those places and I'll just have to wear the same outfit over and over because I have but one. I have a thing about buying shoes. I love shoes!! I'm wearing a strange pair at the moment - they're rainbow ones. I have never worn them outside of the house. I saw them in Elle once, and started flipping out over them, and so I called up the people and ordered them. And then I just wore them inside. That makes sense, doesn't it? I've had them a few months now - really must get round to doing something about wearing them so that other people can see them. They're pretty, though. They have five inch heels. Heels are wonderful... sigh. How do they do that, where they make your posture better and they hold in your stomach and make your legs look great, just by being tall shoes?

I wish that BBC 2 would stop showing The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air. I wish even more that I'd quit watching the damn programme. I hate it, but now I can sing the theme tune. Not that I exercise this talent too often, mind you. And the first Aunt Vivian was waaaaayyyy better than the second one. Pssh. Go away, second Aunt Vivian. You smell. ...I quite like Hilary, though. God! I have to stop talking about The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air! What's wrong with me today?

Now, though, I must be off. I'm going to take off my rainbow shoes and go to bed. And I might take off my other clothes. And I might not take off the rainbow shoes, just to be weird. No, I have to - they might scag my Laura Ashley sheets. Heheheh. Laura Ashley. I'm shaking my head fondly right now, for no apparent reason. Oh my God! I have this problem! Not with TiVo - with Amazon.com! They always think I want to buy gay man videos! And once they kept trying to sell me Playboy stuff! Uh, which I didn't buy, naturally. Heh, on that site, I feel kind of sorry for that first man who battled with his TiVo (as it were) - "It stopped thinking I was gay and decided I was a crazy guy reminiscing about the Third Reich." Damn computer systems. They're always judging you. Anyway. I really am going to go now. Nighty night everyone.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-28T23:07:00.000Z

ANOTHER post, but this one's small

Estelle Winwood died on the exact same day that I was born.

Estelle Winwood was Tallulah Bankhead's best friend.

Tallulah Bankhead was Patsy Kelly's best friend.

Estelle Winwood died in the same place as Patsy Kelly.

And you know, weird stuff happened around both Patsy Kelly and Estelle Winwood - deathwise! Everyone who worked with Patsy suddenly dropped dead. And George Cukor died only hours after sending a telegram to Estelle, saying "Happy Birthday Dahling" or something. That was for her 100th birthday.

I think I might take up believing in astrology. Good things might happen. I lost my point somewhere up there but I know I was going somewhere with it. I was. Oh, well.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-28T17:53:00.000Z

Being a grown-up

When I was very little and completely non-grown-up, I always wanted to know exactly what it was that grown-ups thought about, and how they acted when I wasn't there. I wanted to be a grown-up so that I could always have Coco Pops for breakfast, every day, without anyone trying to make me eat wholemeal toast and Marmite. One day I watched a movie, I don't remember what movie it was, but it was about grown-ups and things they were doing, as many movies are. I was so disappointed. Grown-ups always acted like they were so removed and distant, but really they weren't much different from me. Except that they were allowed Coco Pops.

Now, though, I am eighteen, and I am actually a grown-up. I am very old. And I'm allowed Coco Pops, but now I don't want them any more. (Actually, I kind of do... I think I might buy some.) I don't know if I want to be a grown-up. I think it was better when I was five. Now I have to think about things, like What Do You Want To Do With Your Life? When I was five, I knew. When I was five, I was going to be an Olympic gymnast, and then after that I was going to move to Greece and be a painter. Or maybe I was going to own my own garage and drive a different car every day. And maybe I'd have a dog. I really wanted a dog. Now I have a dog, and my dog sucks. (Although in fairness - that's the dog's fault. We used to have another dog and that one was cool. This dog, though...) What Do I Want To Do With My Life? Okay. Here's what I want to do.

Age 20: Be beautiful and glittering and witty. Lie on grand pianos with a martini glass, telling dirty stories and making people laugh. Be quotable.

Age 30: Be the centre of attention. Be bossy. Be dramatic. Recline on chaise longues with a martini glass, telling dirty stories and making people laugh. Be quotable.

Age 40: Shake head a lot. Have wavy hair. Act like Barbara Stanwyck. Somehow acquire a low, husky voice (perhaps take up smoking?). Wear only Chanel. Tell dirty stories from an upright position, still being the centre of attention. Make people shocked. Be quotable.

Age 50: Be gorgeous and refined. Have set hair. Wear Chanel and pearls, and brown sunglasses. Wear scarves (but not in sports cars - remember Isadora Duncan!). Tell witty stories. Always have a (husky-voiced) comeback. Make people listen. Be quotable.

Age 60: Scream and cry for a while, then stop. Get married a few times and keep the money. Call people "darling" a lot more. Still wear pearls. Still be beautiful, but in an older kind of way. Act like Bette Davis. Still tell witty stories. Start getting bitchier. Be quotable.

Age 70: Act knowledgeable, snotty, and condescending. Get even bitchier. Start wearing diamonds. Acquire lots of maids and cleaners (for in my mansion) and be horrible to all of them, but in a quotable way.

Age 80: Make people recount my witty stories to me, and then say "I remembered. I just wanted to hear it again. That one's a classic." Wear lots of diamonds, all the time. Have wrinkles and white hair. Be bony. Act like Judith Anderson. Give up smoking. Be even more quotable than before. Have people think of me as "that bitch".

Age 90: Die. Have a HUGE memorial erected (we're talking really big. Freudian big). Make sure that there are lots of lilies at the funeral, not as guests, just as decoration, and have the best quote etched into the memorial. The funeral has to be filled with sobbing people. Be buried, not cremated, and be buried with all the diamonds and pearls so that nobody else can have them. Probably end up going to hell because of the sins/meanness to the maids. Look for Patsy Kelly in hell. If she is not there, bribe someone into getting me into heaven. If she is not there either, get confused. Spend eternity in bitchy, witty confusion. Lie on a... something, telling dirty stories and making the people in hell laugh. Still be quotable.

There we are. I'm quite looking forward to being a grown-up, now. I'm getting ready for being twenty... I think I'll be good at that. After I've been in Nice for a year, I think I might go to New York. I'll be nineteen then - that's a good age for being an usher on Broadway, isn't it? Look at my life, all ahead of me. I hope I don't forget and somehow end up wearing a headscarf and buying potatoes on a Wednesday and going to bingo. I don't think that's going to happen. I am too impatient for that. I can't wait to be a grown-up now! It's going to be so much fun. Except for having to be witty. Right now I am never witty, but that's okay because I am not twenty yet. When I am twenty I will be witty. Until then I will just be... not.

I am a mere infant.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-28T01:57:00.000Z

Another post about my piano! Feel free to skip this one out.

Mmmmm. Niiiiiiiice. Tonight I was messing around on the piano and first of all playing this thing by Lizst, some Consolation or other... except I forgot it and kind of made bits up, but it still sounded all dramatic in that Lizst-y kind of way. Normally I hate Lizst. It's so... poncey. I can't play it without getting a picture in my head of some concert pianist man, playing it with that look - you know the one I'm talking about, right? They have their eyebrows up in a funny way, and their eyes closed, and they look like they're trying to smell something, and most of all they look smug. But in my weaker moments I turn to Lizst anyway, just to get all desperately schmaltzy all over the place. However, I refrain from making the Lizst Face. Anyway. Then I started out with yet another Chopin nocturne, op. 32, no. 2. But I couldn't remember that one either. And my Chopin book was all the way across the room so I just started inventing stuff, and it was crazy because I wasn't even particularly thinking about it and somehow this piece was coming out. I miss that. I haven't done that in years! The thing is, I always forget things I make up because I never have the patience to sit down and write it all out. I don't want to forget this one, though. I love it. So this bit is really just to remind me.

Lately, I am so uninteresting. I hate that. I don't mind what else I am, but I can't stand to be boring. I am becoming just so blah. Yuck! I have a total "Me me me!" complex - if I walk down the street and people don't particularly look at me, it bothers me. Which is crazy - but I never said I was completely with it. It's actually one of the first things one of my friends said to me. He came up and said, "You like to have people watching you, don't you?" and I said, "Honey, I don't know what you're talking about." I honestly didn't. I'm picking up on it more though, lately. I think I'm going to try and quit - it must be hellishly annoying for people around me. I have to be less theatrical. And I have to be less camp. And I have to stop telling those long stories while gesticulating and acting out parts of them. And I have to stop calling people "darling".

Oh, fuck it. Remembering not to is too much effort. I think I'll just stay the way I am. It's fun!

~~In my dreams: Happy Christmas, Kitty! I'll ask my dad tomorrow. Because I need it!!!! Them. I need them.~~ Oh, Christmas is great.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-27T15:20:00.000Z

£"(*$&£($£"&*$£"(*$£&"($£"*&(!"*&($£*&(*&%(£"*&%£!!!!!!

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! I got bored and emailed RuPaul and look! HE WROTE BACK!!!

kitty,

thanks, ladykins.
you're cool as hell.

ru

I LOVE RUPAUL!!!!

Anyway I can't write for long right now. I have a driving lesson at 3.30 and it's about ten past now, and it usually takes me a while to write entries (being the glittering social person that I am - hee - I am usually checking emails, talking on instant messenger and doing tests to find out which Spice Girl my cat's babies will be most likely to want to eat) so, yeah.

Is it just me, or is it hot in here? I have the fan on full blast, pointing right at me. I am already made up and my hair is done, and I don't want my makeup to just melt off my face. I wear too much makeup. But I wear it in a good way, and really, I need to. Because right now my hair is kind of very light blonde and if I don't wear black eye makeup, then it looks cheap and horrible. But with black eye stuff it looks more deliberate. If you know what I mean.

Today, I will be discovering if I can drive in peep toes. The heels are only about three inches, though, so it shouldn't be too bad. Okay, fine, four inches, whatever. I love learning to drive. I am TERRIBLE at it. Worst driver ever. I'm going to ask my driving instructor to teach me how to do that handbrake parking thing. He probably will, too... he taught me how to take off real fast so that the tyres screech and leave black marks on the road, and he was going to teach me how to do J-turns but people came into the car park, so he couldn't.

There is a possibility that my driving instructor is trying to kill me.

Oh, my, it's hot. Hot like Body Heat. Thank God for my fan. Well, actually not God, he didn't make it, it was the Homebase people.

I'm allowed to wear a skirt on my driving lesson... even if it is kind of odd. It's not a miniskirt or anything - those should not be worn by anyone, really. There are a few people who can get away with them, but most women's legs, above the knee anyway, are not worth looking at. Edith Head said that. It's true.

OMG! RUPAUL WROTE TO ME!!!!!

Kitty xxx

2002-11-26T20:41:00.000Z

Look what my name has done to me!

Not Kitty, my real name.

Your first name has given you energy, drive, and ambition, but also an almost excessively strong-willed and independent nature. While you are creative, inventive, and ingenious in practical matters, and always ready to initiate and promote new undertakings, you often experience difficulty in bringing your undertakings to a successful conclusion because of your own changing interests or changing circumstances. You become intensely involved with everything you plan to do, but the stress arising from frustrating obstacles or misunderstandings with others could prompt you to be intolerant and sarcastic in your expression, with breakdowns in congenial relations with family and friends a possible end result. Any emotional outbursts or moods would register as tension in your solar plexus, resulting in nervous indigestion and related problems. Tension could also centre in the head affecting the eyes, ears, sinuses, or teeth. True relaxation and peace of mind are elusive under this name.

Heh. That's so cool. I am sarcastic and intolerant! I knew that already. I love that thing. What's your name? They have a dire warning on their site about changing your name. If you change it, your whole life will change and you'll get all messed up. So beware.

Having read the description for "Kitty", I am kind of glad that it isn't really my name. Heh. Never mind. It's still okay to be called it on my weblog.

Kitty xxx (see?)

2002-11-26T16:24:00.000Z

"Navel-gazing" doesn't describe the half of it

Last night I watched Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?. Sometimes I have an urge to be like Elizabeth Taylor in it, or Bette Davis in Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte, or Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest - well, any of those, and smear black kohl pencil under my eyes and scream stuff. It would be so much fun. However, I can't do that. Lately I've noticed that all the time, I'm writing a movie script in my head. When I'm talking to someone, there's a little part of me that's noting exactly what's being said and writing it down. Isn't that funny? How very peculiar.

Maybe I will start blogging in the third person. Make this into a novel-type-thing. I'll try that now.

Kitty sat on the sofa. Kitty's sister Lili came into the room and shouted "PIG!!! DOG!!!" and then left. Kitty wondered what it would be like to kiss Sandy Dennis. In the next room, Lili shouted, "PIIIIG!" Kitty wondered what it would be like to kiss the bloke from Aerosmith with the funny mouth. Kitty got grossed out. Lili came into the room and said, "Do you want some chips?" Kitty said, "No. Yes. I don't know. No." Lili said, "I will make you some chips." Kitty said, "Okay." Kitty wondered what it would be like to kiss Kitty.

Later, Kitty kissed the mirror but it just felt like kissing glass, probably because that's what it was. Then Kitty noticed that if she moved the doors of the mirrory-cabinet thing around, there were a billion Kittys and they were all kissing each other and somehow it didn't even look like they were all the same Kitty, it looked like two different girls kissing. Kitty watched that for a while, then noticed how absolutely weird that was and decided to stop.

Kitty will not be writing in the third person any more, because strange things come out.

I really think I shouldn't write down my thoughts.

Although that was a thought, wasn't it? And I wrote that down.

And I guess that was a thought too. What else can you write down apart from your thoughts? Just things you say? But you have to think them first, don't you, unless you are some people. Well, then you have to just write down what other people do and say. But you have to think of that too. Blah.

I really am quite odd. And I've completely forgotten what I was going to write about. Oh but look! I took this test and it was surprisingly good.

1. You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and
free.

2. In the process of courtship, the approach that would make you
feel irresistable is straight-forward, just tell you he/she
loves you.

3. The impression you would like to give to your lover is stylish.

4. You don't like it when your partner is insecure.

5. The kind of relationship you would like to build with your
partner is one that you care not only about the present but
also the future with your partner, a long-lasting relationship
that you can grow with.

6. You care about the society and morality, you won't do anything
wrong after marriage.

7. You think of marriage as a precious thing. Once you get married,
you'll treasure it and your partner very much.

8. At this moment, you don't have the thirst for love, you can't do
anything for it, you won't fall for it easily.

How did it do that? All I did was answer the questions about What Animal Is The Best or whatever. What does me choosing to get rid of sharks have to do with my views on the sanctity of marriage? Still I guess it's okay with me.

Here is a picture of Linda Evangelista kissing herself.

And here is a picture of Catherine Deneuve... hehehe.

Well, seeing as I have nothing of value to contribute to my weblog today, I will stop writing. So bye!

Kitty xxx

2002-11-25T19:44:00.000Z

What's my personality disorder?

Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla

Psha. That's a bit of a "DUH!", isn't it? I'm off to go look in the mirror. Well, I'm back. And happy. And I'm about to spoil the plot of EastEnders for anyone who didn't see tonight's episode.

You see, I watched EastEnders tonight. This, I feel, is an achievement in itself - albeit one that I probably shouldn't be boasting about. But what the hay. I like the way that someone called the posh doctor "The Good Doctor Truman". As opposed to "The Evil Doctor Truman", presumably. They've wrapped up the storyline about Who Has Been Sending The Anonymous Poison Pen Letters And Terrifying Everyone On The Square? nicely, haven't they? Before, everyone thought it was Janine, the bleach-blonde bitch who used to send poison pen letters. But it wasn't. Of course. It's never the person that everyone thinks it is. Which is funny because in real life, it's quite often the person that everyone thinks it is. So do you want to know just who was sending the evil missives in Albert Square?

Well, it was Steven Beale. In case you don't watch EastEnders (and let's face it - if you're wise, you don't), Steven is Ian's son. He is about nine years old. Is this the stupidest storyline ever? Actually, Steven does have a past. He was still into mail, only then it was blackmail. Seriously, he did that. I am just waiting for the storyline where it turns out that Steven is not actually Ian's son, but rather a spawn of the devil ("He has his father's eyes." "What do you mean? Ian's eyes are NORMAL!"). Actually Steven is too small to be a Son Of Satan (although "Satan" and "Steven" are quite similar names, now that I come to think of it) - he is most likely just a minion.

Sigh. Maybe it's too late for them to turn Steven Beale-zebub into the devil's son - but I think they're going to go there. After all, Laura's pregnant, isn't she? And we know it's not Ian's. So it totally makes sense for it to be Lucifer's. He has spotted the miniature evil of Steven, and thought "Aha! I have found a place where the seed of evil can be planted, and will grow, and grow, and grow! And also I can help myself to free chips on the way out." You just wait. Laura will lose a lot of weight and get a haircut, and end up screaming, "You're lying. It didn't die. You took it. You're lying. You witches! You're lying! You're lying! You're lying! You're LYING!!!" (Watch for Ian's chip-shop career to flourish round about the same time. And expect Pat and Roy to show up bearing gifts of strange-tasting food, and strange-smelling huge earrings. And if we're lucky, we'll actually get to see The Evil Doctor Truman. Probably no guest appearance from Patsy Kelly... but you never can tell. Stranger things have happened. It would definitely make the front page of the News Of The World, though - "Actress Returns From The Dead, Makes Cameo In EastEnders!".)

Well, that's about it for today. But remember. If you see any little boys around - run, do not walk, but run away (or take a helicopter if one is available. One might be available if you live in a James Bond movie. Well, you never know), screaming. That little boy is evil. And he's out to get you.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-25T14:10:00.000Z

Here, pussycat

My piano got tuned today. The lady was supposed to arrive at 10.30am - instead she came at about ten past and I had to rush to brush my hair and put on my makeup as she was getting from her car to the front door. Then I sat around and watched her tuning my piano, which was possibly very annoying for her. It wasn't really that interesting. She just took off the front of the piano and played "ding, ding, ding" for ages and twisted the little... round things that hold the strings. I told her about the bad note. It's bad because when you have the loud pedal on, it's supposed to hold out all the notes, right? Well one of the Es doesn't hold. It just goes "dong.", like that. So she messed around with the bad note for a long time and said "Good grief" quite a bit. Something weird was up with it. But she fixed it. As she was fixing it she kept playing the notes around it, almost to the tune of "You Can't Hurry Love", and then it really got into my head. I behaved myself when she was here. I kept having an urge to ask asinine questions like, "Do you like being a piano tuner lady?" and "Can you tune big pianos as well as small pianos?" and "What does that little thingy do?", but I remained silent and let her get on with it. Apart from the question about "Why does it do that 'dong.' thing? Is it just Satan?" She looked at me askance and said, "Satan? Um, I don't think it's Satan."

The firefighter strike thing ends on Saturday! Think they're picketing in York? If they are, I'm going to go drive past the fire station on my driving lesson on Wednesday. I have a thing about wanting to date a firelady - I don't know why exactly, but I used to go hang around by the fire station a lot, a few years back. I think that the firepeople thought I wanted to be a firelady myself. I can picture that. Everyone else running around, screaming, "We must save these people!" Me standing there frowning and saying, "Ohhh, I can't, I might break a nail. And can't we put heels on these gumboots? They're so unflattering!"

Last night I dragged all my furniture around my room, so that it's now roughly in the place where it will remain. I also whomped my computer on the head or something - I don't know what I did exactly, but now the picture has gone funny in the bottom left-hand corner. The colours are all crazy. It creates pretty gradiented patterns though. I've probably wrecked my monitor... or maybe one of the wires is loose or something and I just need to wiggle it back in. Damn computers. Can't they move about three metres (okay, maybe four, whatever) without getting all drama-queeny about it?

After dragging the furniture, I now feel all strong. Behold my bulging biceps. I used to have bulging biceps, actually - back in my gym days. Wasn't as bad as my sister. Or this other girl, who was the Star Of The Gym - she had rippling stomach muscles and calf muscles that looked like apples. She was terrifying. And she was also mean. Because she was the Star, it meant that if you were practising on something she could just shove you off if she got the whim. Even if you weren't intimidated by her being the Star, you'd be intimidated by the Mr. Universe type arm muscles that she kept on permanent display.

My cat is in love with the Laura Ashley quilt cover thing. She got on the bed and started whizzing around and pouncing on the quilt and chasing her tail. Thankyou, cat. I just made that bed, and then a big old pudding-shaped cat had to get on it and dig it all up again. She's sleeping now. And getting tabby-and-white cat hairs all over the place. The white should blend in. The tabby won't. Maybe I should have considered this when decorating, and done it all around the Cat Colour Theme?

I'm so eager for people to see my new room. Nobody's really seen it yet. I keep wanting to go and drag people off the street, shrieking, "LOOK AT MY BEDROOM!", but I'd probably get arrested. And besides, I live in a very quiet street. It's the kind of road where if a car goes down it at 2am, you wake up and go look out of the window to find out what's going on. There aren't any people for me to drag... sigh. And my sister is getting bored of being forced to look every twenty minutes. All my posters are up now, though - well, four of them are. My dad hammered in the nails - I would have, but if he did it then it's his fault when they're crooked.

My lost friend is back! The one I wrote about a couple of days ago. Two days ago, I think. But he's back so yay! I'm going to go email him now. Goodbye, everyone - have good karma.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-24T16:58:00.000Z

Time's fun when you're having flies

I went shopping!!!! I am so happy. For nails (except that my dad bought the nails - I stayed in the car and perfected my lipstick), and for a phone line thing, and for sheets and quilt covers. And I bought a Doris Day box set of videos (it's The Thrill Of It All! and Lover Come Back and Young At Heart) that my dad was almost too embarrassed to buy. It was his credit card so I suppose technically he bought it, not me. But I explained to the cash register boy that my dad did not like Doris Day and that I did. I have a feeling that the cash register boy thought I was hitting on him. Hah. Yeah, that's a good line: "Hey, honey. You're looking good. Did I mention I'm a Doris Day fan?" I was just trying to save my dad from further embarrassment. Then we got the quilt cover in Laura Ashley. Doris Day and Laura Ashley - I am such a cliché. Exacerbated by the fact that in Laura Ashley I noticed that the quilt cover thing was named "Tallulah" and so I started squeaking and flapping about and hopping up and down on one foot in a sickening girly way, going, "Oh, my God! Tallulah!" Actually my hopping was kind of reminiscent of John Leguizamo in To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything! Julie Newmar. Or Wesley Snipes when he finds the clothes from the 60s. My mother loves that film. I got it for her last year and she keeps watching it, over and over. I think I just won't ask.

Then on the way back to the car I spotted a Jaguar and started going, "Pleeeeeeeease? When I've passed my driving test?" And my dad went and looked into the windows of the Jaguar (it was a show car - not just somebody's car) and said, "We'll see." Ooooooooohhhhhhhh. Heehee! I have a car now, he bought it for me a while back when I was sixteen (even though you can't even learn to drive here until you're seventeen... I didn't really understand the reasoning there but never mind) so I suppose I should quit being so bratty and start being grateful. But my car is kind of old now. Two years old! And also it's blue. I don't want to have a blue car any more. Maybe I should just get it repainted.

Is it really wrong that I keep buying Doris Day films lately? I suspect that it is. After all... Doris Day? Why? I don't really get it. Never mind.

When I am in public, I act so camp. I'm fairly camp at home, but in public it's worse. I'm a beat away from "ooh ducky". Seriously. It's an affliction... not sure where it comes from. I guess it's okay with me though.

Last night, me and Lili watched Calamity Jane - maybe that's why I got the Doris-buying urge? We can't watch films seriously. Especially not Calamity Jane. We're the kind of people who talk through the film, adding in stupid little comments and stuff. And we have billions of little in-jokes. Like, once we watched this programme on Channel 4 - Sex Tips For Girls - and it was teaching these boys how to "please their ladies" and this lady was showing them how to do something with their thumbs.... anyway, ever since then, whenever some people on film are about to get it on, we go "Sex time!" and do a big thumbs up. You probably have to be there. It's not even that funny then. But it cracks us up, because we are both kind of weird. In Calamity Jane, we always talk about how durned obvious it is that Calamity is a big old dyke. And Katie's her bitch. Katie's actually just a bitch - we think Calamity can do better. It's just really fun, sometimes, to sit there and when Katie goes, "All this place needs is a woman's touch!" Lili says, "Yeah, so does Calamity!" And then when Calamity is married and takes her gun with her in case of any actresses, it's just so that she can shoot her husband and move in on them there thespians. Yeah. You really do have to be there, I think.

My mother has decided that we are getting a puppy. I don't know why. We already have a dog. A big stinky one that shouts very loudly and breaks things. Still, we are getting a puppy anyway. Lili and I have been very helpful in choosing dog names (Me: "Patsy?" Lili: "Doyle?" Me: "Dee Dee?" Lili: "Oscar?" Me: "Tallulah-The-Dog?" Lili: "Oscar Doyle?" Me: "Mr Psycho?" Lili: "Mr Oscar Doyle Psycho?" Me: "Mr Oscar Doyle Tallulah Dee Dee The Psycho Dog?"). My mother does not agree with any of our dog name choices. I think "Patsy" is a great name for a dog. It sounds like the way they walk, don't it? If it's a small dog. Patsy-patsy-patsy-patsy. See? They go patsying along the road. I know that I already made "patsy" into an adjective (if you missed that, uh, sparkling entry, "patsy" means "very good and funny") - I think I'll make it into a verb now. Now, "patsy" is the way that small dogs walk. As in, "I patsy. You patsy. He patsies. She patsies. They patsy. We all patsy." If a small dog does it in a very good and funny way, you can even say, "The way that dog patsied was just patsy!"

I am wearing trousers today. I know I protest wildly about wearing trousers in winter, but I have to. I have a big bruise on my left knee. It used to be a kind of indigo blue, now it has faded to purply brown. I told my mother I didn't know how I got it, but really I did it falling over the washing basket in the middle of the night while holding a very fat cat, which is why I didn't tell her how I got it.

I really do hope she names the puppy (which will be a girl, by the way) "Mr Psycho".

Kitty xxx

2002-11-23T20:26:00.000Z

Think Pink!

It's true, what I said yesterday. I am detached from my emotions. I think a lot, instead of feeling. It's okay and all that; maybe it makes it more interesting, but perhaps that's the reason I didn't cry at Sweet November. Alas. My generation are hard-boiled and cynical. I remember when I was sixteen and all hormonal, I fell in love, in my Kitty way. With my best friend, Laura. Oops. But even then, it wasn't the proper kind of love - I didn't have all the crying into my pillow and stuff, that my friends said they had; I just used to hang around with her a lot, and wear extra makeup. Laura was pretty cool though. She had brown hair and blue eyes, and she talked all the time and laughed a lot, and swore like a cheerful sailor. She was the chef at the restaurant where I was pretending to be a waitress. We had a funny kind of relationship. See, she was a very motherly kind of person, and she liked to mother me along with it. So somehow I started acting all gauche and needy, I don't exactly know if it was deliberate or not, and that way it fitted together. Except that "gauche and needy" is just not what I'm like. Loud? Yes. Annoying? Well, yeah. Assertive? Very much so. But if I'd been that way around her, she wouldn't have wanted me to hang out with her so much... That makes sense, doesn't it? I think it does. It was a pretty stupid thing to do, but never mind. I can be such a chameleon, sometimes. She moved away in the end and it was kind of my fault. See, the reason she lived here was because she had a big fight with her mother and left home when she was 18. She was 20 when I knew her and I got her to write to her mother and they made it up and she went back down the other end of the country to be near her.

Sigh. I am so selfless and sacrificing. An angel, perhaps. Yes. The Heavenly Kitty. Don't know why I told you about that, it just came into my head. Things do that and then I just talk on about them for ages... I get so boring.

When my mother eats, she gets everything on her plate and smushes it all together so that it all tastes the same and has all the different things in each bite. I keep everything as separate as possible. Do you think that says all these really deep, meaningful things about the way we look at life? Or should I just quit talking about my alimentary canal?

For once, I can't think of anything to say. Well, I can, but it's not entirely appropriate... not in that way, just in a kind of "Nobody wants to hear about Patsy Kelly AGAIN!" way.

I miss my friend! Not Laura, my other friend who I'm not going to name on here (although having said that, everyone has a fake name on here, so I should probably give him one, but I'm not going to). He hasn't replied to my emails for ages. He's not dead. Although he did go missing for a week, last week. But now he's back and he's still not talking to me. Damn him. Damn him!!!!!

Jeeeesus! I was on Livejournal (don't ask why. I do odd things sometimes) and for a joke I looked up the users who listed "Death" as an interest. I only got the first 1000. And the first page, of 100, only managed to show journals that had been updated up to 35 minutes ago. I'm too busy with life to think about dying.

Actually, I'm thinking about it now. Being all morbid and macabre or whatever. Do you think that maybe, after you die, you just come back as you again and re-live your whole life and do it all exactly the same as you did, and do it again and again without ever knowing it? Like Groundhog Day. Except that he knew about it. Maybe I've already done all this about nineteen times, and I just don't know it, and at this point in all my other lives I had the exact same thought and wrote about it in this weblog, which of course I had in all my lives, and I'm still not tired of doing it. Actually, I'm bored now. I've done this way too many times. I think I might go do something else, except that I've done that already too.

Why did I have to think of that? Stupid Kitty. My thoughts definitely run away with me sometimes. Still, at least that probably means they're toned and muscular.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-22T22:43:00.000Z

I ain't hep to that step, but I'll dig it!

By the way, that's the name of one of the songs on Doris Day's CD. I haven't listened to that song yet, because I have an image of how it should sound in my head, and it probably won't really be as funny as my idea of it. Or it might be. Which is why I said "yet" - maybe I'll listen to it later.

I can't wait to go to France. You know what I'm going to do when I get there? I'm going to get cats. Really! I have a cat now but she can't come to France, she'd get hit by a car or something and she likes it here, so she's staying. So I'm going to get new cats. Little baby ones. French ones. I want to get about four of them, maybe. All girls because I think girl cats are prettier in the face. Maybe I will call one of them "Patsy". Patsy the catsy. Awww! Anyway.

I really miss gym, lately. I used to do gymnastics, a lot. I started off when I was two years old and I stopped when I was about thirteen or fourteen. It's a shock to your system when you stop - twelve years of gymnastics three, four, five, even six times a week, and then nothing. But I was too tall, and I wasn't as into it as I was, and also I was just getting into my teens and noticing how the gym had given me bulging muscles in all kinds of weird places, and so I quit. I think what I miss the most is bars. Bars was my favourite piece, at least it was for while. I miss the chalk! And the way the handguards kind of pinched and pulled, and you couldn't open out your hand the whole way when you were wearing them. And I miss learning how to do backaways (that's a back somersault dismount, for any non-gymmy-people) into the foam pit and getting tangled up halfway through and ending up landing in some weird position in all the blocks of foam. It's so odd, not to be doing it any more - although it's been a while now so I really should be used to it. Just every so often I get thinking about it. I used to always have bruises on my hipbones from babygrands. Damn babygrands. Those are when you start off in front support and then swing out and extend and go around and then kind of circle up again. Oh, I'm so good at describing it. It took me ages to learn them, I was about nine or ten and I was terrible at them and then finally I could do them and then once I missed one in a competition and was left hanging off the bar and in the end hooked my leg over in a very undignified manner and managed to get up that way. And beam! Beam was great. Everyone hated it, except me. Vault sucked, though.

It's funny because with vault, one of the first things you learn is a long-arm. Long-arms are incredibly easy to do; at least that's what everyone always thought. But the other day I was thinking about it, and really, doing a handspring over a vault when you're about 4'6'' isn't that easy, is it? It was, though. I don't know. Maybe it was just because we were all so competitive. We had this coach, she was evil. You'd be learning box splits by standing up and then sliding down and lying on your front, and your butt would be sticking up a little if you weren't down all the way, and then she'd put a springboard on you and sit on it so that you got all the way down. It was so pleasant. And also, if you fell off the beam or whatever doing something, you had to get back up there and do twenty of that thing right away, even if you hit your head and were dizzy and shaking. You still had to do it. Learning back flips on the beam was the worst thing.

Maybe I don't miss it so much after all. It was just nice to be able to do things. I can only do splits on one leg now. If Evil Coach saw that, she'd kill me. Or sit on me, more like. Anyway!

You know, it's funny... I'm so detached. I don't exactly know how to explain it, but it's like, if I have an emotion, instead of getting all overcome I think "Oh, an emotion. How peculiar. Where did that come from? Why is it here? How does that make me feel?" and kind of categorise it up. I was thinking about that earlier. This probably indicates that I am schizophrenic. (Damn you, R.D. Laing! Why did I have to read your book? WHY???)

What's black and white and eats like a horse?
A zebra. Heh heh heh.

Anyway, I really should be going now. Shopping tomorrow! Isn't shopping wonderful? My friend-who-I-hate, Archibald (hee! Oh, I'm so evil to fake-name him that. But, hee! again) is talking to me and trying to get me to send pictures of me to him. I don't know why. He knows damn well what I look like. He quite often sends me pictures of him. If I looked like him, I wouldn't. (I am being such a mean Kitty.) On bad days, I get the feeling that I do look like Archibald, and I look in the mirror and all I can see is him, looking back at me! It's quite disturbing, I'm telling ya. I really am horrible. I can't help it though. I am not a particularly nice person at the best of times and I'm okay with it. There's just something about Archibald (heehee! Archibald!) that irritates me so much that I want to throw corkscrews at his head.

I'm going to leave you on that pleasant note.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-22T03:35:00.000Z

More movie chatter, as per usual, and perhaps a little something-something on the side

I just watched Sweet November. The old one, with Sandy Dennis. For the first time in my life, I am lost for words. ...Hah, okay, who believed that? I'm never lost for words. Well, how can I put this? Okay. It was as though the makers of the movie went on a huge trip, around the world, gathering up piles and piles of cheap sentiment. Finally they came back with their load and put it through a squashing machine, so that the cheap sentiment was compressed into the cheapest, most sentimental two hours you could find. Then they made it into a huge ball. Then they put me in the middle, and I had to eat my way out, with it all clogging up my nose and ears and eyes and pores... and they most definitely used artificial sweeteners.

Really. It's that bad.

Well, ish. If I'd been making that movie (a phrase I utter frequently), I'd have made it even more sentimental. Seriously, I would have. They threw away a wonderful death-bed scene! They could have gone so many places with that but they didn't even bother. Think of the possibilities!

Girl: "And I just want to tell you............. how much...... you mean to me.................................."
Boy: "Before you, I was cold and closed off. Now I truly know the meaning of love."
Girl: "The dawn will come....... the sun will rise........ a new day brings a new beginning................"
Boy: "Sob."
Girl: *head flops down sideways. Girl is now dead.*

And also, they totally skipped on the scene where the girl coughs slightly, and the boy goes "Are you okay?" and she says, "Me? Oh, I'm fine," and looks away and then they do a close-up on her looking all nervous and frowning while flickering her eyes around... you know the kind of shot I mean. And you know, they only got Sandy Dennis to cry about four times. Sandy Dennis is a fabulous tear-procurer; they should have harnessed her talent (as it were) and made her go through the entire movie with mascara running down her cheeks. Except that in these kind of movies they always use non-run mascara. And the girl's disease is never debilitating, and manifests itself only in symptoms such as "sometimes she gets cold" and "she was tired, the other night". They don't even name the disease. It's nothing infectious, obviously. And it's nothing that oozes. It's just something that will enable her to die, romantically, and still looking cute.

It was kind of funny because about half an hour before the end of the film, my mother came downstairs holding a sick bucket. I told her she was going to need it. She said, Why, What's Going On? I said, It's Like Love Story, But Worse. She said, I Felt Bad Before. This Will Probably Make Me Feel Worse, Should I Leave? I said, No, I Need To Share Your Sick Bucket.

I should really invest in some of those " " things.

Incidentally, this was the first time my mother had actually witnessed the spectacle that is Sandy Dennis. She is absolutely repelled by her. I am still enchanted. Really, I am! I'm not being sarcastic at all. I love Sandy Dennis!

The funniest thing was, Sandy Dennis and Strange Flat-Haired English Man had absolutely zero chemistry. None. Zip. They did all the cute In Love things that people do in movies like this, like going on ferries and flying model aeroplanes (although why In Love people do that I have no idea. Shouldn't they be at home, Loving each other?) but all the time they were doing that, English Man looked aloof and cynical, and Sandy looked bored half to death. I'd say bored to tears, but as I said before, she barely cried. Barely for Sandy Dennis, anyway - for other people it might be some sort of tearduct record, if such records exist, and if they don't exist they should.

Wow. I'm very bitter, for someone who just watched a movie that was supposed to Touch My Heart (TM).

Here, read about me at the Lesbian Astrology place. I am a Gemini. Heh. Think they got me right? Seeing as this page is All About Me, I didn't link to anyone else's star sign. Haha. If you're a Gemini too (hello, we're compatible!) then that's all good; if you're not, look at other ones. Look! My quality is being assertive, stroke positive. I wasn't very positive about Sweet November, was I? Although it has to be said, I am still positive about Sandy Dennis, despite having just watched Sweet November. That most definitely labels me as an optimist. Ooh, it says I don't like to be alone. I'm alright with being alone (not quite at the Greta Garbo level but I'm on my way). I kind of talk to myself, but that's not a bad thing is it? It also says that I don't do security and monogamy in relationships. Excuse me? I am very monogamous.

Except that actually, I don't do relationships at all. You see, I can never find someone I want to be in a relationship with. Even if they seem perfect, I find a flaw. I always fall for straight girls, which is probably an unconscious decision on my part (not on theirs - they're probably just straight naturally). And when I get crushes on movie stars or whatever, which I do with alarming frequency, they're either completely heterosexual, or dead. Because somewhere, I don't want there even to be a whisper of a chance. And you know why? Because nothing's ever like it is in the movies! Damn Hollywood! Look what it does to you! You can make yourself movie-perfect and even then you'll never find anyone who matches up to the standards!

Here's a pinch of salt to go with the above paragraph.

Really, though, I kind of have a point with that, I think. I want everything I've ever seen in the movies! (Imagine a fountain gushing around me right now. Yeah. You've got it.) Quentin Crisp, he said that everyone who goes to America from England and comes back again says that it's more like the movies than they ever dreamed. I need to get to America. Then I'll meet someone who looks like Gina Gershon. (If it is her, we'd have good sex - see, we're both Geminis and the Lesbian Astrology place told me so.)

So, if you managed to get through this entire post, why don'tcha go rent Sweet November? You know you want to.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-21T15:58:00.000Z

Jump up and say "Woo-woo!"

I don't know why I'm bothering to write this - my weblog has PMS, or perhaps one of those nasty conditions that make you itch, and is therefore in a bad mood and refusing to actually post any of my posts. But what the hay - it might come up some day, and if it doesn't then I will just sit around reading it myself. Well why not?

Anyway I have a couple of links to share with you today. First off, Betty Bowers reviews the Eminem movie. "Yes, Eminem was rather fey, but what do you expect from an actor named after a candy that boasts that it is available without nuts?" Oh please read it. I want to have her babies! What? It could happen. Umm umm... I'm trying to think of some of the other things I wanted to send everyone to... ooh, subscribe to Popbitch if you haven't already. Because it's funny. Yep. I like the Old Jokes Home. Today's joke:

Albert Einstein, Pablo Picasso, and George W. Bush arrive at the Pearly Gates and introduce themselves.
St. Peter says, "Prove to me that's who you are."
Einstein takes a piece of paper, writes E=MC squared, and then starts writing the formulas that lead him to it.
St. Peter says, "I believe you, come on in."
Picasso takes out a pencil and paper and starts to draw.
St. Peter says, "I believe you, come on in."
George W. Bush says to St. Peter, "Who were those guys?"
St. Peter says, "Come on in, George."

Heehee. Actually I've heard that one before but it's still funny. Anyway. Melanie Griffith's website used to be funny, or at least rather droll... I haven't been there in a while. Does she still have those embedded sound files of her saying stuff like, "Please, sign my guestbook!"? Heh.

Whatever happened to Bea Lillie? Is she dead? I'm getting confused now. Is she the one who married the baronet? (Obligatory Patsy Kelly quote: "I thought he was a coronet". Patsy also said that Bea Lillie's autobiography, Every Other Inch A Lady, should have been entitled Every Other Inch A Gent. See, this is why I heart Patsy.) I don't know anything that happened to her after the baronet. Blah. I don't know why I'm talking about this. It was just bugging me earlier.

Ooh, speaking of Patsy, as I always do, I watched her movie Pigskin Parade last night! Singing Patsy! Swinging (from the ceiling) Patsy! Yeah, I'm not going to be watching that one again for a while. It scared me half to death.

I know I had lots of things to write before. Now I can't think of them. My cat is licking me! Heehee. Sorry, it tickles. You know, I still sometimes think of my cat as a kitten, but she's old now. She's four! I remember when I got her. We'd been trailing around all these different cat rescue places all day looking at kittens and trying to choose one. I was getting one and my sister was getting one too. So, two. Yeah. That really muddled me up, somehow. It was the final cat place and I still hadn't found one that I really loved and then we walked in and there was this kind of... coop thing with five kittens in it. One of them was climbing around all over the place and yelling. And one of them was just sitting by the door and looking at us, and I looked back at her and just went crazy over her. My cat! Yay! Woo! Houpla! Anyway. Yes. We got her and she came home, and Lili picked another kitten because it was all floppy and dying-looking, and it turned out that it probably was dying but the vet managed to mend it. And ever since then, our house has been turned into a House Of Worship for my cat. She's the kind of cat that if she walks into the room, everyone turns round and goes "Awww!! Think she wants my chair?" And if she takes your chair, you feel honoured. Heh. My cat rules. Once, when she was a baby, she fell down behind the freezer. And once she got stuck in a tree in someone else's garden. And once she didn't come home for four days and I was so worried that I went out looking for her, at 5am, and I walked six miles and then I found her in a field and she was just standing there and purring and giving me a sort of, "What are you doing here, you mad crazy freak?" look. She has to go to the vet soon, actually. She has itchy ears. And also she needs to get weighed. Last time she was 5.95kg. This time she's going to be a lot more than that. I know I've told you about my cat's weight before, but it's a perfectly good and interesting topic! Okay, so it's not, hah, it's my blog, ner ner.

I think I'm going to go now. Maybe I should watch another film with Dancing Patsy. Shake it, Patsy! (Saying that out loud is SO much fun!) Hee! Oh, I love Thursday, it's totally the best day. I wonder what it would look like if you turned off the sound on one of the Dancing Patsy movies and played something like The Stripper instead? Or one of those porn music things that go wokka-chikka-bow-wowww... or so I've heard. Cough.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-20T17:32:00.000Z

Guess who I'm going to talk about today?

Me. Of course. And Patsy Kelly. Double-of-course. I watched The Girl From Missouri last night! Patsy's name in it was Kitty, which was rather handy because it meant that every time anyone called her "Kitty", I thought about me. Naw, I'm just spoofing, I didn't really. The film contained dancing Patsy!!!! That's a good thing. And man-crazy Patsy!! Which is a quite confusing thing. And getting-slapped-in-the-face-by-Jean-Harlow Patsy, which I guess is a bad thing, although fairly entertaining to watch. Also, in random order, Patsy-wearing-swimming-costume-and-bomping-some-hunky-lifeguard, Patsy-in-underwear, Patsy-opening-up-Jean-Harlow's-coat-and-going-"Where's-your-dress?!", and to top it all off, Patsy-in-an-evening-gown, which was fairly disturbing to behold.

Seems like everyone who blogs is talking about weight issues these days. I'd jump on that bandwagon, but I don't want to. Makes me sad, insofar as I have any deeper emotions that don't involve Patsy Kelly and/or bubble baths. I don't even own a scales any more. They're bad for you! What do they tell you anyway? You can be exactly the same height and measurements as someone, and they can weigh a stone more than you. It's just plain silly.

The lilies in my room are all opening and my entire room smells of them. Lilies and lychees. It's nice, I think; kind of odd when you first come in though. The lychees is from a room spray. It's lovely. I want to drink it. If I did, I'd die and all, but I'd die all happy and intoxicated. I don't think I'll try it though.

I forced my sister to watch dancing Patsy. My mean sister referred to her as "Fatsy". My sister sucks. It's kind of funny because I keep buying up Patsy Kelly movies, while Lili has a thing about an old actress of her own - Lola Lane. Lola and Patsy died in the same year, but Lola was older. And blah blah blah. Anyway.

Writing "blah blah blah" is cheating. It's pretending to blog and hoping that people don't notice. What the hay.

Ooh, I drove today. My mother had to sit next to me because I'm not allowed to drive on my own. First of all I drove to the bingo, to pick up my grandma (who was angry about having to sit in the back seat), and then I drove out to the curtain shop because we were picking up my curtains, quite obviously, seeing as it's a curtain shop. So I have one curtain up now! I so need a pelmet. And tie backs. My curtain is red velvet. So is the other one, hopefully, but that one's still in the box.

The smell of the flowers is really going to my head. I'll get all high off of it, or something, and run around doing crazy flower-induced things. I know someone who took something, he doesn't know what it was, but it made him think he was being chased by an evil bubble. Just thought I'd share. I think that's my motto in life - "Just thought I'd share". It's a good one. Well, there's nothing wrong with sharing, honey, unless it's a disease or something.

I put my blog through the poemiser thing that I got to from KD's blog. Some of the poems that came out are surprisingly good and arty.

Confessions of Kodak And said about being perfectly
candid, I am as last
night. Seriously, she said, Noooo.... but
I . finally they sell albums for £
the A lot of laughing, they and
put the
poached egg song! on my grandmother
likes to Doris measurements
are fun! In
a Gershwin one is actually
not, concentrating and a Piano My hair
is with Raquel Welch
and her about the ones
who I got
here buy anything Maybe twice her
boyfriend And goes Psssh!
Je
ris, mais je ris, mais je
ne suis pas Monna
Vanna! over most days...
Because
I took about buying Julia Roberts is
black.

That one's totally deep. And has French lines! And look at this one:

Confessions boobs Google wallpaper
is Doris one
is, kind of day. conversation I o l c++
Links I put
it for a few days
later after the way, in
case you were
upside down, is wonderful, But then
those people and
some girl who was bovine,
just
because of nephritis And, then sticking with
her so it was dry and leaning
against the students bundled up
myself. or something to
my hair curl. Because people
say something else entirely. I do.

Is it just me, or does that make sense?

I
am as Kerouac But my
mum was
a good joke. and described it was
in itself but I
have, I had to tell everyone that
this tomorrow.
I hate your pick.
Answers on rollers.

That one's definitely art.

Confessions of
them out and whenever they
do that
the conclusion that is The unpure
lifestyle and then My grandma. is black. and some people
might be working the back
to
think Oh,
I managed it up. to put on a
trained monkey.

That's a wonderful poem. Really black, and full of pain. But the next one's my favourite. I think it completely sums up my blog:

Confessions of them to read the
way. it out.of
this pink too. snobbish for Some of boring...
No, not sure exactly but clicked
the arthouse cinema snob.

Well, that's about all we've got time for today. Tune in next time for more mindless chatter, possibly about Patsy Kelly in her underwear. And remember, legwarmers are a bad idea.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-19T16:20:00.000Z

If Milli Vanilli fell in the woods, would someone else make a noise?

Isn't site monitoring great? I just started doing mine and am pleasantly surprised by the fact that I actually have visitors. Also, I love the referral things. So much fun. Yep. Also, amusing at times. Today, I bring you the List Of Things That People Have Looked Up In Search Engines And Got To My Site Instead!

hello kitty blogspot (Google)
teenage lesbian confessions (Google)
wallpaper popeye and olive (Yahoo)
The Monkey's Mask Dorothy Parker (Yahoo)
"breakfast at tiffany's" ebert (Google)
horsey wallpaper border (AOL)
deneuve ardant lesbian photo (Google)
kitty cat xxx (Google)
kerry absolutely nothing webcam (Google)
Do you have any pictures of a waving kitty? (Google)
pyjamas - Audrey hepburn print (Google)
giant kitty boobs (Google)
confessions,boobs (Yahoo)
confessions of a driving instructor (Freeserve)
fanny ardant, lesbian, interview (Google)
hello kitty colour phone wallpaper (Lycos)
Capucine fashion model (Yahoo)

Some of those people must have been sorely disappointed. I love the thing that came up under the "Capucine fashion model" one - look:

Confessions of a Kitty cat - ... Here's one of Capucine. ... and when she wrote back saying that I could be a model it made me ... and end up licking each other around the mouth in a doglike fashion. ...
http://kitty-kitty.blogspot.com/

Hee hee. Things are so much funnier when they aren't in context, sometimes.

Ooooh. My grandma is cross with me today (as always). See, I got a phone call on my bedroom phone, I have a line here mainly for the internet but there's a phone stuck into it just in case I ever get the urge. And it wasn't for me, it was for her, someone called directory enquiries and got my number, but you see my phone has terrible reception so I managed to tell the person the number of the main phone line and got them to call her there. Apparently that was very rude of me. Never mind the fact that she'd have had to come up the stairs which takes her about five hours anyway, and never mind the fact that even when she got here she wouldn't have been able to hear a word the person was saying. But yeah. I'm evil. Over the past few days I have been called disgusting, rude, stupid, and had a little tirade directed at me about "Bad blood will out!" and stuff about how there's "no changing her, she's one of those girls". Yeah, it's really fun.

The problem is, I am not the kind of person who just sits there and looks humble when people say stuff like that. I used to have a very fiery temper. I lost it a lot. But over the past few years I've changed... I really am a bitch now. See, I don't shout at the person. I talk in very measured tones and break out all those words, those words that you get extra points on in spelling tests, and I argue my case that way. I get very cold. It's quite horrible, actually... I remember once, arguing with a girl and finally she just broke down and cried. And you know, most people would start feeling bad about making her cry, wouldn't they, and start being nice and apologetic. I didn't. I looked at her and said, "Lachrymosity isn't going to get you anywhere." Isn't that terrible? Oh, well. If I don't say anything back to my grandmother when she's telling me off, she says I'm not listening. If I say something back, she says, "Oh, you, you've got an answer for everything." I've pretty much given up now, I guess. Sigh. Never mind.

I got bored last night and was looking at pictures of fanny online. Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Fanny Ardant. She's so cool, in a scary, statuesque kind of way. Want to see? Hee! Yes you do!

And look! PATSY!!!

Think she really was a jinx? That's what they said, back in the old days. Because she kept working with people and then they died. Like Thelma Todd - she got murdered by her boyfriend in 1935. And Jean Harlow. She died in 1937, I think, of nephritis - that's that kidney thing, right? Uremic poisoning caused by acute nephritis. And, oh, Carole Landis, who committed suicide. And Lyda Roberti, who suddenly had a heart attack while tying up her shoelaces - that's got to be embarrassing. Not as embarrassing as that other girl, though. Lupe Velez! She was committing suicide, a Seconal overdose I think, and she had it all laid out; silk nightgown, perfume, perfect makeup, only then she had to go throw up and she went into the toilet and died with her head in the bowl. And Patsy worked with her first, so it was probably her fault seeing as how she was this big jinx. Oh, and that bloke. I forget his name. Patsy went to see him after his show and him and Patsy were in his car, and he accidentally drove backwards off a cliff or something, into the sea. Some people fished out Patsy but he just died. Yep. That's Patsy. And You Will Know Her By The Trail Of Dead.

Yeah, so, all that was really worth talking about, wasn't it? It's educational. Really. Now you know! It might come in handy during a game of Trivial Pursuit or something, except that not even Trivial Pursuit is that trivial.

I never get any interesting emails any more. Just spam. About 120 spams every day. Yech. I don't want to increase my penis size, thankyou very much. I am very happy with my penis size the way it is.

Today I was talking to my mum, first off we were bitching about my grandma (my mum gets nagged too, worse than I do. She was hiding out in her study pretending to be working when I found her) and then she started talking about me, and I asked her if she thought I was up my own arse. She paused. For a very long time. And then she said, "Noooo.... but I can see how people might get that impression." Hee! Anyway. That really cheered me up, somehow. Then we talked about my grandmother who had apparently been hinting strongly about my lack of a boyfriend. And talking about some girl who was somebody's granddaughter and who had shacked up with a man twice her age and it was shocking, and "imagine if that was your Kitty, you'd be worried wouldn't you!" My mother said, "If it was Kitty? I'd be very worried."

Loooook. It's Patsy Kelly again! And poor murdered Thelma Todd. That's so cute - Patsy is standing right on the tips of her toes to appear taller! Bless.

My mother thinks it strange that I call people "cranberry". She said, "Why cranberry, of all things?" I said, "I don't know..." She said, "Why not 'biscuit', or something?" I said, "Well, I call people 'cookie', does that count?" She said, "I think you're crazy."

Look - Mike linked to me and he said that this thingy is "mainly about movies". I suppose it is. Didn't really think of it that way before. I should find other conversational topics and then converse on them, knowledgeably. Until then, I'm sticking with movies. Safe area. And my grandmother, which is not such a safe area, but what the hay - I need to bitch about everything somewhere.

Blah blah blah. I do go on. I never did know when to shut up... now would be a good time.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-18T15:14:00.000Z

Well, would you ever?

Parcels today!!! I get ridiculously excited over parcels. Well, if I'm being perfectly candid, I get ridiculously excited over most things, but especially parcels. And two in one day! One of them was a bunch of videos (yay! yay! yay!) and the other one was a photo of Patsy Kelly (woo! woo! woo!). I put Patsy in a frame. Yeah, get out of the frame, Julia-Roberts-in-Venice, I need it for Patsy.

I'm so fickle.

Time was, I really liked Julia Roberts. I still do, I suppose. I have almost all her movies. It's faster to count the ones I don't have. The ones I don't have, apart from the ones that aren't released yet, are Baja Oklahoma, Blood Red, Firehouse and Crime Story (damn TV movies). Everything else I have. I even have that weird Mongolia thing where she dressed in Mongolian clothes and rode little fat horses around while talking about how the fermented horse milk tasted like fizzy yoghurt and got her hair all messy. Isn't that scary? But ha, Julia, you don't get to be in the frame any more. Oh, come on, I bought I Love Trouble, I'm allowed to take her out of the frame.

Actually, I Love Trouble isn't that bad. Okay, well, it's quite bad. But it's fairly harmless, you know, and... well, yeah. Want to know something else? I liked Flatliners. Really, I did! I really disliked Dying Young, though... God. It's just plain morbid. Stepmom's kinda morbid too, now that I come to think of it.

But yay! I feel very virtuous. I love my little database thinger - look what happens now when I look up Patsy Kelly!

Search: Patsy Kelly Results: [5]

Girl From Missouri, The
In Old California
Pick A Star
Pigskin Parade
Rosemary's Baby

Mmhmm. FIVE! It doesn't sound too good, but when you consider that there are only THREE Patsy movies available in the UK, I think I'm doing pretty well. Just out of interest...

Search: Julia Roberts Results: [26]

America's Sweethearts
Conspiracy Theory
Dying Young
Erin Brockovich
Everyone Says I Love You
Flatliners
Hook
I Love Trouble
Mariage De Mon Meilleur Ami, Le
Mary Reilly
Mexican, The
Michael Collins
My Best Friend's Wedding
Mystic Pizza
Notting Hill
Ocean's Eleven
Pelican Brief, The
Player, The
Pret-A-Porter
Pretty Woman (Director's Cut)
Runaway Bride
Satisfaction
Sleeping With The Enemy
Something To Talk About
Steel Magnolias
Stepmom

Hee! I have My Best Friend's Wedding in French! I forgot about that. Must watch it again some time... improve my French skills and all that.

It's kind of funny. You can document my crush on Patsy Kelly in my blog thing... started out when I got that weird lesbians book with the interview with her and I kind of warmed to her and wrote "Also I wouldn't mind marrying Patsy Kelly", or something, back on the 2nd October, when I was writing about Sandy Dennis. And then a few days later I had a weird dream about her and then suddenly was all, "Ooh, Patsy Kelly! Yay!!!" I really am very fickle. Whatever happened to that running lady? Oh, well, it's winter, she doesn't run in winter probably. When the athletics comes back on TV I'll probably start writing about her again.

See, this is why I don't date people. I get bored so easily! I get bored with my clothes like that *snap* - imagine how I am with girlfriends! I should make an effort and commit. I do commit. See? I committed to buying Julia Roberts movies, that's why I have so many. Meh. What the hay. It doesn't matter.

I should put the Mongolia Horsey Fun thing into my database. Why did Julia Roberts want to go to Mongolia, anyway? I'd tell you about it, but darling Tapehead does it so much better. Tapehead, Soaphead, whatever - he steals my jokes. But then I do it right back to him so I guess that's alright.

Oh, this morning I had an early driving lesson and completely forgot about it. There was a knock on the door and I thought it was my parcel so I sort of popped up and looked out of the window and saw the driving car thing and... I never moved so fast. I got ready, clothes, hair, makeup, in about 30 seconds. I skipped underwear. Heh heh. Didn't have time. Yeah, that's getting my priorities in order - I didn't put on my knickers, but I did put on my eyebrow pencil. Ah, whatever, it was okay and it didn't matter that I was still half-asleep while driving around.

Maybe I should evilly befriend someone who works at Channel 4, and somehow manipulate them into showing all those Patsy Kelly/Thelma Todd shorts. I bet I could do it somehow... just need to figure out how... Ooh. I have a plan: Hey, if you're reading my weblog and you happen to work at Channel 4, e-mail me, because I love you already. Mmmmmpwah. We're going to be such good friends. I can just tell.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-17T23:19:00.000Z

My Grandma

I'm updating because I have something to write about and I want to write it down before I forget. So. Today I was talking to my grandma and we talked about when she was young. And!!! She has heard of Patsy Kelly! She is the only other person I know who has, apart from all the people who have been informed. By me. But she remembers her! At first she didn't, but then she said, "Is she a comedian? Oh, she was ever so funny, Patsy Kelly..." and waxed not-exactly-lyrical, but kind of fond about how comical Patsy was.

I am so jealous of my grandma. She used to go out ballroom dancing every night and she always wore a hat, because people did then, and she went to the movies twice a week because it was good to do that, and she had a dressmaker to make all her clothes, she didn't buy anything just from a shop or whatever. My generation sucks. Denim. My God. But also, she was telling me about how her and her friend Muriel went dancing and then there was a soldier who Muriel didn't like, so she threw a glass of water over him. And then she started talking about a coffee party she went to at Anthony Hopkins' mother's house. As you do. And then she talked about her friend Eve, who is Betty's niece (I wasn't sure who Betty was exactly, but then was told that she's my aunt), and that Eve stayed at Anthony Hopkins' house last year, since his mother moved away to America and she didn't want to stay in a hotel.

I am so jealous of my grandma. Oh, I said that already. Not because of Anthony Hopkins, and Betty being his godmother, and blah blah blah, although that is pretty cool. But because she got to go dancing and see Patsy, all big, in the cinema! Why wasn't I born in 1920? That would have been so wonderful. Except for the whole war thing, and all.

Bloody modern-ness. Who'd have it?

Kitty xxx

2002-11-17T13:53:00.000Z

"Peter O'Toole looks like he's walking around just to save funeral expenses." - John Huston

We went shopping this morning, for a new video player. My parents needed one. You see, the one that's in the living room is actually mine and I want to put it in my bedroom now. Why am I telling you about buying a video player? Blah. That's so uninteresting.

Speaking of boring... No, but really. I used to have this friend, right, he's 19 and he lives in Los Angeles and he used to be so much fun! In a way that he didn't even really know that he was doing. He was so pretentious and camp and I said things like "Black is the new black" to him and instead of laughing he said, "Oh, I knowwww, sweetie, have you seen the new Versace collection? It's to die!" He was wonderful! Also, once he bought this Gaultier top and was all mad-crazy about it and described it as a "shrunken camisole", then he sent me a picture of it and it's a bra. He bought a bra! And he wore it all over the place in the summer without noticing that it was a bra. Anyway I didn't hear from him for a while and then recently I did again. A bad thing happened. He had an epiphany. Well, really he didn't, he just got dumped by his boyfriend and then read a book by Jack Kerouac, but now he has "given up the unpure lifestyle" and is going to college and stuff, and wants to change his first name to "Kerouac"! But the thing is, he's still pretentious. He still talks about celebrities all the time, but now he does it in a boring way and just tells me to look at luxuryfashion.com and stuff.

I think the real problem with fashionistas is that they are so humourless. They sit around at those fashion shows and look at the runways where there's a skinny girl dressed up like a giant chicken and instead of laughing, they say, "The use of colour is simply sublime!" Designers, though, I think they get it. They're the ones who make the chicken suits and put the skinny girls in them, and then convince everyone that no, it's not silly, it's art. Any designer like that is aces by me.

God. Look at me. I'm such a hypocrite. Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen - I, Kitty, buy Harper's Bazaar. And I say "divine". And I call everyone "darling". But all the time I'm doing that, it's kind of tongue-in-cheek. Maybe that's the problem - it starts out that way, but then everyone catches onto it and starts going, "Yah, it's just fabulous, sweedie" without noticing that it was a joke in the first place. They turn into self-caricatures. Think that's going to happen to me? I do call people "cranberry", after all. But I like it!

Oh, by the way, I want to tell you a conversation I recently had with said friend, who I am going to start referring to as "Kerouac" seeing as he wants to change his name to that anyway. He was talking about names for his children, if he ever has any, and he said that Ingrid Bergman was divine. I said that she was bovine, just to be mean. He ignored that and said that maybe he'd name his daughter "Ingrid", after her. I said that if I ever had a daughter I'd name her "Pongo". He said that "Pongo" was a good name and had "Eastern influence". Damn Kerouac. He didn't get it! He was serious as a heart attack. My poor friend. Look what modern day society does to people! Maybe I'll give in and squawk along.

I slept on the rollers and it was very painful. Then I woke up and took them out and my hair wasn't curly. Damn the rollers. Damn all the rollers, everywhere, in all of the world! *shakes puny fist*

Kitty xxx

2002-11-16T23:41:00.000Z

I'm updating again, and again, and again...

Three times in one day, I've done that before, it's alright. What the hay. I'm allowed.

The reason I'm updating now is... uhh... well, I have rollers in. And my hair is wet. And I can't use the hairdryer because people are in bed. And I can't go to bed because if I do, my hair will fuzz up. I hate sleeping on rollers. They poke into my head and then I end up sleeping with my face in the pillow and having terrible nightmares about... well, last night it was about my computer getting hacked. Which is odd, considering that normally people who have their faces pressed into pillows while sleeping would dream about being suffocated, or at least they should, if the world makes any sense. I only got about an hour's sleep last night anyway, at least it felt like that. And then my hair didn't curl. Because I put the rollers in when it was dry and then went to bed anyway. This time I put them in straight out of the shower and it made my arms ache, and I missed out a whole clump of hair at the back but my hair never curls anyway so it probably won't make too much difference.

Lalala. Oh! Something else to tell you. Look look! Someone else wrote something nice about my blog. See? God. I'm so unbearably up myself. Most people on seeing something nice about their blog on someone's site would think, "Oh, how nice of that person. I will leave them a comment and thank them." I, on the other hand, link to them and force people to read the nice things about me and then tell everyone I know. Actually I don't know if that's "up myself" or "crazy and desperate", or perhaps just "crazy". Take your pick. Answers on a postcard.

I should write about other people's blogs! Yeah! And say nice things and then those people might see and be like "Yay! Someone liked it!"

But.... meh. I can't be arsed.

Heh heh heh.

Anyway. What was I saying? I have a Doris Day album. I just got it today because my mum was driving from Wales to our house, with my grandma, and they stopped at the service station where they sell albums for £2.99, and whenever they do that I get a few new CDs. Today I got "It's Magic" - that's the Doris one - and a Gershwin one that unfortunately does not have the "I'm A Poached Egg" song, is it really called that? Please! Help me, somebody! I need the poached egg song! Oh, and a Piano Magic CD, or something.

My leg itches. I probably have some terrible malady and will have to live in a cave forever.

I took pictures of me with the rollers in and sent them to Renée. She says I must be going for the 50s sitcom look. I guess I'm alright with that. Rollers! Yay. But, nay! Because of the ouchness. (The rollers are pinching my head! It's making my brain hurt. I'm allowed to not make any sense.)

Owww. They're poking me now, and I'm not even horizontal yet. Maybe I should sleep sitting up so that they don't dig in quite so much as last night. Mean rollers! Stop it! Tomorrow I am going shopping. If my hair is crazy in the morning... well, I'll wash out the curls and put it up. Then all will be restored to its former straightness. Hairwise, that is... of course.

Right. Enough talk.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-16T20:51:00.000Z

See, look, I'm busy. I am. I need to be online. I am writing important things.

I'm so not hiding.

My grandma saw my new, redecorated bedroom. The last time she saw my room it was pink. Pink walls, pink rosy border (how suburban!), pink carpet, cute white furniture, and very possibly a few pictures of the Spice Girls. It was pink when we moved in here. This house was only just built and the builders decorated all the rooms and this room was pink. And I was eight. And I loved pink, and chose the room based solely on the fact that it was pink and was at the front (and was the biggest... I really am a brat). So I didn't even get it decorated then. My room in my old house, the one we lived in before I was eight, that room was pink too. Until I peeled off quite a lot of the pink spotty wallpaper by the bed and ate it. It was nice to chew in the night, when I was bored. Then my parents came and looked and said, "Kitty! Why the hell are you eating the wallpaper?" And they painted over it, yellow, and I whined and cried and sobbed and wailed, and finally they repainted it. Pink again. My old room was cool actually, the ceiling had wallpaper too and I was small and couldn't reach it to eat it, not even by jumping on the bed. The ceiling wallpaper had rainbows on and when I was in bed the rainbows were upside down, and the pattern made it look like a face with its eyes closed and a smile, like it was smelling something lovely. Soup. I always thought it looked like it was smelling soup. I don't know why.

But after ten years of living here, in this pink room, I finally had enough and said "No more pink!" And no more cutesy white furniture. And no more fluffy pink rug that smelled of candyfloss (what is with me and edible furniture? You know, I could make a very rude joke here about the rug. But I won't. You can do that for yourself). Actually I might keep the pink rug... but it's in the garage and has most likely been eaten by now, by the damp, or something. Now my room is beautiful. The walls are pale green and the door is white, but the doorframe is black. And the windows are kind of black and white too. And the floor is bleached wood stuff, you know the kind. So my grandma walked in and was disapproving - perhaps at the fact that there is no furniture. Then lots of stuff about the piano. My mother who was accompanying her, to give me some moral support, totally quit on the moral support and said, "Play us something, Kitty!" I said, "Nooooooo." She did a little bit of whinging of her own and got me to perform like a trained monkey. Aquarium, by Saint-Saens. My grandmother didn't look too happy. At the end she said, "Why didn't you play it from the music?" Sigh.

Anyway. She doesn't like my room. It's not bedroomy enough.

She haaaaaates me. Wiggle wiggle wiggle. Bleat bleat bleat. That's me bleating, by the way, and wiggling too.

I love my room, even if she doesn't. And I'm the one who's living in it, until I move out anyway. I think I might go in March instead of January - that way I get to see my furniture, and get more practice with driving and stuff. What do you think I should do? Move to France in March or January? Really. Opinions. I want to know. March might be easier because there would probably be more work. I have to be a cleaning lady or something! Hopefully it will jolt me out of my cocooned spoiled life a little. Why hopefully? That's a bad thing. Really, there's nothing wrong with being cocooned and spoiled, unless you are cocooned and spoiled in the naked-gooey-alien-bursting-gooily-out-of-the-spoiled-gooey-cocoon way. Like in Alien. I think it's Alien anyway - it might be Xena: Warrior Princess.

I took my measurements today. 36-25-36. A month ago I was 36-24-36. I think it may be because I ate a whole chocolate brownie sundae thing yesterday, which was probably 2000 calories in itself - but I don't care. I don't count calories now. I don't! Yeah. I don't. Julia Roberts is 25 inches around the waist. So that's okay isn't it? And she's only a 34B. I was a 34B for aaaaaaages, then suddenly I went up a cup size. In one night. Seriously, I woke up and something felt different and then my bra didn't fit. It was odd. But kind of nice to have breasts, even though I still don't have much breasts. Before, though, I was just flat-chested, socks in the bra kind of thing, you know. Itty bitty titty Kitty. Ooh, look, Doris Day's measurements are also 36-25-36! How cool! Don't ask how I know that. Heh heh. Doris Day's real name is Doris Mary Ann von Kappelhoff. That's so cute. Hello, my name is Doris van Kappelhoff. Aww! She shoulda kept that.

Doris Day's measurements are in her biography on the IMDb. That's how I know. I thought I should tell you in case you thought I was some sort of strange Doris Day fetish person - which of course I am, as well.

Hmm-dee-doody. Lalala. Typing. See? Type type type. I am a very busy person with lots to do.

I should go be nice and sociable. But I'm going to get yelled at and told that I'm ugly and I don't feel like having that done again. I'll go in a bit. Until then...

Look what they're showing at the arthouse cinema next week! This week I mean.

MARLENE DIETRICH : HER OWN SONG (Cert. Unknown)
=======================================
Wed, 6:30PM.

Yay! The Marlene documentary. Unfortunately there will be the film-student problem again, but I'm willing to overlook that. Maybe I'll take my mother. I love my mum! Hehe. I always heard that when you're a teenager you're supposed to hate your mother. I never have. Mine is cool. We get on really well, always have done.

Oooooohhhhh. I just read reviews of Doris Day's autobiography (you really are going to think I have a fetish or something) and some of the people said that they read the book and then wrote to Doris and she wrote back personally! Oh my God! I want to write to Doris Day! She might write to me and say, "Hello. Thankyou for writing to me, Doris. Goodbye, from Doris" or something!

Okay. I'm going to be brave. I might update a lot for the next week or so... I really shouldn't. I should be nice. I should mix and mingle and smile. I'll do that in a minute. Alright. Deep breath.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-16T18:21:00.000Z

Whingey time

Bleh. I can't write for long today. My grandmother is here and she hates me. Seriously, she does. I am lucky enough to have a wonderful mother who never nags me about anything; however, my grandmother likes to make up for this by getting at me non-stop whenever she sees me. She hardly ever sees me anyway, we're talking maybe twice a year now, so you'd think that she'd be happy to be visiting her wonderful grand-daughters. But no. My hair is wrong. My clothes are wrong. Even if they're right, they're too expensive. Would she prefer me to be wearing cheaper clothes? No. Then they'd be too cheap. I'm too tall. I'm too thin. Blah blah blah. I think she quite approves of Lili; well, she doesn't nag her so much anyway. Maybe because she's younger. Hah, just wait Lili, she'll start in on you soon.

I'm hiding in my bedroom. Hee hee. I guess I'll have to go soon but she's just watching TV right now so I am not required to be entertaining/admonished. It's nice in my bedroom. I just framed two posters I have, they're big and they were all rolled up behind a chair in one of the studies downstairs before. So I finally got round to framing them last night, during the Children In Need Charity Bonanza Bash! or whatever it's called. But they look so nice! They're movie posters. Duh. One is for Gilda (There NEVER was a woman like Gilda!) and the other one is for The Blue Angel. But in Italian, so it's L'Angelo Azzura. Marlene Dietrich can be quite scary. It's a nice poster though. They're all standing against the walls now, those two big ones and a slightly smaller one of Audrey Hepburn and a painting by Chagall (the wedding one). And I have lilies. Yay! Lilies! And a glass bowl thing of pot pourri that's on top of my piano because I have nowhere else to put it for now. My poor piano. It's piled up. On the top of it there's the bowl thing, and a metronome, and a china Japanese figure thing (I inherited it from my grandma - my other grandma, not the one that's here), and some Silver Chiming Balls Of Karma or something (Christmas present from said other grandma before she died. Not sure exactly what to do with them but they're kind of cool. And if you juggle with them they go "Ping!" "Dong!" "Ping!" "Dong!") and umm... a file of music and a book of Chopin music and a framed picture of Julia Roberts that will soon be a framed picture of Patsy Kelly and Thelma Todd, and a non-framed picture that's called Endless Day and it's of a white beach and a blue sky and just looking at it brings me more Karma than both of the Silver Chiming Karma Balls.

Maybe I need karma now. Maybe I should get my Karma Balls and... do whatever it is with them that brings good karma. I'm not sure what that is. Hold them, maybe, and shake them around a bit so that they "Ping!" and "Dong!" at the same time? Okay, I'm going to go try that... well, shook them, it didn't really work much. But that's okay.

Okay, my mum's here, must go! Love you darlings.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-14T22:49:00.000Z

The Celluloid Bourgeoisie

Hello, darlings... would you look at the time? 10pm and I'm online anyway. Yep. Anything to keep you updated on the fabulousness that is my life.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I am a Cinema Snob. I don't want to be one! I'm okay with being a snob in other aspects. Like about Gucci (won't wear it - I am too snobbish for that). That's okay. But cinematic snobbery is something else entirely. I remember when I went to see Mulholland Drive for the first time. It was only showing at the local arthouse cinema so we had to go there, and the entire screening room filled up with film students (bundled up in studenty-type clothes, ie, very long coats and very big scarves) and then the students took notes all the way through the film. It was kind of amusing because the screening room rapidly became very hot due to all the eager scribbling and then the students all went a kind of boiled-lobster colour but would not remove their student-coats and scarves. Oh, what was I talking about? Yeah. Okay, I remember. But you see, the thing is, I think I'm a cinema snob. I don't mind movies with subtitles. I can cheerfully converse on the topic of Bunuel v. Truffaut. And I'd rather wear Gucci in public than go see a movie starring Adam Sandler.

The evidence is indeed damning.

Pssh. I'm so irritating. Full of hokey little phrases and words that I dig out of obscure parts of the dictionary (I love working the word "verisimilitudinous" into every day conversation and have managed it on several occasions... of course it was completely out of place on all of those occasions but that's irrelevant). I also overuse the word "audacity" but that's a cool word. I love it. Delivered in a high-pitched gasp... oh, it's perfect.

For a critic that first step is the first printed joke. It gets a laugh and a whole new world opens up. He makes another joke, and another. And then one day along comes a joke that shouldn't be made because the show he's reviewing is a good show. But, as it so happens, it's a good joke. And you know what? The joke wins.

My problem exactly. Oh, that's a movie quote! From Please Don't Eat The Daisies. Please, British Film Commander People, undelete it! Resurrect it! Do whatever the hell it is that you need to do to get it back on video! Or just show it on BBC 2 some time, that would be okay.

At least they didn't delete The Thrill Of It All - Zasu Pitts is in that one, y'know. Along with Doris. Of course. Doris. I love Doris. I actually have a picture of Zasu Pitts as my desktop wallpapery thing right now - I didn't mean to put it there but clicked the wrong button. It's kind of scary. Especially since the wallpaper is set to Stretch. She's stretched across the screen, clutching... something, standing in a room that scares me almost as much as Zasu herself. Zasu. It's a great name. She's that flappy one, you know, ridiculously femmey, rolls her eyes a lot, flutters her fingers around... they based Popeye's girlfriend on her. Olive Oyl. See, this is the picture on my desktop:

Now imagine it stretched sideways across the screen. Spine-chilling isn't it? I think it's from that film, The Wedding March, but I'm most likely wrong about that.

"I often wonder whether men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then." Hehe, Katharine Hepburn said that, I just wanted to put it in. It tickled me - as it were. Jesus, Katharine Hepburn, how old is she now? Ninety-five? I just love her. I really should get more of her films, I barely have any.

Blah. See, I even talk about movies (and only movies. Or movie stars, usually followed by "Omigod, she's so pretty!!! I love herrrrrrr!!!!!!"). Cinema snob. I toldja. And not even a particularly interesting cinema snob.

Someone said something to me today. She said, "With you, I never quite know if you're being sarcastic or not". That pleased me immensely. So. If you aren't sure if I'm being sarcastic or not, well, I'm probably being sarcastic. If you don't think I'm being sarcastic, I'm probably being sarcastic anyway. And if you think I am being sarcastic, you're most likely right - unless it's one of the occasions when I'm not, in which case you are wrong. I'm glad I cleared that up.

I took a test today to find out what my subconscious personality and entire life was secretly driven by. It was a very long test. Looking at ink blots. It took about half-an-hour (okay, I was doing other stuff at the same time, but still) and then I found out that Yay Congratulations Kitty, You Are Driven By Love!

I guess it must be very subconscious.

You know, Katharine Hepburn has a star on the Walk Of Fame. 6288 Hollywood Blvd. PATSY KELLY!!!! has one too, at 6669 Hollywood Blvd. I'm going to go there, and find Patsy's star, and lick it. Ew, actually I'm not, I might lick up someone's old gum. Or worse. But I will go see it and take a picture of me next to it or something and then look smug and say, "Look, everyone, I looked at this star on a road, don't you wish you were me?" Wow. God. I can't wait. I really am going to do that.

It would be so cool to be an usher in a theatre on Broadway. I wonder how you get to do that? Maybe just show up and look pretty and say, "Can I be an usher?" I don't know. I also want to be a croupier. I want to do lots of things and have burning passions for all of them, and to be honest some of them are pretty weird.

Alrighty I'm done. Have a good night, everyone, don't get too drunk. Well, do, if you want. Take the gin, leave the tonic, gin's the best tonic, oh, yeah. I love plagiarising. Who was it that said about that "the only 'ism' in Hollywood is 'plagiarism'"? I have a feeling it was Dorothy Parker. Quoting people is fun. The thing about "gin's the best tonic" was something Patsy Kelly said, by the way, as are most of the things I quote and don't leave a name for. I figure I mention her enough as it is.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-13T16:13:00.000Z

Souviens-toi de l'oublier...

Okay, I listened to Catherine Deneuve's album. It's HILARIOUS!!! The best song on it is called "Epsilon" and it's so funny. It's really disco-ey and eighties and it goes kind of like this:

Singing People: Epsilon, EPSILON!!
Catherine: Something something something BEAVER!
Singing People: Epsilon, EPSILON!!
Catherine: La la la la d'oh.
Singing People: Epsilon, EPSILON!!
Catherine: Something something something DIVA!
Singing People: Epsilon, EPSILON!!
Catherine: La la la. D'oh.

At least that's my take on it. The second best one is "Monna Vanna et Miss Duncan" where the people go "Hey, Monna Vanna!" in the background. It's kind of funny when they go "Hey, Monna Vanna!" and Catherine goes, "Psssh! Je ne suis pas Monna Vanna!" If I ever meet Catherine Deneuve I'll go up to her and sing, "Hey, Catherine lala!" to the tune of it (because "Deneuve" really don't fit) and then she'll be like, "Pssssh! Je ne suis pas Catherine." And then she will turn pale and shriek, "Mon eighties disco album! Sacre bleu!" and run screaming away.

Here, buy Catherine Deneuve's 80s disco album, "Souviens-toi de m'oublier"!

Alors, Catherine Deneuve. Merci pour la musique. La musique de la disco 80s. Je ris, mais je vous aime.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-13T12:56:00.000Z

More movies, again, because I love them

Also, lists are fun. So I'm doing more, seeing as how you did.

I Could Eat A Can Of Kodak And Puke A Better Movie, But For Some Reason I Still Own It

American Pie
There's Something About Mary
3000 Miles To Graceland
The Monkey's Mask
Satisfaction
The Shrink Is In

Okay, What The Hell Just Happened? (Movies That Are Too Weird Even For Me)

The Hotel New Hampshire
La Belle Et La Bete
From Hell It Came (was not concentrating and then a giant tree stump started trying to kill people)

Movies That Make Me Wiggle Uncomfortably

The Discreet Charm Of The Bourgeoisie
Sister, My Sister
Welcome To The Dollhouse
Clockwatchers

Movies I Own That Have Great Reputations, But I Haven't Watched Them Yet

8 1/2
Don't Look Now
Romeo & Juliet
Trees Lounge

Pure Evil On Celluloid

The Fox
Ace Ventura, Pet Detective (why did they make it? Why? WHY??)
Chasing Amy (it's not evil, but I think it is. I hate it.)

Enough! STOP THE MADNESS! I'm going to go and faint now. Okay, I'm back, and have come to the conclusion that I watch far too many movies. I should take a picture of my room for everyone. There's a line of videos all around the wall because I have nowhere else to put them. I don't know when I got so many. Just one day I organised them into alphabetical order and then they were Mighty.

I should be going to the post office right about now but my hair is still wet. It's raining so I shouldn't really be too bothered about that. Damn. I wish I could drive. God, I so hope I pass my test first time. I never failed anything yet but I think this might be the first thing. I'm terrible at driving.

Well okay... I'm such a movie-head. Hehehe. That reminds me of something... anyway. I can't stop sneezing! I sneeze all the time, well, a lot of the time anyway.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-12T16:03:00.000Z

Yes, yes, Nanette

I'm kind of worried about my sister lately. She's kind of moody and always seems bored, but she never wants to do anything, and she's never interested in anything. Maybe it's just because she's 16, or maybe it's just the kind of person she is or something, but I'm worried anyway. How can someone not like anything?

Oooohhh they showed Dead Ringer today on Channel 4. What could be better than two Bette Davis'? Okay, well, I can think of a couple of things better, but none of them were on my TV this afternoon (but maybe some of them will be on later, after the watershed?).

Mmmm. I love my bedroom. Especially at this time of day. It's not quite sunset yet but it's getting there, and everything just looks so lovely. My bedroom is absolutely perfectly neat. I have to have everything just so... it gives me a sense of enormous satisfaction. Right angles and symmetry, and pencil drawings of Marilyn Monroe. Actually, my room isn't exactly perfect - there's still no furniture, and the pictures aren't up on the walls. Most of them are in storage, but the Marilyn Monroe one is framed and leaning against the wall, and then there's a big print of Audrey Hepburn that's resting on top of the piano. Having a piano in your bedroom has to be the best thing anyone could ever do. Mine looks a bit scraggly at the moment... a jet-black glossy piano is wonderful, but it gets fingerprinty so easily. I need to polish it but I don't have any polish... I'm doing well. Oh, I'll figure it out.

Today I'm just so laid-back I could limbo. I mean, I'm one second away from calling people "dude". I'm listening to "Son Of A Preacher Man", that might have something to do with it. I love this song. You know when everything is just perfect and beautiful and keeps going right? That's how I feel today. Actually I feel like that most days... maybe I'm just lucky. Jesus, I love my life, and I'm not even on any artificial stimulants.

Earlier I made a Top 10 Movies list. Now I'm putting my Top 10 Movies That I Love, But Should Not Admit To It.

1. Showgirls
2. My Best Friend's Wedding
3. Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?
4. Wild Things
5. Single White Female
6. Torch Song (with Raquel Welch and Laura Innes)
7. Up The Down Staircase
8. Masters Of The Universe
9. Alien: Resurrection
10. The Mexican

For some reason, that list was a lot easier to make. Lists are fun!

On the windowsill next to me there is a heap of CDs, which is kind of funny because I don't have too many CDs. I'm one of those illegal people, you know. It's quite a mixture. I'm telling you what they are just because I don't feel like moving and this gives me an excuse to keep on typing and sitting here. Nice... pretty. Oh. Yes, the CDs. The top one is, oh my God, haha, it's Catherine Deneuve's album, Souviens-Toi De M'Oublier, which I really must get round to listening to. I've listened to one of the tracks but not all. In the picture of her on the front she has huge hair. The track I've listened to is, surprisingly, disco. Eighties disco. ...I'm leaving that one up to you. The next one down is The Legend Of Billie Holiday. Then under that it's, uh, Driving Test Success - it must have worked because I passed my theory. I'm listening to the Catherine Deneuve album now actually. A track called "Monna Vanna et Miss Duncan". Catherine is just talking in a kind of fake-sexy way, in French, and some people in the background are going "Hey, Monna Vanna" over and over. It's quite funny. Under the driving test CD is a Saint-Saens CD, it's got Carnival Of The Animals and Symphony No. 3 and stuff. And under that it's Dionne Warwick Sings The Bacharach & David Songbook, which I stole from my dad a few weeks ago and he still hasn't noticed. And the bottom one is Peggy Lee's album For Sentimental Reasons. I'm getting really into this Catherine one. Hey, Monna Vanna! It switched tracks. Damnit. Now it's one called "What Tu Dis Qu'est-ce Tu Say" and it's quite funny. She's so melodramatic.

Booooooooooooring. Go away, singing Catherine. I'm listening to "Sixteen Reasons" by Connie Stevens now. Hahaha. You know who's really cool? Dee Dee Sharp. She's a singer from the Days of Yore, well, the 60s anyway, and she sang about mashed potato quite a lot. She sang a song called "Mashed Potato Time" that goes "It's the latest! It's the greatest! Mashed potatooooo!" and she also sang a song called "Gravy (For My Mashed Potatoes)" that sounds a lot like "Mashed Potato Time" and goes "Come on baby! I need gravy! Gimme gimme gimme gimme gravy tonight!" That's the song in Sister Act. Go Dee Dee! She also did a very wonderful version of "Breaking Up Is Hard To Do" that everyone should listen to.

I really must stop writing, I should probably get up and do something but... don't feel like it. Doing nothing is good. Goooooood.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-12T11:39:00.000Z

My Top 10 Movies List. Just for Monkey!

1. Bound
2. The Last Seduction
3. Mulholland Drive
4. The Player
5. Being John Malkovich
6. Gilda
7. Fargo
8. Belle De Jour
9. The Sweet Hereafter
10. All About Eve

I'll have changed my mind about all of this tomorrow.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-11T13:07:00.000Z

What's grey and comes in pints?

Lately, people have been telling me all about me. I haven't asked or anything. They've just said it. I just got told that I have a "demure and quiet demeanor". I've never been described as "demure and quiet" before. Normally people describe me as "that one who talks all the time and calls everyone 'darling'", I'm not sure whether "demure and quiet" is a step up or a step down. Maybe I start off being demure and quiet, and then end up shrieking raucously and telling the "What's grey and comes in pints?" joke. I don't know.

Oh, by the way, Miss Fee - my sister Lili has also been mistaken for a Canadian because of her accent. So don't feel alone.

I threw the giantest hissy fit today. It was kind of funny. I was on the phone with my dad and he was supposed to be booking my driving test and he booked it for the 27th of January, even though I'm not going to be in the country then (hopefully). And so then he phoned to tell me and I got really bitchy and mean at him and then I hung up on him. I am not very nice. But it worked because he phoned up the driving people again and got them to change it to the 2nd January. And then I was nice to him. God. I'm absolutely obnoxious. It's funny though - most of my friends, well, all of them actually, went through a phase where they hated their parents and thought that their parents just didn't understand them at all and they just stayed in their rooms being grumpy. I never did that. I have an odd relationship with my mother. She's not at all motherly. We're more like friends, but not in the mother-daughter-friendy way you see in movies. Back when I was about ten or eleven, and Lili was eight or nine, our parents never did anything. So me and Lili did all the cooking, all the cleaning, all the housework... it was kind of fun. We made great meals, actually. And pudding every night. Now we just eat on the go and keep ourselves pepped up with Coca Cola.

My friend is coming over tonight. I haven't seen her in a while, couple of months I think. But we're going to watch movies, or something, I think. We most likely won't. For some reason whenever she comes to my house, or I go to hers, we just hang out in the bedroom and talk about people we used to go to school with... maybe that's the only thing we have in common these days. I like her a lot, I mean, she's really lovely. But we aren't on the same wavelength. That's okay though, imagine how dull it would be if all your friends were the same.

Oh, I asked Julian about his sister's name (see about four days earlier) and at first he said I was crazy, then he said that Mia was his mother's name for her, and Genevieve was his father's. Funny that he didn't remember that when I asked him before. *sniffs indignantly*

I think "indignant" is my favourite emotion. I'm good at it. I stomp around and sniff a lot and toss my head and act even more melodramatic than usual. The worst emotion has to be... I don't know. Guilt, I think.

You know, someone asked me once if I felt that I was the only one in the world who could possibly feel a certain way about something. I asked her About What? She said, I Don't Know, Things In General. I don't know. I think emotions are pretty much universal, aren't they? But you can have completely unique thoughts about certain things... oh, I don't think I'm saying this at all the way I'm thinking it. I'm not terribly coherent, sometimes.

Well, I'm about done for today. Need to get ready for my driving lesson and also take down my washing. I have pyjamas with sheep on! And last night, in an extremely grown-up and mature way, I spent about an hour naming all the sheep with the help of a green highlighter pen. They're now all named after old movie stars. There's "Tallulah" the sheep, and "Zsa Zsa Gabor" the sheep, and an upside down one that's labelled "Gina Lollobrigida in 'Trapeze'". And now my pyjamas are all covered in green ink. I really am stupid sometimes. I have no idea why I did that. But Lili helped so it's her fault too.

Kitty xxx

PS The answer to the joke is "An elephant".

2002-11-10T16:58:00.000Z

Just something

This is just something to read - nobody apart from me could find it interesting but never mind. And there is nothing wrong with Patsy Kelly in her lingerie! Okay well maybe I see that person's point but... oh I can't help it, I'm warped, apparently. People are probably not supposed to get crushes on Patsy Kelly but I don't care.

K x

2002-11-10T12:56:00.000Z

Shallowness Incarnate

Hmm. Something funny happened. I forgot to write it in my entry yesterday so I'm telling you now. When I was in the furniture shop the bloke there got all chatty (as people do when they are trying to sell you things) and my mum was like, "Yes, we'll take it, she won't even be in the country when it arrives, heh heh heh!" And the bloke said, "Oh, haha! Well, where are you going, my dear?" And I said, "France," and he said, "Why?" and I said, "To learn French, I suppose," and he said, "Oh, you're just wandering around for a while then?" and I said, "Yes." And then he asked where I was originally from and I said York, and he said, "So, where did you get the accent?" Blah. I don't have an accent! When pressed, he said that I sounded like I was from Czechoslovakia - which is odd, because that's basically what my driving instructor thought about my accent. And the lady at the evening class place. All on separate occasions. Why do I sound like I'm from Czechoslovakia? I've never been there or anything, and I'm not remotely Czechoslovakian. I have Polish ancestry, however, which explains the rather weird surname I have (and no I'm not going to share it). Do people just see the surname thing and then imagine that I have an accent? Also I keep getting told I have "Polish cheekbones", I'm not whether that's a compliment, I've met a few Polish people and none of them had unusual cheekbones...

BUT. Later I was online and had written in this, my diary thing, and then I was talking to my friend Charisma when I remembered the accent thing. So I asked her if she thought I had an accent and she said no, she hadn't noticed it. And then she added that her friend Tom had said something about me having a weird accent after he met me. And a slight lisp. Yeah, I kinda knew about the lisp, it's not very big and it's there sometimes but not always, and when I get bored I emphasise it. So I asked her why Tom had been talking about my accent in such detail, after all I've only met him once, and she said that he was asking her if I had a problem with my speech!!!! Oh, my God!!! I sound like I have a problem with my speech!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was freaking out about that all last night. I can't believe people think that about me!! I know it's silly and it's just one person but what if more people think it and just haven't mentioned it because, well, you don't, do you?

Maybe what I should do is just try and wreck my voice a bit more. Take up smoking or something, 80 a day. Or do like Demi Moore and deliberately damage my vocal cords and end up sounding like Janis Joplin, or Louis Armstrong on speed.

It can't be that bad, though, right? Because once me and Lili taped ourselves talking, and when we played it back we couldn't tell who was who sometimes. And she sounds perfectly normal. But it must be quite bad if Tom was asking about it. Oh yuck.

Sorry. I'm really obsessing over this, and for no good reason. I get hung up on things. Lili and my dad lost their tempers with me last night because I kept going on about it and they were saying, "You DON'T have a problem with your speech!" and I was going, "I KNOW, but I SOUND like I do!" and it kept going on like that. Blah blah blah. You'd think that seeing as I have such an icky voice, I'd shut up once in a while.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-09T20:27:00.000Z

I heart my daddy's credit card

I went shopping today! Twice! For furniture. We were supposed to be leaving at 8.15am so I got up all early and then went through to the other part of the house to tell my parents I was ready, and they were still in bed going, "Ahhh, we couldn't be arsed to get up." Then I got whiny and they got up. We were in Harrogate all morning looking for furniture for my bedroom - having just a bed, a piano and a computer is nice, but it's difficult to keep clothes non-wrinkly when they live on the floor - and didn't find anything. Then we went shopping in York and got some stuff so that's okay. I need a bookcase though, for my videos. I want one with nine shelves because on the last count I had 292 videos (some of them are taped ones so they don't count, according to my little database thinger 99 of them are taped. So that's 193 to go on the shelf) and they're all around the edges of the room right now.

Oh but I got clothes too! And hair rollers. And being the impatient Kitty that I am, I put all the hair rollers in in the car, in the dark, and emerged looking not unlike an alien. Or a character from Coronation Street. But let me tell you about my dress... oh, bear with me, I have to. I am very fussy about clothes. Like, in the winter, I will not wear trousers of any description. I just don't like to. In the summer I'm alright with them. But I won't wear denim whatever the season, because I think it's uncouth. But my dress! That's right. It's black and it goes to just below my knees and the top of it is kind of lacy, down to just above my boobs. Some cleavage but not too much, because anyone can show too much cleavage but it takes hours of practising in front of a mirror to be able to get that little bending-forwards thing perfectly right, where you just show a teeny little bit. Wow. I'm so empowered. I practise my cleavage-bend moves. Okay, well I don't now, but I used to when I was about 14 and it worked. I also used to put lots of mirrors everywhere so that I didn't ever slouch. Hmm. I think the sizes in that shop are messed up, though. It was Laura Ashley. Everyone hates me now. Yes, it's a Laura Ashley dress, shut up, one day you'll do it too! But I tried on the 10 and the 8 and they were both kind of big, but the 8 was better. Jesus. Size 8. I'm not supposed to be a size 8! I'm meant to be growing curves! In American that's a 4, and nobody should ever be a size 4 because... it's bad. I tried it on with my bra still on and with black socks on and the shop lady was like, "Hmm..." and I was kind of wiggling my black-socky feet and going, "It's GORGEOUS. Brings out my legs" and she was like "Well, you could maybe say it's a fashion statement?"

My feet hurt. I wear heels. Always. Have done since I was about eleven so you'd have thought that by now my feet would be moulded into shape, but apparently they aren't. Although I have been wearing four inch heels for about twelve hours now, and walking a lot (compared to my normal daily walking level... ie, none), so I guess that can be my excuse. I drove in them, too. You're probably not supposed to drive in heels but I don't actually own any flat shoes so there's not much I can do about it. I was practising driving so I drove to the furniture shop. My dad has a new car and he kind of wanted to drive his, but then he was like, "Oh, fine, practise". Actually, my mum has a new car too. It happened that they got them at the same time. The neighbours must think we're weird. My car's the best, though. The Kittymobile.

It's so nice tonight. All cold and foggy and outside it smells like burning... you know what I mean, right? And there are still people letting off fireworks. I actually managed to see a couple today. I've missed most of them. Last year, me and my sister went to sit on this bridge down the street from our house, you get the best view from there. Can see everything. But this year she said that fireworks were too loud and she wouldn't go. She also said, "Why don't you go on your own, with the dog?" So we sat at home with the curtains closed and ate mashed potato.

Well. I talked too much, as usual, ooo fireworks. Okay, I'm going, bye!

Kitty xxx

2002-11-08T14:26:00.000Z

Sigh. I should update less frequently.

I did my thing. And then I found out it didn't actually take up much time, so I decided to come and share some pictures of PATSY KELLY!!!! with you. Yay!!!!!

That's Patsy and Thelma Todd. Patsy's the brunette in case you didn't know. Oh and here's Patsy and Thelma Todd again:

I'm getting that picture for my room! Yay! It looks a bit like a lesbian wedding, don't it? Here's the bestest picture of all:

Hee! I love that! The other two broads are all feminine and have their glossy legs crossed all neatly as they are perched delicately on the weird fairground horsey things... aww, but Patsy's such a little butch. *draws hearts on computer screen*

Jesus, I need to get a life. I really do. Anyway I'm not exactly sure why I came back online, I have to be somewhere at 3pm and it's half past two now and I'm just sitting here so I'd better go. Patsy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Woo!!!!!!! Yay!!!!!!!!! Houpla!!!!!!!!!!

Kitty xxx

2002-11-08T12:35:00.000Z

Today, Kitty is feeling... musical. So you should stay well away.

I sing way too much. I do. But it's fun! So I'm going to keep doing it... forEVER. Muahahahaha. Today I wrote a whole letter in French (avec the help of my mother, who luckily is fluent in French and therefore pretty much dictated the whole thing). I have to write to the syndicat d'initiative in all the cities I might want to go to in France, and ask them what kind of jobs I might be able to get, and details on places to live, all that kind of fun stuff. My list of Cities I Want To Go To is getting longer by the day. Still, never mind. I'll figure it out. I'm going in January!! And I'm scared. A week in Paris, first, just because Paris is fantastic in the winter, then off to my Chosen City to get all sorted out and move in. My mum's coming with me at first. Just to make sure I'm not living in the street or anything. And then she leaves and it's just me, all alone in France. I hope I'm still going to get to go online because otherwise I will just lose all my ties with everyone I know... phones suck. And I'm terrible at writing back in snail-mail.

Alright, so, I have this friend online whom I've known since about March or April this year. He's called Julian. Anyway he's very kind of pretentious and stuff, don't think he exactly knows that he's doing it, he finishes most of his sentences with "sublime" or "divine" and stuff... actually I do that too, but whatever. Anyway. That's beside the point. He's pretty nice. But a while back he was on about his sister's wedding and saying about how she had a "sublime" dress (went on to describe it as 80s... okay...) and I asked what she was called and he said that her name is Mia-Rose. Anyway the other day I was talking to him and he mentioned his sister and I couldn't remember her name so I asked and this time he said that she was called Genevieve. I kinda remembered the "Rose" part so I asked him if he had any other sisters or anything, and he didn't, and if she was the one who got married, and she was, and I asked him if she ever changed her name and he was like "Umm.... no... you're crazy". It bugged me so I looked up the old email and it says, "my sister's name is Mia-Rose"! So if he lied about that do you think he's lying about all the other stuff? Maybe I should call him on it. I think I might, next time I see him. Just to find out what he's on about. What the hay, it doesn't really matter, I'm just being all weird about it for no good reason.

I love Fridays. On Fridays Roger Ebert has all new reviews up at his site. Yes, I know, I should get out more, but it's raining! I can't go out in the rain. My hair would go all soggy and blech. Ooh, look, he has a review of that movie with Kristin Minter. Randi from ER. He gave it three stars! Go Randi! Actually he gives quite a lot of movies 3 stars.

Anyway this isn't quite as long and waffly as usual, I actually do have something to do (!!!!!!) so I'd better go and do it.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-07T08:50:00.000Z

Today, everything reminds me of ice-cream. Mm, vanilla!

Oh, my goodness. I just looked on the IMDb poll and I'm still cracking up. Today's poll is "Of all the dramatic twists and turns and dresses, what ultimately was missing from the Winona Ryder trial?" and here are the choices:

Winona's mom, as portrayed by Cher
Jurors "committing suicide" one by one
Testimony from Richard Gere that she only had six months to live
Prosecution tricks her into saying "Beetlejuice" three times
Prosecutor calling her "Winona Scissorhands"
Under cross examination Martin Scorsese breaks down and confesses that yes, she was miscast in The Age of Innocence
Surprise witness, Angelina Jolie tearfully confesses it was really her, wins Oscar.
Winona's defense team says "witchhunt" sixteen times during summation
Al Pacino makes unexpected appearance, shouts "YOU'RE out of order! YOU'RE out of order! THE WHOLE TRIAL is out of order!"
Winona claims android double from Alien 4 really at Saks that day
Other

It's mean. But, hee hee! Sorry. Ignore me.

What's the difference between a journal and a weblog? And which of them applies to my thingy? What the hay. I don't reckon it really matters too much in the end.

Umm, umm, umm. I'm trying to think of something remotely interesting to tell you... but I really can't. I watched about a zillion movies yesterday. Is that interesting? ...Well, no, not at all. I'm so boring when it comes to films. I talk on and on about them with mindless enthusiasm (not always enthusiasm about the movie. Usually just enthusiasm at having watched it and now being able to bitch it out) and never really notice the fact that the person at whom I am directing my monologue has fallen over, with blood coming out of their ears and eyes and nose. Do you think that's what dying of boredom looks like? It might. Or maybe you just kind of melt. Like a Skip! Do they have Skips in other countries?

Let's try out my experiment. I will talk about movies for a while, just blah-blah-blah-ing on about them and we'll see what happens. Yesterday I watched FOUR movies! First of all I watched Suddenly, Last Summer. Then I watched Rosemary's Baby. Then I watched The Other Love. And then finally The Strange Love Of Martha Ivers! Let us start with the first one. I'll do a fake report on it or something, the way you have to review books in English lessons when you're 12. Suddenly, Last Summer is about a weird lady named Katharine Hepburn. Well, it's about a weird lady played by Katharine Hepburn, I think her character is called Violet or something, but screw that. Anyway Katharine Hepburn calls Dr. Montgomery Clift to her house one day and says, "Blah blah blah, BLAH blah blah! Oh, please perform a lobotomy on my niece, Elizabeth Taylor." And Dr. Monty says, "Ooh, well, y'know, people have to be crazy for us to perform lobotomies on them. Or if they aren't, then they just have to be Jack Nicholson." And Katharine gets a bit pissy and talks even faster (she talks in such a good way, doesn't she? I bet she's great at tongue-twisters) and says, "Oh, wellll, she is crazy, crazy I say!" And then she goes, "And by the way, my son is dead. And he was fabulous. This is a shrine to my son. I made my garden into a jungle, but I am not crazy, instead, I am very rich!" And Dr. Monty is all, "Oh, well, alright then." So he goes to see Elizabeth Taylor who rather confusingly is named Catherine in the film, but we'll just forget about that. Elizabeth Taylor puts out her cigarette on a lady's hand for no reason, and seeing as the film is supposed to be about how really she isn't crazy, that's a pretty stupid thing for them to do. But what the hay. She hangs out with Dr. Monty for a while and says, "Really, I'm not crazy." And Dr. Monty's like, "You're very very attractive, aren't you? You must be sane." And Elizabeth is like, "My point exactly!" And then there's this whole storyline about how Katharine's son died and Elizabeth was there but has wiped it from her memory (and Katharine's all, "Well, let's get everything else wiped from her memory! Chop-chop!") and some dark secrets, and Mercedes McCambridge acting all fluttery and wearing a bad hat. And some message about how gay men are bad. Katharine Hepburn is sooooo cool. Out of Katharine Hepburn and Audrey Hepburn, I like her better. My sister likes Audrey more. I have a big picture of Audrey Hepburn in my room, it's balancing on the top of the piano right now. It's a print from Breakfast At Tiffany's and Audrey is looking at me. Heh. Scary.

Moving on! What was the second film again? Oh, yeah, Rosemary's Baby. Before I saw it, people had told me how it was really scary and very terrifying and it changed their lives. It wasn't scary! At all! It was kind of twisted and funny. And Patsy!! "Patsy" is not an adjective, although it sounds like it should be. I think I may use it as one from now on. It means something very good, and very funny. "I heard a patsy joke the other day!" "Oh, that is so not patsy". "Patsy Kelly is completely patsy". You can also have "patsier" and "patsiest". Okay, the word is just annoying me now. It's a silly name. Patsy Kelly used to be called Bridget Sarah Veronica Rose Kelly. All of those are first names! How cool! You know who has a funny name? Meg Ryan. Her original name is "Margaret Mary Emily Anne Hyra" - I don't know why I think that's so funny, except that all of the middle names are kind of short and there are too many of them. Other people have funnier names. Hers really isn't funny. It's not at all patsy. I just kinda like it. Oops, I digressed, I was supposed to be talking about Rosemary's Baby. Oh, whatever, whatever. I'm moving on.

Onto the next movie, which is The Other Love! And has Barbara Stanwyck in. And she's a concert pianist in it. Okay, Barbara's a cool lady and all, but... Barbara. Honey. When you're pretending to play the piano, I'm willing to overlook it if your hands aren't exactly in the right place. But having them in time with the music might be nice. Sorry, I get really bitchy about that kind of thing. Can't help it. The movie itself... weeeellll. It was... alright. Barbara was this concert pianist who was ill and had to stay in a sanatorium up in the mountains, and also had a friend named Celestine who kept eyeing her up. And then Barbara was like, "OH! I will not STAY here any longer!" and left, and got engaged, I think. At least some guy gave her a ring. It was really huge, and actually very tacky. And if she was a concert pianist she wouldn't have wanted it, it would get in the way too much. Except that because she was ill, she wasn't allowed to play piano. I think if she really had been a concert pianist and they hadn't let her play piano, that would have made her illness even worse. But whatever. Anyway, she coughed a few times, and everyone knows what that means.

Finally, The Strange Love Of Martha Ivers. Lizabeth Scott!!! Yay!!! She usedta be Tallulah Bankhead's understudy, you know. In some play. I don't remember its name, something like The Skin Of My Teeth... I'll take a look, hold on a sec... it was The Skin Of Our Teeth. I was close. Anyway, you know how people say that All About Eve was based on Tallulah's life? If that's true, then that means that Lizabeth=Eve. Isn't that nifty? Oh, right, the movie, yeah, okay, well, it was pretty good. It was about Barbara Stanwyck and how she was a heiress, because Barbara-As-A-Child lived with her millionaire aunt Judith Anderson, and Judith was a bitch, so Barbara-As-A-Child hit her on the head with a cane (very unconvincingly, I may add) and Judith died, and then Barbara-As-A-Child made an innocent face and was all, "It wasn't me. It was a big man who came in, hit her on the head and then went galloping away." And then inherited all the money. There's more storyline than that but I can't be arsed to write it down. Oh, and Barbara very obviously looks at Lizabeth's boobs later in the movie. Just thought I'd share. It's not quite as bad as Matthew McConaughey looking at Jodie Foster's boobs in Contact but it's still there. I think she's supposed to be looking at her necklace or something, but not many people wear necklaces there.

Now then! Did you die of boredom? If you did, please describe a) How you died, in detail; b) What it looked like; c) At what stage in the movie-talking you died; and d) Whether it was enjoyable. I hope it was. Have a nice day, darlings.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-05T11:12:00.000Z

"I'm an excellent housekeeper. Every time I get a divorce, I keep the house" - Zsa Zsa Gabor

My video came!!!! One of them, anyway. Rosemary's Baby came today, and according to Blackstar The Strange Love Of Martha Ivers will be here tomorrow... shopping online is so great. You don't have to put on makeup and get dressed up or anything. Except that I put on makeup and get dressed up every day anyway. I guess I'm just that kind of person. Ooh, and Suddenly, Last Summer is on tonight - it's the one where Elizabeth Taylor is in one side of the screen narrating and talking v. jerkily about how this man "ran" "and" "he" "RAN" and then this funny thing happens; she narrates at the same time as talking on the screen, and it sounds like a remix. She goes: "And I!" and her voiceover goes "I" and she says, "I!" and the voiceover says "Then I!" and it goes on like that for a bit, and then she does this really weird scream that sounds a bit like a cat throwing up and going "HHHAAAEEEEELLLLLLGGGGGHHHHH!" I just thought I'd share that with you all. Katharine Hepburn's in it too, but I will not be complaining about her acting. Nope, I won't.

I did this terrible thing. I spent about two hours on this site called Which Is Worse? and I answered pages and pages of questions about which is worse, being eaten alive slowly by man-eating spiders or being chased for hours and finally killed by a deranged psychopath. (I thought the spiders one would be worse.) It's so addictive! Here, you do it. It's fun, in a bad way.

Hm, which is worse, meeting my girlfriend's parents or having her meet mine? I dunno. I've never actually done either, which is odd. But I think that having your girlfriend meet your parents must be worse, what if they dug out a picture of you when you were a baby, and you were naked and in the bath or something? My mother always said that she'd do that if I ever brought a boyfriend home. Well, obviously I'm never going to bring a boyfriend home. But it kind of put me off bringing a girlfriend home too. So I haven't.

I'm not sure about my hair. I'm really not. Sometimes I look and I think, hmm, yeah, it's okay. It's not too bad. And then other times I look and it's just still yellow. And also when it's yellow, it makes my face look pink! I can't be pink. Pink is just wrong. Yellow and pink, lovely, I look like a Battenburg.

Which is worse, being hole-punched to death or eaten alive by the cast of Friends? Ooh, well, I wouldn't mind being eaten alive by the cast of Friends. At least I'd get to meet Courteney, even if she was munching on my ankle at the time. And I'd probably get my picture on the cover of the National Enquirer, wouldn't I? Although the Friends would be even more notorious. Maybe I should eat them instead, then I'd make headlines. I'm not sure if I could eat an entire Matthew Perry in one sitting. He's huge. Jennifer Aniston and Courteney Cox, though; they're just side dishes. Appetisers. Snack-sized.

I just realised that I was writing about eating the cast of Friends. Hee! How very odd.

Anyway. Hope everyone had/is having/will have a v. nice day and lots of rain-shaped candy drops falling out of the sky. That's what someone I know thinks happens in England. She lives in Canada. She wants to come to England though. I hope she doesn't, she will be sorely disappointed.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-04T02:51:00.000Z

"If Clark had one inch less, he'd be the 'Queen of Hollywood'." - Carole Lombard on 'King of Hollywood,' Clark Gable

Hee hee hee. I just went to astro.com to find out lots of intimate things about myself just by telling them what time I was born. Oh, my goodness, it was so wrong! It told me I loved being at one with nature and being outdoors and doing all sorts of sporty things. Pah. Sporty things. That's why they invented cars. And it also said that... umm, I don't remember... oh, that I always had to have lots of friends around me and that I might actually give stuff up just to keep friends. Which is so not me. And it said that relationships (you know, the Relationship kind. Not just friends) were the most important thing in my life. Mmmmmmmmmhmm. And that I would love a job where I had to do hard physical labour (!!!!!). Anyway it was kind of amusing. And so very insightful... shyeah. It got a couple of things right, to be fair, but most of it was completely off. But it was fun. And gave me something to do, which is important, hmm?

I'd unbosom again today, but I can't be arsed and also I can't actually think of anything to unbosom. I love the word "unbosom". Hehehe. It's so funny. I also love being all grown up and mature.

I've been sleeping a lot lately. Eight or nine hours and then sometimes I'm still so tired that I go back to bed later and sleep for three or four hours more. Maybe I'm dying or something. Or maybe I'm just lazy... heh heh.

My cat has become so fat recently. I mean she was always quite fat. Last time she went to the vet both cats got weighed. According to the vet, cats should weigh between four and five kg. That's approximately nine to eleven lbs, or so I think. Anyway the first cat weighed in at 4.35kg (9.59lbs). Then my cat got weighed and was 5.95kg (13.12lbs). Oops. And since then she's absolutely ballooned. She was supposed to be on a diet but when you've got two cats it's difficult! One cat eats all the other one's food. We tried putting her on the Get Thin, You Big Round Cat (or whatever it's called) brand of cat food but she wouldn't eat it. She just got grumpy. I think I might take her to the vet this week and find out how much she weighs now. We don't have a scales in our house, well, apart from a cooking one. It's a matter of principle.

I'm coming around to my hair's way of thinking (ie, "Conditioner... food for my soul! HATS? What hats? They are an abomination.") Okay well maybe not thinking that, exactly, but I'm alright with it now. It's significantly less yellow. And as soon as I get around to going out and buying some more rollers I think everything's going to be just peachy.

Well. I'll see you all soon, have a good day!

Kitty xxx

2002-11-03T08:05:00.000Z

"Sharing", by Kitty

You know, I never used to be such an airhead. Now I'm a stereotypical blonde. It's funny though; I used to be this intense little kid who could read by the time she was one and could converse in French and Latin by the time she was four... I was a complete nightmare. I used to correct the teacher's spelling when I was five. I don't know which it's worse to be, carefully scrutinised Old Kitty or bubble-headed New Kitty. At least now people don't put pressure on me. Back then they did. Always had to know why I did this and what I thought of that, and if I didn't know then they frowned and disapproved. It's kind of nice now. Nobody has expectations because nobody knows anything about any of that. Yuck. Gives me a headache just thinking about it. Look at me, I'm unbosoming! It's something else. You know, I dropped out of school when I was fourteen. All the classes were so boring. I was the type of kid who could spend the whole year yawning at the back of the class and Tip-Exing in her nails and then walk into the final exam and get 98%. That wasn't the reason I dropped out, though. I was kind of school-phobic. They couldn't get me to go in in the mornings, isn't that weird? I wouldn't go and then the secretary would call and say, "Could you please make Kitty come in?" And I still wouldn't go and sometimes it got so bad that one of the teachers would come round to my house and try to persuade me to go, and usually I still wouldn't. Having a high IQ doesn't mean anything - if I really had been all that clever I'd have said I was going to school and then just skived off and gone downtown or something. But, no. So in the end my parents gave up and said, "Fine, you know what, we'll home-educate her", except that they didn't do any edjamacating and so here I am now, no qualifications, no prospects... yechk. But it's my own fault.

There you are! That's my Sharing all done, for today (and probably for the rest of this year, too). I hate Sharing. But see, I'm being good, I'm doing it. That's why I got a weblog, I think. I was going to Share. This is Maggie's fault! She asked why everyone blogged and at first I didn't know, and then it kept bugging me and I remembered - I was going to Share. So, yeah.

Ohh I have something else to Share but this isn't like the other thing. It's more fun, and also more interesting. I went shopping again!!! (If you don't find shopping interesting, please leave - you're banned.) Videos. Duh. They're coming from America so it's probably going to take a while. I got Pigskin Parade (which soooo sounds like some kinky kind of porn, but isn't), Sweet November (the early one with Sandy Dennis), The Girl From Missouri, Pick A Star and don't judge me for this one, finally, Mommie Dearest. Also I got a video for my mummy for Christmas but she sometimes goes online and maybe she might accidentally get into my blog and somehow figure out that it's me even though there's a fake name and everything, and then if she did that she'd know what I got her and it wouldn't be a surprise. So I'm not going to write it down. Although I think that if she actually went to all the effort of getting into my blog, she might as well have just hacked my Amazon account and looked at what I got on there.

It's just about sunrise now. I think it's going to be cold, there's sun and all but it looks cold, you know? Winter is good. I get to wear skirts in winter. In summer I stick to trousers because I just don't tan, I stay that patented shade of Scary British White and frankly I don't like to bare it. But in the winter you can wear tights or stockings or something and it covers up the whiteness and replaces it with the calves that you worked on all summer (ahem... well... okay, maybe I didn't quite work on them all summer but they'll be alright). I have the coolest top though. Sorry. I have to describe my top. I have to. It's sleeveless but that's okay because I have a coat and it's black at the bottom and kind of lacey looking at the top and I love it. It's a Marc Cain. My mummy was a little bit angered with me about it - you see, I kind of put it on her credit card, and it was kind of £200, but you know, I did have permission. But anyway. It goes really well with this skirt I have, it's wrap-around and black and unfortunately it's a size 2 but you know, I can breathe in.

Blech. That whole paragraph. I'm so un-butch. "How can you tell when a femme has an orgasm? She drops her nail file." I'm quite sickeningly girly. I won't go out if my makeup isn't perfect (I haven't actually left the house without any makeup at all since I was fifteen) and if my hair isn't right. I suck. Oh but by the way, my hair has pretty much recovered, in case you were interested. So yay!

Do I exude self-satisfaction? I think I do. You know, my friend-who-I-hate (hereafter known as Archibald... because I really do hate him) and me are both completely self-fixated. We can't have conversations. He's actually worse than me, for once. A lot of the people I talk to are about the same level as me when it comes to egocentric-ness. But Archibald (hee!), he's something else. Any topic you try to bring up, he takes it, twists it into something else and makes it all about him. He never stops talking about himself. When we talk online, sometimes I'll stop writing in the little box thing for a while and then when I look back there's about five lines of him talking about exactly why his website of databases of every different kind of train ever made on the Planet Earth is so important (I'm not making it up. That's his website.) and then about ten lines of him going "Kitty? Hello? Are you there, Kitty? Why aren't you listening to me?" So then I put, "Sorry, I'm here" and he'll put "Ahh, good. As I was saying..." and then talk about the trains some more, for about an hour, and then when he's done with the stupid trains thing he says, "So, how are you?" and I'll say, "I'm fine," and he'll say, "Speaking of which..." and then start telling me about his book of poems that he's been writing since he was fourteen.

Yes, I suck. I really do. I'm a horrible person. But we knew that. And I really hate him! I know, I know, all of you wonderful people will be reading this and having your nice natures affronted by me and going, "How can you say such things about your friend? You are supposed to love your friends and cherish them. And also you are completely boring in exactly the same way as Archibald so it's strange that you are complaining about him. But we, the wonderful people, would never actually say that out loud because we are polite and non-horrible people." Or something. And some of you may also be saying, "I actually think that reading miniscule details about different types of train engine is very interesting", but I'm just not going to go there.

Anyway I really got side-tracked. I wasn't going to write in this, I was actually just checking something on the IMDb (cue Advertising Voice: I love the IMDb. I love it so much I've made it my homepage!) and then I was like, "Hmm, you know what I should do? I should come and write about ME for a while! Because, y'know, I never do THAT!" Hee hee. Anyway. I really must be going. Need to shampoo my less-orange-but-still-not-altogether-pleasing hair. Have a fabulous day everybody...

Kitty xxx

2002-11-02T03:29:00.000Z

My own private rainbow

Re: my piano, yes, I am very very lucky to have it. Something that you should probably know about me is that I am very spoiled. Also I am a brat. I think it's good to be upfront about this kind of thing. We have a piano downstairs and about two months ago my parents got me my very own piano for my bedroom. When my friend Renée found out she was all, "Yay, now you can have kinky sex on it!" I said, "Well, I guess I could but, darling, it's an upright, and the last time I tried that it was just painful". Just thought I'd share. Anyway my piano is so beautiful. It's jet-black. It's so shiny that my whole room is reflected in it. And due to the fact that the only other furniture I have in my bedroom is a table (avec computer... which is where I am now) and a bed, my room is very echoey and creates great acoustics.

Although I love my piano so much, it's causing me a big problem right now. You see, in January I'm supposed to be moving to France. I have no idea what I'm exactly going to do there - probably work in a factory or something which will go right against my hideously-pretentious apple-martini-swilling roots - but the thing is, when I go I have to leave behind my piano. And probably my car, but maybe I'll sell it (my parents aren't too happy about this, they bought it for me all brand-new and shiny and now I'm just up-and-leaving). And my cat. I can talk to my cat on the phone (oh shut up, you do it too) but come on, I get in a horrible mood if I only manage to fit in half-an-hour of piano practice a day and so I have no idea what I'm going to do without it. Well, actually I have a fairly good idea - I'll probably go all screaming and crazy. But I can't take it with me! So what am I going to do???

Maybe I can find a really cheap, beat-up old piano in France or something. People must have them, right? I could probably pick one up for £50 - £100 over here, so it's probably about the same over there... oh, but ugh. I'm such a brat. I really am. Horribly spoiled. Right up there with Cher from Clueless, except that I don't have a revolving wardrobe... or even a wardrobe at all. But that's beside the point.

Sorry. I just got all venty. Sometimes I need to. It's a really big dilemma though, for me. And I know compared to most people I have it v. v. easy and should quit whinging, but... I'm eighteen. I'm allowed. And it's scary to be going to a strange country where the people are all talking in another language and where I won't know anyone and where I won't even have a piano to take it out on.

Ooooooohhhhhh.... the ER spoilers are nasty this week. Guess it was pretty easy to see it coming though. Slightly off-topic but topics suck anyway. I should so get a life and quit reading ER spoilers but what the hay, I don't have a life, and I have to wait about nine years before they show it so I might as well find out what happens... right? Right.

Meh. Aren't I irritating today? Feel free to smack me. Pow! Right in the kisser. Hehehehe. You know that someone has to be extra annoying when they get to the stage when they just want themselves to shut up.

I'm also slightly confusing. I've confused myself. I think I have a split personality or something - that's the Gemini bit coming out again. I love being a Gemini. It's totally the best star sign. Courteney Cox is a Gemini. Gina Gershon, too. And Angelina Jolie. Other star signs are good too I s'pose, but you know. I like mine. I have a feeling I got hit in the head earlier.

Kitty xxx

2002-11-01T00:20:00.000Z

"To honesty. It's not the best policy, but it's the only way to fly!" -- Patsy Kelly

Hmph. Blogging anonymously is strange. Sometimes I think that it's a good thing - this way I can just write anything and I don't have to worry about people I know offline looking me up and reading everything. But it's not a good thing, really... because I think I act differently on here anyway. I don't know. And it's not like I unbosom lots of deep dark secrets, so maybe I don't need to be anonymous. Or something. Confusing!

It's just turned to November (five minutes ago) but it's still too hot in here. My bedroom gets so boiling hot and the rest of the house stays cold. Nobody knows why that happens, but it happens with any room I stay in for a while. Apparently I exude body heat or something, not the Kathleen Turner movie, just hotness. That's me. The Human Insulation. How queer! Yeah, I just thought I'd share that. A little idiosyncrasy. Honey, I'm full of them.

The poll on the IMDb today was "What attractive, recent actress has also always secretly kind of scared you?" They're really running out of poll ideas. It took me a while to pick between Lara Flynn Boyle, Tara Reid, Calista Flockhart and Rebecca Gayheart. All of them are very very scary. In the end Tara won just because she is so blonde and somehow reminds me of a rabbit, and I don't even know why. However none of them are or could ever be as scary as Mae West... terrifying lady.

Yeah, that was my on-topic Hallowe'en thing for the day, even though Hallowe'en is technically over. Whatever. I don't get dressed up or anything, I'm scary enough as I am.

Ohhhh I love my piano so much! I was in a bad mood because of my hair still, so I played Beethoven's Sonata Pathetique, haha. Anyway. Yes. Three hours today which isn't really enough but I got up late and had to do things like eating and whatever.

I know there was something I was supposed to write in here! I distinctly remember thinking about how I had to write it. I even remember when and where I thought it - about 5pm, in the shower - but I don't remember what it was. Never mind. Maybe something to do with being in the shower.

Oh my! Blackstar shipped one of my videos! Yay! I Shot Andy Warhol. So yay! Oh, I said that already. Well never mind, it's a good thing to say, only three more to go now! ...Well, this is interesting. I'm filling the space up with random nothingness because I'm tryin to remember what I was going to say and I can't.

So... picture of Patsy Kelly, anyone? Oh, go on, you know you want to. And even if you don't, HAHAHA, it's MY blog and I can do that. I'm never going to get over that maniacal omnipotent feeling. Mm, feels like jelly.

See, there she is! About third from the left, making a funny face and looking slightly out of place in the tights and heels. Oh and you see the girl with plaits about two from Patsy? Yeah, that's Judy Garland, just a little bit of trivia. And Betty Grable's in there too. Yep. Simply studded, darling.

Elcch, I'm boring today.

Kitty xxx

2002-10-31T02:11:00.000Z

I know, I know, but...

Okay, so I promised, No More Quizzes. Now I'm totally breaking that promise and bringing you another sparkling insight into my head. Look look!

What is your mental profile?
brought to you by Quizilla

How satisfying. I so want to know what everyone else gets now. If you take it will you email me or put it in a comment or something and say what you got?

Kitty xxx

2002-10-31T00:52:00.000Z

"Clara Bow had 'It.' She probably caught 'It' from receiving too many passes from too many football players." - Susan Hayward

Movies: they're funny things, aren't they? You go and sit in the dark and watch some unnaturally pretty people pretending to be other people. Sometimes the pretty people are pretending to be heroic people, and they blow up things and make things explode. Sometimes they are pretending to fall in love with other pretty people, and you watch them do that and sometimes have pretend sex in front of a camera. It's so voyeuristic. It's odd.

You've Got Mail was on TV today, extolling the virtues of little shops over the terrible chain stores; except that really chain stores aren't that bad, are they? And they always have some really nice man behind them all. Moral of the story: Get AOL! When I watched it, I was thinking that You've Got Mail is really a chain-store kind of movie. Gentle, soothing, completely bland, absolutely nothing there that could cause offence (except for that God-awful New Rachel child from ER... sorry, I just hated her character in ER so much that it's predisposed me to dislike her in anything else she's in, and in this she's singing), and guaranteed to perform solidly. You could even make a recipe. Take one loveable, cutesy romantic-comedy heroine. Take one loveable, cutesy romantic-comedy hero. Create a situation where they're at odds over something but will absolutely end up together by the end of the movie. Sprinkle in New-Rachel. Add an unhealthy dose of chick-flick type music. Fold in lots of product placement. Most important of all - it has to be charming! Except that it's not charming because it's so formulaic, but that's beside the point.

Romantic comedy heroines are so evil. They're sweet and confused, and there's usually a scene in a movie where they've just woken up or they're ill or something so that you see them looking tousled and adorable in their pyjamas, and then they do something like knock over a cup to show you that really, look! They're just like you. Well, like you if you wake up wearing a complete face of perfectly-applied makeup and if your apartment is one of those magical ones where the sun always shines in the window giving everything a golden glow, and if in the end everything always works out just spiffy, with none of those uncomfortable loose ends.

God, I sound so bitter! Like I have a real vengeance against romantic comedy heroines. I don't. Really. There's a couple I like - Julia Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding is one of them, even though she comes complete with the touselly hair and the Gay Best Friend. I just don't really like made-to-measure movies, even though I'm sure they're very lucrative etc.

Ooohhh also about movies, last night I did get round to seeing one of my vast collection that had just been basically keeping the dust off the floor. Wait Until Dark. Audrey Hepburn is so skinny, but in a good way. I am so unbearably jealous. She's all waif-like. I could never be waif-like, I'm way too tall for that. "I'm too tall to be a girl - I'm between a chick and a broad". That's something that Julia Roberts said, by the way, and I'm actually an inch taller than her which is just fantastic. Normally I'm very happy about being tall but today I've barely even touched my piano so I'm stressed, and so today the tallness is making me feel kind of butch and not even my Wonderbra is countering it. Oh, yeah, the movie, I forgot. It's pretty good. Audrey is good. But then she would be. Bitch. Doesn't she have a perfect neck? Double-bitch.

It's okay though, I'm allowed to sound negative and bitter - I'm British. Which means that I'm also allowed to be sarcastic and self-depreciating in that smug kind of way. Yeah. I wish that we weren't getting Euros! I so don't want to be Euronated upon, I really like pounds. They're lovely. They're really big and I think it's nice that different countries have different monies and... is "monies" a word? It is, isn't it? Or did I just make it up? I think it's a word, it's staying, anyway. I just wish that we weren't all getting so generic. And look! I can pretend that I was planning to say all this and that I'm tying it in with my yelling about You've Got Mail which really didn't deserve to get yelled at so much, it's perfectly harmless, and that all the countries getting Euros is equivalent to all the Starbucks stuff... I lost my point. You can figure it out, I think. I'm getting incoherent.

I know this is going to sound really mean, but what the hay, I need my piano and it's too late to be playing because people generally don't appreciate it at around one in the morning. So here goes anyway. If you watch ER, do you remember that time a couple of seasons back where Kerry was having all that stuff with Kim, and her hair was kind of bad? Well... oh I shouldn't say this because I love Kerry. I love love love Kerry. And Laura Innes is beautiful. But in a few episodes around that time, especially the one with the weird lady who said "Every day comes with its own surprises" and a bunch of stuff about leaking sores and a puppet, Kerry's hair made her look uncannily like AOL Connie. "Welcome to ERL".

I was so ranty today! Teehee. I'm happy though. My cat is here and she makes me very happy... oh, stop laughing, not in that way. She's lovely and we have a perfectly healthy relationship. You people suck. Yeah. I'm going to go spend some quality time with my cat. Stop laughing!

Kitty xxx

2002-10-30T00:03:00.000Z

"Charlton Heston: a graduate of the Mount Rushmore school of acting." - Edward G. Robinson

Good morning, everybody, how are you all keeping out there in cyberspace? Hope you're all peachy. I love saying that. "How are you?" "Mmm, peachy!"

Here's a little anecdote for your perusal. My answerphone, right, has this strange outgoing message that I made once. It's me talking in a funny voice and saying something like, "Nobody's here now except for me, the answerphone. So talk to me! Here's the beep." You know, fairly normal. But the problem is that every time my grandma phones and gets the answerphone, she's convinced that it's me, answering the phone and pretending not to be there when I find out it's her. We tell her over and over that it's the answerphone but she just says, "Yes. Right. You told me. Whatevuh." (But in more granny-like speech patterns.) I guess I have to change it. Grandmothers, eh? They're on another plane.

Why do phones and remote controls have the numbers going from the top to the bottom, but calculators have them the other way? That's weird.

Oh, my God, I have to tell you about this dream I had! Okay, yes, I know, other people's dreams are boring as hell. Skip the rest of this paragraph if you don't want to know. It's kind of freaky though. I dreamed that me and my mum were out walking in Cardiff and there was this strange orange glow and lots of people in horse-and-carriages, and the people were all shouting "Rousse!" "Rousse!" "Rousse!" at us. Anyway we went down this street and it was all on fire and so we turned back and went up the other street, and that one was on fire too. And we kept stopping to get drinks and stuff and the whole city was burning around us. Anyway there was a lot more but it's not really important. But then the next day I told my mum about it and she said, "They were shouting 'Rousse'?" and I said, "Yes, you know, rhyming with moose or whatever" and she said, "That's strange because Rhoose airport is in Cardiff and they say it that way". I just thought that was weird. Don't you? Because I had no idea about the airport and... well, yeah. Also this other time, I woke up thinking "phone phone phone phone phone" and then I just lay there for about 30 seconds wondering why I was thinking that, and then my phone started ringing. And it hadn't rung before or anything. I am psychic! Or psycho. That's your call. (I have to quit making these puns! They're terrible.)

Welcome back if you skipped through the dream. I decided not to wait for the Barbara Stanwyck season and to just go ahead and buy The Strange Love Of Martha Ivers. If they do put it on next week I'll be all pissy. And then I'll act snooty and say, "Well, it's nicer to have it in a case. It is." And then I'll do something really strange to take the attention off of that. Lizabeth Scott is in it! She's really cool. I like her hair. I'm putting a picture of her here.

Also I'm putting a picture of the Queen of Spades.

Because the Queen of Spades is, without a doubt, the best playing card. All the others are fairly nondescript (although I do have a soft spot for the three of diamonds. Bless) but the Queen of Spades really stands out. Here's why:

1. The Queen of Spades is a lot prettier than the other Queens. Except on Microsoft card things because they all have the same face there. But usually she looks kind of sallow and interesting.
2. The Queen of Spades is the evil one in the game of Hearts.
3. The Queen of Spades is mentioned in Rebecca which is one of my favourite books. The person says something about the "dark face stared up at me like Jezebel". The Queen of Spades is a symbol of her secret evilness! Go Queen of Spades!
4. Spades are cool, because they look a little bit like someone got a heart and smushed a stick into the top of it and then painted it black. Total teenage angst thing. Hearts are meh, clubs look like little crappy clovers, diamonds... well, if they were actually diamonds that would be different, but they're not. And Queens are cool. Therefore the Queen of Spades is the coolest of all.

Why am I talking about the Queen of Spades? I don't even know. I hope I was convincing though.

Re: Dancer In The Dark; I have decided that I'm on the "it's a good movie" side. Finally. It took me a while but there you are. And I'm also supportive of Bjork's acting. Did anyone else notice that when she sang she acquired a really strong Welsh accent? ...Sorry. It must be just me.

For reasons I have not quite fathomed yet, I am listening to "Viva Las Vegas". Still I guess that's okay. I want to go to Las Vegas and see showgirls, ever since I saw the movie Showgirls. Heeheehee. Also I want to be a croupier, ever since seeing the movie, uh, Croupier. You know, people really have to start coming up with more imaginative movie titles.

I think my hair looks a little bit better!! My driving instructor didn't even notice, anyway. It was all shoved back in a ponytail so that people could see it less. It still looked kind of yellow but maybe that's just because I'm looking at it too much. Lizabeth Scott has cool hair. Maybe I should style mine like that. Hmm, yeah. Lately I've been unable to shake the notion that I was born 70 years too late...

Hmm. I need to pick a movie (or two) to watch tonight. I'm kind of in the mood for Eve's Bayou, that's such a good film. Yah. And, umm... I don't know. I have lots that I haven't watched yet, that I keep meaning to watch but somehow never get round to. Like The Talented Mr. Ripley and stuff. I did a really bad thing with that one. I actually started watching it and then turned it off about halfway through and said, "Oh, well, I'll watch the rest tomorrow" but then I didn't. However, in my defence, it does have Gwyneth Paltrow in it. I can't stand that fake British accent she does in about 98% of all her movies. It's so bad! It really grates. "Oh, h-well, rawwthah." Yechh. Stop it, Gwyneth. Talk American. And also put on some weight because you look like an anorexic bleach-blonde pony (haflinger maybe?). Neener neener neener. (Kitty, aka The Mature One.)

Jesus I wrote too much again. Never mind! You know, whatever! It's all good. I should probably think about getting a job or something, though. But not right now. I'm too busy. I'm listening to "Walk On The Wild Side", it's very time-consuming, you know! "Heeyyy honeehh, take a walk on the wild side" ...and I think that's a good place to stop writing.

Kitty xxx

2002-10-29T02:25:00.000Z

Oh, my Godddd!!!!

Okay, so, I was just messing around and looking around on the internet. As you do. Yes. And I looked in someone's weblog and I WAS IN IT!!!! Here's that person's weblog. And not meaning to sound completely egocentric (oh, who am I kidding, of course I'm meaning to sound egocentric. It's what I do), here's the bit with me. And it says something nice about me!

Um. I just re-read the paragraph I just wrote. I am quite desperately in need of a life. Never mind. Here's me being nonchalant: lalalala. Tralalala. Dooby dooby doo. Hosanna, hey, sanna sanna sanna ho!

Kitty xxx

2002-10-29T01:03:00.000Z

Welllll, that's darnright pretty.

Yesterday was Julia Roberts' birthday! She was 35. I'm putting a picture of her here because a) it's her birthday and it's a nice thing to do, and b) it makes me feel better to see that other people have bad hair too.

Oh my hairrrr. My hairdresser sucks! He did my roots but he did them a different colour from the rest of my hair! So the rest of it is a nice subtle blondey colour and the roots are kind of yellow... ugh. Not quite as yellow as Julia's or anything but pretty damn close! Whinge whinge whinge. And I have to have my driving lesson tomorrow and I just know that my driving instructor is going to get bitchy about it.

Shall I shut up about my hair? That would be good, wouldn't it? Hm. I don't exactly have too many other conversational topics, if you know what I mean. Next time, I'm just going to go bald. That will save me a lot of trouble.

I just was looking in this website about 30s movies. Anyway it listed lots of movies and had pictures of them, and then it went into stars. First off it started with Legends, then Almost Legends, then People You Might Have Heard Of, and then finally Character Actors - and there was Patsy Kelly! Yay!! All the way down in character actors, poor little thing. But she was in quite good company. Look, there's Marjorie Main, Marie Dressler, Spring Byington... hmm, anyone sensing a pattern here?! Here's the site, take a look if you want. If you're interested in that kind of thing.

Alrighty, I'm out, don't want to write too much. After all I did that yesterday and scared the hell out of people with it. Night everyone!

Kitty xxx

2002-10-28T05:16:00.000Z

Endings can be such a disappointment

First off, I want to say that I just spent about HALF AN HOUR writing in this. And then my computer just somehow went back to the page I was looking at before it, and deleted it ALL! If I wasn't such a lady I would be screaming like a sailor right now. However, seeing as it is 4.22 am, I will merely make angry faces that make me look not unlike a sheep.

Now then. Let's get started - again. Well. A year or so ago, there was this film on TV - Desert Gamble. And I had a blank tape, and it had Jennifer Tilly in, so I was all what the hay, alright, I'll tape it. So, I set the video and then the next day I watched it and it was alright and all. And it was coming to the end and getting to the big climaxy bit, and then the tape cut out. I was so pissed off! And I kept asking everyone if they knew what happened at the end because it was really bugging me because after watching all the rest of the film I really wanted to know. Well, nobody knew and anyway, it was on again today and so I taped it over the other one and this time I made sure to watch it while it taped so that I'd finally find out what happened. And the ending sucked! I mean it was a complete ripoff. It was so bland and boring and didn't resolve anything. Don't you hate it when that happens?

I still hate my hair, by the way. I can't look at it. Tomorrow I'm going to wash my hair about six times and see if it fades at all. If it doesn't I think I'm going to go and get it done again - at a different hairdresser!

On the upside, they're putting on a load of Barbara Stanwyck films next week! Not this week coming, the one after. All I know for sure is that they're showing Escape To Burma and The Other Love. I love Barbara Stanwyck. She's so cool, in a heart-chillingly terrifying way. I hope they show that lesbiany one with the cats, Walk On The Wild Side, the one with Capucine in. And The Strange Love Of Martha Ivers. And that one where Barbara throws the scissors at Judith Anderson: The Furies. I think I already have a few films with Barbara Stanwyck in. I have this cool little doodah on my computer where I just type in the name of the actress and it tells me all the videos I have with them in. Look look:

Search: Barbara Stanwyck Results: [3]

Lady Eve, The
Maverick Queen, The
Violent Men, The

Only three? Damn. I could do so much better. I'm sure I had another one, where she was dashing around on a horse and then she threw this disabled man's crutches into a fire and left him to burn with an evil laugh. Oh, no, wait, that's The Violent Men. In the other one she was just dashing around on a horse. Blowing Wild, that's it!

"Capucine" is such a cool name. I wish I was called it. Never mind, look what I can do! *stands on one leg, impressively* Mmph. Yep. Ain't it a lulu? It's just fabulous.

I so want to be washing my hair right now, but I can't because it's 4.30am and people would get woken up by the noise of the shower. And even if the sound of the water didn't wake them, the sound of me singing definitely would. I like to sing "The Lady Is A Tramp" in the shower, at least this week I do. Except that my hair makes me think that I look like Doris Day, so I can't sing that. Doris wouldn't! I sing "Secret Love" instead. Hee. I just love Calamity Jane, don't you? I actually am quite like Doris Day, underneath. If people leave me alone I do this weird thing - I start humming, then I put on an apron and start tidying up. Humming all the time in this really cutesy, happy way, and occasionally looking out of the window and going, "Ooh, look, birdies!" If that were a movie, after that I would grab an axe and go and kill people, because it would mean I was crazy. Unless it was a Doris Day movie, then it would just be on par.

I'm supposed to be all wonderful and empowered, but underneath I am not. I secretly want to be a housewife. Not one for a man, I want to be one for a lady. Is it okay to want to be a housewife if it's for a lady? I mean does it make it any better? I know I wouldn't actually ever do it, because me and the lady would get bored, and she wouldn't like not being allowed to touch the fridge, and I wouldn't like her, well, touching the fridge, but it doesn't stop me from surreptitiously daydreaming about it. I also read this book I have - The Home Book. It's very old and it's falling apart, and it has drawings of ladies in dresses and heels and they are vacuuming, and it tells you how to deal with the maid and how to be a perfect wife and stuff. I'm so damn... 1950s.

Look, it's a quote from a Barbara Stanwyck movie (Ladies Of Leisure):

Bill: Ever done any posing before?
Kay: I'm always posing.
Bill: How do you spend your nights?
Kay: Re-posing.

Mercy. Couldn't ya die?

Hey, do you want to hear about the videos I'm getting. Hah! No, you don't, but I'm going to tell you anyway! *evil laugh, a la crutch burning Barbara* Rosemary's Baby (aging Patsy the witch, kiss-kiss-kiss), I Shot Andy Warhol and Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? The last one has Sandy Dennis in. She's so cute. I love her voice! I'm sure I've said that before. But y'know, she's like comfort viewing. Chocolate for the eyes. Eww, that brings up a disgusting mental image. You know, once, I was talking to someone and he said something about getting soap in his eye, and for some reason, out of nowhere, this picture of him came into my head and in it he was getting soap in his eye, but it wasn't foam, it was a big bar of it. Now whenever people touch on the subject I remember that. Yeah, I just thought I'd share.

What's wrong with me? Doris Day wouldn't have weird thoughts like that. She would have nice thoughts, about kittens, and the kittens in her thoughts most definitely would not have bars of soap in their eyes. Oh, now look what I'm thinking about! God. I should write a fan letter to Doris Day and maybe she would send me some nice thoughts in return.

Heh, that's funny, I've written a lot about Doris Day and Barbara Stanwyck today. That's an odd combination. Wouldn't you just love to see them playing a couple in a movie? Lordy-be, I so would. That would be... something else.

You know, I was really sad before I started writing in this, my web diary. Now I am very happy, due to Doris and stuff. I am also sitting in the most distressingly inelegant position. If my ex-headmistress could see me now, she would pass a rock.

I am so damn ladylike.

No, really, I am. I know how to walk with perfect posture, and get out of a car without flashing people (sit, swivel with knees locked together, extend right hand, extend foot, get out. Perfection. Yes, my school was great. When you know how to do that, who needs algebra? Naw, I'm just spoofing ya, I didn't learn that at school. However they did teach us the art of being perfectly silent during Morning Meeting. They taught us it by having us pass a bell all the way around the class without it ringing, except that we all just held the donger and it never rang at all. We were such cheaters). One time, I was in school and I was looking out of the window and there were these two girls from my school in the street outside. One of them was called Elaine and I don't remember the other one's name. Anyway I was just idly watching them and then Elaine shouted, "You are so beastly!" To the other girl, not to me, she probably couldn't see me from the street. I never knew people actually talked like that outside of Famous Five books. ...If this were a lesser web diary I would have followed that up with something like "jolly spiffing old bean, what?", but I will not, because it is too obvious.

It's a good thing I don't fix topics because I'd never stick to them. I always just write whatever the hell comes into my head, even if it is completely weird. I so love my piano. It's nice to me. It compliments me. It's so shiny that I can see myself in it, and in the reflection of me in the piano my hair looks alright. My piano is so kind! It tells me I look pretty! That's why everyone should have a piano. Ego-inflation.

Sometimes I think I am so unoriginal. I have an astounding lack of imagination. But today I'm having lots of thoughts that are all just completely crazy. It must be the hair. You know I can still taste the hairdresser fumes! Hairdresser taste, yuck, icky. Hairdressers must have very unhealthy lungs, but it's probably countered by the wild technicolour thoughts they must have.

I've written a lot. Possibly too much. But what the hay, can't stop now can I? I don't know if I like daylight savings time or not. It's a bit silly, isn't it? What's the point in it? Why don't we just leave the clocks the way they are all year round? Although I did get an extra hour last night, completely out of nowhere. It's so funny that you can just magic up time like that. And then you have that hour all over again. That's the one part of your life that you can relive, maybe. That one hour a year. That should be a movie! Actually I think it was - Groundhog Day! I really hate the other one though, where the clocks go forward an hour and suddenly it's later and you didn't do anything at all. You know, I'm taking this whole clock-changing thing far too seriously.

Does anyone else think I write in this too frequently? And what's more, all my entries are way too generic and bubbly. Hehe. It might make a fun quiz. The Kitty's Weblog Quiz.

1. Kitty is unhappy with:
A. Life, and the futility of it
B. The fact that we live in a violent and warring world
C. The demolition of the rainforests
D. Her hair

2. Kitty frequently writes about:
A. Her political views
B. Important and controversial topics
C. Her innermost feelings
D. How she will simply die if she doesn't watch a movie with Patsy Kelly tapdancing in the next five minutes

3. This webdiary would be a lot better if there was more:
A. Talk of world issues
B. Linkage to sites that might actually be of interest
C. Concise and cutting criticism of the decaying values of society (or if not possible, just more porn)
D. Pictures of Patsy Kelly!!!

4. This webdiary would be a lot better if there was less:
A. Writing, that takes up perfectly good bandwidth
B. Unnecessary chatter
C. Pictures of other people
D. Kitty.

How'd everyone do? Heh, I just took a test to find out what my natural hair colour should be. It should be... wait for this... drum roll... blonde! Oh, my God! How shocked is everyone now? Hands up if you fell off the chair?

I think I might watch Dancer In The Dark again soon. If only to see Catherine Deneuve barking, one more time. Why is she in it? I don't get it. Who was the genius who thought, "Hmm, we need someone to play Bjork's middle-aged, plumpish friend? Ooh, I have just the person!" Well, you know, I guess when I think of Catherine Deneuve, my first thought is "factory worker". Mmhmm. Yeah. I'm still not sure if it's a good or a bad film. Whatever. And anyway, say what you want about singers going into acting, but I wouldn't have wanted to see Britney Spears starring in it.

Yesterday (the 27th) was my lovely friend's birthday. I'd wish him happy birthday on here, but hah, he doesn't read it or even have a clue that it exists, so I will not. This is just to tell everyone else that I'm sending him good vibes.

Um yeah, I really have to stop writing now. This has taken me ages. Granted I was doing a lot of other things at the same time, but still, it's no excuse. Maybe I should get a hamster or something. Or a chipmunk! They have those in a pet shop here, they're really hyper. They so crazy. They fly around all over the place and go in the wheel so fast that sometimes they just cling on and go round and round with the wheel and don't even fall off when it goes upside down. I used to have a hamster. She tried to do that but she was very fat and always fell down again. I didn't really like my hamster much. She was called Chloe. Also I used to have a goldfish called Anastasia. Why do little kids give their pets such long and complicated names?

This was a very long entry, perhaps record-breaking. Goodnight everyone. If you read it all the way through, I hope you are not feeling too suicidal. Here. You win a bubble.

Kitty xxx

2002-10-26T23:25:00.000Z

My Hair 2: More Tales Of The Follicles

Okay. Okay. I'm still all flipping out about it. But it'll be okay.

Things I Need To Remember:

1. I *always* hate my hair on the first day after I get my roots done. And for about a week afterwards. Then I usually don't mind it so much.
2. Hair isn't really that important. (Yeah, whatever, that's just something that bald people say to make themselves feel good.)
3. It does settle down. It does! Jade on Big Brother dyed her hair and it went all disgustingly orange and then in a couple of days it was alright again. So my hair will do the same thing.
4. I probably don't really look like a canary, I just think I do.
5. If all else fails, I can just go and find my hairdresser and torture him for a while. Or buy a wig. Or both.

Oh my hair!!!

I really am going to stop now. Stupid hair. It feels really short. I have gone from having long blonde hair to having mid-length blonde hair that has had 1000 hexes put on it already.

But it's okay. It's okay. My hair is okay. I have a driving lesson on Tuesday, I think I may cancel it because I would be so hung up about my hair that I might hit into a tree or something.

I'm going video shopping. It makes me feel better. I'm doing it online so that nobody has to look at my hair (I even unplugged my webcam... actually I did that about two months ago, it's just been lying there, dead, ever since. I get funny about it) and also because I don't want to go all the way into town. I live out in a village and the nearest town is quite a long way away. Once Lili and I walked into town in the middle of the night. It was quite a while ago and our parents were in bed and we were bored, so we went out and started walking and got caught in a rainstorm and we weren't wearing coats or anything. It took us five hours to get in and back. So that's how far away town is: two and a half hours walking, at a reasonably brisk pace. The rainstorm was fun. And nobody was around so it didn't matter if we looked like crazy people. It didn't last too long though. And then we got to the supermarket which is about a quarter of the way into town and there was this fox in the car park. We thought it was a dog at first, but it was a fox and it wasn't scared of us at all. It just kind of looked at us for a bit, and then continued eating something dead off of the road. Foxes have no social decorum. We were scared of it, though - but we didn't do anything. Just watched it eat the dead thing and then we went one way and the fox went the other way. It was so close though! Maybe three feet away and it didn't care.

I just told a fox story. I was supposed to be telling a video story. My fox story was fabahluss though, so that's okay. My hair will be fine. It will. It will!

Kitty xxx

2002-10-26T16:41:00.000Z

My hair!!!!!

I HATE IT!!!!!! Oh, well, it'll have faded in a couple of weeks, I hope, anyway. Until then I just won't go out. Seeing as I barely go out now, shouldn't make too much difference. But it's HORRIBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kitty xxx

2002-10-26T03:34:00.000Z

Oh! Um. One more thing that I need to share or else the world will implode

Okay so I just watched Dancer In The Dark and... I can't make up my mind. I'd had it on the shelf (well, if I had a shelf. I don't. It's neatly lined up against the wall, alphabetically sorted between Cruel Intentions and Days Of Heaven - never let it be said that I don't have diverse taste) for ages and so I was just like, what the hay, okay, I'll get round to it and watch it. So I did. And I don't know if it's really really good, or absolutely horrifyingly bad. The exact same thing goes for Bjork's performance. She scares me, greatly. Oh, and about Catherine Deneuve? How can she be fifty-seven years old and look like that? (Avoid the obvious answer about her face being all sewn into place. As thingummy said to Barbara Stanwyck, "Let us be crooked but never common". At least I think that's what he said. Ignore the crooked bit. There we are. All making sense.)

I don't know why I had to write that. I just did. It was vitally important - emergent, even. It's, it's a word, I don't know what you're talking about.

Well, I'm glad to have cleared things up.

Kitty xxx

2002-10-26T00:19:00.000Z

Today, I will be grr-ing around

Hair tomorrow! So, yay. But now I'm going to get out my can of bitch spray and engulf everyone in a cloud of hissy-fit.

Do you know how many movies Patsy Kelly has made? According to the IMDb - 68. That's a lot of movies. (And quite impressively, she made fifty-seven of them between 1931 and 1943. That's an average of 4.75 per year - such a busy little bee.) And do you know how many of them you can buy here in the UK? I don't claim to be an expert, but... three. THREE. Out of SIXTY-EIGHT. It's enough to drive me to country music. Can you believe that they even deleted Please Don't Eat The Daisies? Well, they did! I mean, come on, that's a Doris Day movie, you can't delete Doris!

British film people. *shaking head, sadly* How could you? Can't you see that people need Patsy Kelly movies? They are akin to oxygen, for those people. Cough.

Lately I'm about as full of innuendo as a Carry On movie. But mine is better. I hate Carry On movies. Do you think I'm the only British person who abhors Great British Comedy? Yeuchh. It's not funny! Sometimes you get good stuff in the dramas, yeah, now that's okay. When it's more subtle, y'know? But the rest of it just leaves me cold.

Tonight I'm annoying myself, slightly. I seem kind of... forced, maybe? I think that's right. Sigh. I'm just sad about Patsy. I have an absolute fetish about buying videos (seriously, two or three per week, on average) and I want some with her in.

Kitty xxx

2002-10-25T03:28:00.000Z

Now sit, children! And let me give you the subject of the day.

I'm going to reach way back into my archives and update you on a topic that I brought up a while back. Let's see, when was it? August 21st, according to the archives thing. Alrighty. In a nutshell, it was about this girl I know and how I had to come out to her and she was the last person in the world who had no idea I was... sapphically inclined. (Don't you hate it when people say things like that instead of just saying "lesbian"?) Anyway. This is just for anyone who might be interested. Skip through it if you're not - I'll understand, it's not interesting in the slightest. If you are interested, you'll be glad to know that everything is peachy keen. And she keeps telling me how if she had to sleep with a girl, I'd be it. (Think she's going to make an announcement of her own? I'm just funning ya, ignore me. She's not going to announce anything of the sort.)

Moving swiftly on! Oh, I have so much to tell you!* On Saturday I'm getting my hair done, I so can't wait. I haven't had my roots done in... well, in a long time. I'd tell you how long but it would make me sound bad.** It's not really too important, my natural colour is only a couple of shades darker than my fake colour, so it doesn't really show too much... well, it shows a bit. That's why I'm getting it done. And I'm getting it all cut off again, it's too long. It's halfway down my back now, I'm getting it cut to my collarbones and then I'm going to sleep on rollers. I want it done like Bette Davis in All About Eve but less pouffy if you know what I mean. More shiny. And nice! Not that Bette's hair wasn't nice. If it wasn't, I wouldn't want mine done like it. Ya dig?

Jesus, since I started getting all funny over Patsy Kelly, it's played with my speech patterns something awful. I'm sure I never used to start half my sentences with "possibly". And I know I never used to use the word "honey" so frequently. It used to be "darling". "Honey" sometimes, yes, but now it's 90% of the time and poor "darling" has been pushed away somewhere, in one of those drawers where you arrange everything really neatly and then never open, ever. Do other people have drawers like that or is it just me? I get so funny about things like that. Everything has to be so perfectly neat. And at right angles. I love right angles. What really bugs me is when pictures are just a tiny bit off centre in a wall. I stare and stare at it until it drives me half-crazy. I'm not making that up. Swear to God. Also I'm very mathematically minded - which doesn't seem to go with the rest of my personality. I don't get it. It doesn't matter. When I get bored I do huge multiplication sums in my head. It's nice.

My speech is now a complete hybrid. It doesn't matter.

Hey look! This website tells you how to become a stripper! Hm, it's actually very informative. Maybe I should go into stripping. The stripper on this website seems to quite like it. Oh, by the way, there's a nekkid picture of her on the front, so if you don't want to see the naked stripper lady, don't look at the site. "A pretty, well-spoken girl who knows the business will make between $400 to $800 at a topless "gown" club." Goodness me. That's per night! I so want to be a stripper now.

God it's 4.30am. My bed awaits. Empty. Sigh. Never mind, I can sleep in a cool shape now, like a starfish or something. Or like I fell off a building. And I can wiggle around and stuff. Yay! I'm staying up for a bit longer but I'm going to quit writing now. Night everyone.

Kitty xxx

*I really have nothing to say. I'm going to fake it and see if I can make non-interesting things sound good.
**I last got them done in January. That's ten months. Actually almost eleven. It's terrible.

2002-10-24T16:14:00.000Z

Back online! Yay!

Well after all that, my phone line fixed itself. I don't know how. Things tend to do that around me; sometimes my computer does this weird thing where it completely dies and won't switch on at all, and then in a couple of days it's fine again. That's why I don't get things mended. Leave them long enough and they mend themselves.

Anyway, I'm going to write more about ER today. And about this website, just because it's weird, but in a good way. It's about how Kerry Weaver was really raised by lions and it made me laugh. [Jeannie: "These are your parents? Lions?!" (Gets eaten by Kerry's mother)] Read it. Go on. Now. Unless you don't watch ER - oh hell, even if you don't, read it anyway.

Umm. I didn't have much to say really. Just getting all angry about my phone line magically repairing itself - now I have to talk to people again. Naw, I'm just spoofing you, I guess it's okay except that people always phone when I'm asleep. I hate that. Usually I just stay in bed. Sometimes I answer it but not very often. I'm not very fond of phones. Mobile phones are even worse.

Last night I watched - ta-da! - The Man Who Wasn't There. I've decided I'm going to recommend it. Okay, I was just listening to this song and it went "strictly between us, you're cuter than Venus, and what's more you've got arms". Now I can't stop laughing. It's "Love Is Just Around The Corner" by the way. It's crazy! It's bonkers! It's maaaad! Also it's fabulous.

I should probably be going now, I'm not saying anything of use. Why can't I find the damn "I'm A Poached Egg" song? I really want it. It's the one that goes "I'm a mousetrap without a piece of cheese, I'm Vienna without the Viennese, I'm da Vinci without the Mona Lise, when I'm without you" etc etc and I think it's called that. It might not be, but I think it is. I want it so bad. Oh, my God, I don't know how I'm continuing to live without it and I even went through track listings on about 100 CDs (I'm not exaggerating, it took a long time) on amazon.co.uk looking for it and none of them had it. One of them had "Glitter And Be Gay" though, which I kind of want as well.

Well I'll try to think of something more coherent to say, but later. For now I'm going.

Kitty xxx

2002-10-24T00:03:00.000Z

Posting in secret

First off - Catherine Deneuve turned 59 on 22nd October, so happy birthday to her! I'd say it in French but my head hurts and the only French words in my head are naughty.

Now. My computer is dead! Well, that's hyperbolic - my computer is fine. The modem's okay, even. But something is wrong with my phone line and not only do I not have the internet, I can't use the phone. Not that that bothers me too much. I'm not a phone fan. So anyway I might update less for a while because I have to use my mother's computer and I don't like writing in my webdiary on it in case somehow she reads it. It's not that I mind her reading it, I don't say anything terrible, but it's just nice to have something that nobody knows about. So, yes. I thought I'd tell you.

Next up! Last night I watched In Old California; I have to say, I never thought I'd see Patsy Kelly yelling "KEGSY-WEGSEEEHHHHH!" It was an experience, that's for sure. When she said it, it reminded me of that thing they say on AGC. "No longer shopping at the Piggly-Wiggly". Not sure why it did but that's beside the point. She really is lovely, though. Aww! And she shot things! "A straight-shooter - pardon the expression". ...Honey, don't ask.

Ehm. Let's see. I'm not really sure what else to say. My head hurts.

Fous moi le camp!

Damn naughty French words, I probably wrote them wrong anyway. French is fun! Things sound better in French. How bad does "I love you" sound next to "je t'adore!" French is fabulous. Anyway. Have a good night everyone, I'm going to bed - see you soon, hopefully.

Kitty xxx

2002-10-22T02:13:00.000Z

Talk to me, Harry Winston, talk to me!

I have a recurring conversation with one of my friends about names that are good to moan in bed. And names that are bad. We started the whole thing two years ago because she was dating a guy named Frank and tried to moan his name in bed but couldn't, and so we spent about an hour on the phone going, "Ohh, Frank, give it to me!" And cracking up, because really, you can't moan "Frank", can you? (I really want to know if anyone tried it just then. I hope so.) There's quite a long list. I don't remember many of the names but "Oscar" is in there, and I think "Geoffrey".

The reason I mentioned it is because I have a new name to add to the list. Hm. "Patsy" is unmoanable. For me, anyway. I can't do it! It's a perfectly alright name and all that, but not in bed. Names are funny things.

People are reading my blog! That scares me. Before I was all on my own and writing long long long entries about absolutely nothing, and being all jolly but now people actually look at it, even if there are only about four people that do. Maybe people read it before but I only just put the commenter up a few days ago and... well, yes. So, uh, hi, people who are reading this. I don't know why I'm getting all funny about it, duh, it's on the internet, people are probably going to look.

Umm. I'm trying to think of something of interest to tell you. So much pressure. Umm. I watched Say Anything today... is that interesting? No, not really. And also, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (and Jane Russell in that film is giving off a certain vibe... definite signs of sisterhood. And please don't try to tell me that her character and Marilyn's character were supposed to be 100% platonic, shyeah right. Do you remember Marcy and Peppermint Patty... was that her name? Whatever. In Snoopy, or Charlie Brown, or whatever it was called, and Marcy called Peppermint Patty "Sir" all the time? Yeah, I just thought I'd bring that up). Ummmm. I had my driving lesson and reversed around a lot of corners and attempted to clandestinely steal my driving instructor's sandwich (he had a cheese and tomato sandwich on the back seat and I was hungry and when I was supposed to be looking through the rear window, really I was looking at the sandwich). See, that's even less interesting.

I tried to moan "Peppermint Patty" and was successful. Hm. What does that say about me? Kitty and Peppermint Patty! Yeah. Boom boom chicka bamp, chicka wah wah.

You know, I say stuff like that in real life and it makes me sound like one of those dodgy talk-show hosts with the fake satsuma tan and the capped teeth that look kind of greenish under the lights. I think it would be really funny if for one day, just to see what happened, I went around speaking in a lascivious tone and finished every sentence with "if you get my drift, and I think you do".

I'm so going to try that. I am. Really. Maybe tomorrow, I can't now because nobody's awake for me to try it out on. < Raises eyebrow, licks lips > Except for you, if you get my drift, and I think you do.

Oh, GOD, I wrote something naughty about a CARTOON character. Actually some cartoon characters are alright, you know, like Jessica Rabbit. Get me in the frame and I so wouldn't say no, just zip off down the burrow for some animated lovin'.

I can feel everyone judging me right now.

Oh, well, never mind. I'm crazy. But we knew that. Have a good day everyone. :)

Kitty xxx

2002-10-20T16:26:00.000Z

Fiddlesticks and flapdoodle

Oh, my God, this is the funnest quiz ever. Really. The militant feminist quiz. Here's how I did:

I'm getting there. I don't suck, but I've got a ways to go.

Damn. I wanted to be way more militant than that. I'll keep practising eh?

Another thing I found funny is this: The Fine Art Of Being Come Out To: A Straight Person's Guide To Gay Etiquette. I love the bit about if your parents come out to you: "Back when you were born, there were vast areas of the country where the inhabitants had little or no knowledge of homosexuality--or, indeed, one might say, sexuality in any of its forms--and this unfortunate lack of exposure resulted in hundreds, perhaps thousands, of potential queers being railroaded into heterosexuality for the simple reason that they had no idea there was a Plan B. Decades later, women and men across the country are waking up and going 'D'OHHH!!!'" Hee! But yeah, it's all funny. And you never know, it might come in useful some day...

Oh, that's right, I was supposed to be not updating today. Never mind. I forgot.

Today I went shopping! I was trying to buy a bookcase but they didn't have one that I liked. I want a really plain one, black, with lots of shelves. But the ones they have are all arty and have shelves spread out and only about four of them and they're no good. I need it to keep stuff on, not to be all eye-catching and beauteous.

Also I went shopping online. Videos. Again. Black Widow (stop laughing) and In Old California (really, stop laughing. Now).

I like saying "oh" don't you? "Oh". "Oh". Nobody can say it as well as Sandy Dennis. You know that bit in The Fox where she's saying to that girl with the funny nose about how she loves her? Even if you don't, just nod. She says "oh" a lot there, "oh", "oh" and I wish I talked like Sandy Dennis. Then they kiss but they do it in a funny way. I guess it's okay though. I really don't like The Fox except for Sandy Dennis in it. It's a completely evil movie but she's so adorable that she transcends it. Here's a picture of Sandy Dennis in The Fox, oh, and the funny-nosed girl too. I'm really being very uncharitable about the girl's nose.

I should put fewer pictures in my weblog but for some reason I find it really fun. I really like this picture:

I'm not sure why. Just something about it. It's pretty, don't you think? Speaking of pretty...

Ignore the other two people because there's PATSY KELLY!!!!! YEAH! (On the right. There ya have it.)

Look how fickle I am! Last month it was all "Diane Allahgreen, blah blah blah, ohhh, my Gooood, Diane Allahgreen, etc etc". By the way she moved up in the list of People Who Are Good At Hurdling. She used to be number 19. Now she's number 18! Take that, Nicole Ramalalanirina! (I so love that name! Why aren't I called that?)

Tonight The Blair Witch Project is on, I'm probably going to tape it because... I like having more videos. How sad. But I will anyway. I've seen it before but I watched it wrong. You should probably watch it on your own at about 1am. I watched it in a big crowd of people who were throwing things at the screen and laughing.

Mm, I really irritate myself sometimes. I read the archives and... God. I'm so up my own arse! I really am! I'd stop, but I can't. INTERNET QUIZZES! YEAH! Skip through all my billions of results if you so wish.

You Are A Romantic Kisser!

You'll only kiss if the mood is right and if you think you are falling in love.

Some may say you're old fashioned, but when you kiss, you see stars!

One kiss from you, and anyone will be hooked forever.

How Do *You* Kiss?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

You Are a Cybernormal!

You know how to find all the online action.

But you only respond if you have a strong attraction.

You've got to step up, if you want to get down or dirty.

Or you might not get laid again - until you're 30!

Are *You* a Cyberslut?

I'll be damned. You ARE bisexual AFTER all!

You sees "31 Flavors" as the ideal place to work.

You can get unequivocally turned on by eating Cheese 'n Crackers -

taking the little sticks from the wrapper and sliding them into the cheese.

You are definitely a sexual glutton, taking as much as you can ;)

Are *You* Bisexual? Click Here to Find Out!

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

What Planet Are You From?

this quiz was made by The Autist Formerly Known As Tim

Hehe. That was fun. Ish. Oh. Goodbye!

Kitty xxx

2002-10-19T21:10:00.000Z

Because I'm bored.

1. Your name spelled backwards: Fake name? Yttik. Real name? I'm not saying.
2. Where were your parents born? My mother was born in England and my father was born in Wales. Vague? Sorry.
3. What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer? Mp3s, well, let's see. Ella Fitzgerald singing "Mack The Knife."
4. What's your favorite restaurant? I don't think I have a favourite. I'm not a big fan of restaurants in general, the whole premise just seems weird to me. But that's just because I'm a fairly odd person, and also I don't like food. Really. I don't have a favourite food! Isn't that sad?
5. Last time you swam in a pool? Um, god, I must have been fourteen. Then I got my hair blonded up and with it, a phobia of diving into a swimming pool and emerging with gorgeously hued green hair. Mm. Baby.
6. Have you ever been in a school play? I think so. I've also written and directed one. I'm bossy. It's in my nature.
7. How many kids do you want? I don't know. In theory I want twin girls. In practice I'm not even sure if I want kids at all, once I saw the Having-A-Baby video thing and I really don't know if I want to go through that. Oh, my God. Actually I've been talking to Lili a lot on this topic over the last couple of days. I think I would have one if I didn't have to lie on the table all naked and screaming with bits of my body doing things that I don't think they should do.
8. Type of music you dislike most? Garage music. That tippy-tippity-tappy background is irritating. Where's the bassline?
9. Are you registered to vote? I don't know. So, probably not.
10. Do you have cable? No. Grr.
11. Have you ever ridden on a moped? Nope.
12. Ever prank call anybody? Kind of but they weren't exactly prank calls. We used to find it really amusing to call up random numbers and say, "Is Joseph there?" and then the person would say, "No, sorry dear, you must have the wrong number" and we'd say, "Oh, I'm sorry. Goodbye." Which isn't really that pranky or interesting. We got it so wrong, didn't we?
13. Ever get a parking ticket? I haven't even passed my driving test yet.
14. Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving? Yeah, it looks like fun.
15. Furthest place you ever traveled? Greece, I think. I'm not too good with geography.
16. Do you have a garden? Yes, it's really crappy looking though. All weedy and manky.
17. What's your favorite comic strip? No idea. Oh, there's one online that I read actually. Lean On Me. I'm not really a comic strip fan though.
18. Do you really know all the words to your national anthem? Not unless the words are "God save the something Queen, God save the lala Queen, God save the Queeeen".
19. Bath or Shower, morning or night? Baths are better but I haven't had one in ages. Showers, now. Faster, and it makes it a lot easier to shave your legs. (Lesbian in I-Shave-My-Legs Shocker!!)
20. Best movie you've seen in the past month? At the cinema, Insomnia, on video, god, so many to choose from... Mulholland Drive.
21. Favorite pizza topping? Sweetcorn. Or sweetcorn and pineapple, if I'm in that mood.
22. Chips or popcorn? Chips, is that English chips or the American name for crisps? Either, over popcorn. Yuck. Popcorn. It feels like you're eating polystyrene.
23. What color lipstick do you usually wear? Nude, with Vaseline for summer; then I go red in the winter.
24. Have you ever smoked peanut shells? I'm so naive. What the hell?
25. Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? No, but I so want to.
26. Orange Juice or apple? Mmm. Juice. Both. I love juice.
27. Who was the last person you went out to dinner with? God, I can't even remember. Probably my mum. We sometimes go out places.
28. Favorite type chocolate bar? Toffee Crisps? Lions? I don't know.
29. When was the last time you voted at the polls? Never. But don't think it's because I don't want to - I do want to. I only just turned 18 though and I haven't exactly figured out how to do it.
30. Last time you ate a homegrown tomato? Again, never. We don't grow tomatoes. I have eaten homegrown strawberries, apples, carrots, potatoes and probably other stuff too though.
31. Have you ever won a trophy? Yes - I used to be a gymnastics champion.
32. Are you a good cook? Yep. That's what comes from hanging out with a chef for six months.
33. Do you know how to pump your own gas? Yes, I made my driving instructor show me how and he thought I was crazy.
34. Ever order an article from an infomercial? No, but I really want that cleaning stuff that cleans anything in 60 seconds... what? Don't look at me like that!
35. Sprite or 7-up? Yeecchh.
36. Have you ever had to wear a uniform to work? No.
37. Last thing you bought at a pharmacy? A coke.
38. Ever throw up in public? Goodness, no.
39. Would you prefer being a millionaire or find true love? You're going to hate me, but it's got to be the millionaire thing. I can still have non-true love, right?
40. Do you believe in love at first sight? Not really.
41. Ever call a 1-900 number? No.
42. Can ex's be friends? Yes.
43. Who was the last person you visited in a hospital? I've never visited anyone in a hospital.
44. Did you have a lot of hair when you were a baby? Yes, I had a black/auburn afro. Seriously! Then it fell out and grew back in all straight and blonde. Crazy world.
45. What message is on your answering machine? I have no answering machine, sad to say.
46. What's your all time favorite Saturday Night Live Character? They don't show that over here.
47. What was the name of your first pet? Curtain. Don't ask.
48. What is in your purse? Lots of makeup, a collection of cinema tickets, coins that all fall into the bottom of my bag and never get fished out again, car keys, a couple of phone numbers.
49. Favorite thing to do before bedtime? Sit down at my piano and nocturne away.
50. What is one thing you are grateful for today? The knowledge that really, I can do anything I want to do.

You are the ravest of dance parties, a must for the all night rave! Exciting company you make people feel sexy, sensuality and generally ecstatic. You make people feel close, at one with each other but can also make people feel nauseous and anxious. If you spend a lot of time with someone they tend to be hallucinating, they can't see clearly and feel like they are getting carried away with you. When you spend way too much time with people you fuck up their brain, heart and liver. However, after spending a wopping wonderful night with you, the next day people get depressed thinking of you and how much they miss you. They get love sick and don' want to eat, they can't sleep, they feel sore in their muscles and can't concentrate for very long as they dream of when they will spend an exhilarating time with you again on the dance floor at the very next rave party. Fortunately for people, the more they see of you the more they realise how bad you are and eventually they dont see much of you anymore.

Find Out If You Were A Drug, What You Would Be!
quiz by ravenritings

Ecstasy. Heh heh. That's me. < Bette Davis voice > Well, what do you think about that?

Oh, my goodness, I've updated three times today. Three times in one day! I think I'll skip a couple of days now. It would appear that Kitty is life-free.

Why did I just refer to myself in the third person?

Kitty xxx

2002-10-19T18:55:00.000Z

Why be good when being bad is so much fun?

I know this is really wrong of me, and completely un-politically correct, but what the hay. (I say "what the hay" entirely too often. It sounds funny with an English accent.) It can't be just me who finds this picture deliciously amusing, can it?

I have gleeful giggling fits every so often. That invoked one of them.

Mm I have to go. I'll write more later if I can, if not, have a good day :)

Kitty xxx

2002-10-19T02:24:00.000Z

Wrinkles and bones and white hair and diamonds

My, wouldja look at that? I have a comment thingy. Thankyou Maggie!

Now I feel neglected. I have no comments.

Oh, well.

And the reason that I haven't scanned in any pictures of Patsy Kelly yet is that I have a scanner, and a wire that goes from the scanner to the plug thing, but no wire that goes from the scanner to the actual computer. It got lost, somehow. Also so did my printer. I know it was in the spare room, but I looked there yesterday and it was gone. No printer! How did that happen? How queer. I think someone must have given it away.

If you kind of listen to people but don't really concentrate and then all of a sudden start listening, the things they say make no sense. Here are a selection of things that I have heard out of nowhere recently.

My friend Paul: I don't want an internal lesbian friend with burst eyes.
My dad: We are the fish people.
Renée: I love you and your quirky bowel-cleansing ways.
Lili: ...

Well, actually, just pretty much anything that Lili says. She's my sister. I've talked about her before, but maybe not on this page, so that would save you the effort of reading all the archivey bits. Read them anyway. Muahaha.

Anyway I just put that bit because lately not much makes sense to me. I think I'm having An Episode. I keep thinking about other things and being all out of it, and actually I'm kind of doing that now. That's why this entry isn't very coherent, not that my entries ever are... are they called entries, actually? Posts? Intimate letters to strangers?

Oh um. I need to go to bed. G'night.

Kitty xxx

2002-10-18T00:25:00.000Z

"Doh!" moments

Have you ever had a conversation with someone for ages and ages without noticing that you were actually talking at cross-purposes? I'm pretty sure I do this more than most people; it's getting to be a familiarity. You get more and more into it and then suddenly they say something that makes no sense. Then there's that moment where you stare at each other in complete confusion. Then it gets all awkward, sometimes, when you don't know the person too well, and you both try to explain it and laugh. I'm in the middle of one. It's not exactly a conversation - it's online. And... yeah, anyway.

Here, everyone, look at this! That should take your mind off whatever the hell it was I was talking about. I'm going to share some links, just for fun. This one's kind of fun, it's about celebrities and who's a cocaine addict and who's a Friend Of Dorothy and blah blah blah. But it gets clogged up pretty quick so you might not be able to get in. What else. Oh, well, this place has all TV recaps and stuff. Really funny ones about ER. I don't read the other ones because, well, I don't watch the programmes, except for Six Feet Under when it's on. And sometimes Sex And The City but my god, Sarah Jessica Parker's outfits are so bad and her character is such a pain that it gets really annoying sometimes. And finally, go look at the frightened boy if you haven't already. Go! Now!

By the way, about ER, I want Kerry and Randi to get together.

I can do the splits. Just thought I'd share. Also, I can put my right leg behind my head, and the left one almost gets there but not quite... Why am I still single?! (Apart from the obvious reasons. Shut up.)

My new layout RULES. Well it's better than the other one, anyway. It's not that interesting or anything and probably doesn't work in about a billion different browsers, but what the hay, I made it. Me. Kitty. It sucks, so do I, I don't care.

Goodnight, everybody. Goodnight, my love! The tired old moon is descendiiiiiiing... okay, Kitty, sleepy time. Really. (That'll do, Kit. That'll do.)

Kitty xxx

2002-10-17T16:26:00.000Z

Note to everyone:

Scary new layout! Does it look any better? I wrote it by myself, as you can probably tell from the crappiness of it all. Eep. Well, that other one was ugly as Ginger! Yuck.

Kitty xxx

2002-10-17T01:23:00.000Z

"If you're the butch one, why do I have to kill all the cockroaches?"

You know the expression "screaming your head off"? Isn't that horrible? Imagine if someone was screaming and screaming and screaming and then their head actually came off and the person was left lumbering around, arms outstretched, headless. And what if the head kept screaming even when it was detached, and what if there were lots of screaming heads flying around all over the place? I had a thought kind of like this yesterday, with the peanut butter. It's a theme.

Feet are funny, aren't they? I was looking at my feet earlier. They're odd. Feet are strange. They're like hands, but you can't do as much with them and they're all monkey-fied, and also I really need to get a pedicure. My toenails are wearing whitish nail polish, kind of pinky-white. I don't like it. It looks like a disease. It's not as bad as black nail polish though, I hate that on anyone. It makes it look like their fingers have some terrible malady, leprosy maybe?, and are about to drop off. It's horrible. Why do people do it? Unfortunately I tried to bitch about this to one of my friends, Charisma, and as I was saying it she brandished her finger (not the middle one, she is a lady... ish) and showed me that she is one of the Damned. And then I tried to bitch about it to my friend Peter, I mean, I should have been safe there, he is a boy after all, but nope. Another one.

For the good of humanity, don't do it, people!

Sorry. I just really have an aversion to it.

You know what else is funny? Trees. They're so weird. They're really funny-looking. Really huge on top and a teeny little stem to stand them up on. And if they're alive, do they see things? How alive are they? Are they as alive as me? Are they as alive as my cat? Is my cat as alive as me? Life isn't measurable, is it, so trees must be about equally as alive as me. But less aware. I think my cat is probably about as aware as me, but of different things. What are trees aware of? And how do they die? If a tree is still standing there but people say it's dead, how do they know that?

And what about fish? Lord help me. I used to have a goldfish, I wanted to know if he slept so I used to watch him all night. He didn't sleep. And he didn't blink. Sometimes he made long stringy fish-poos though, and sometimes he ate with his little round mouth. In fact sometimes he ate the fish-poos. My fish was disgusting, now that I come to think about it.

Seeing things is funny too. Things are there in front of you and you can see them! Do you think that everyone sees colours the same way? What's blue for me might be totally different for you. We hardly see any colours, really. I wish I could think of other ones but I don't have enough imagination. I can only think of purple and stuff. You know what I mean.

Nowt so queer as folk. I can say that because I am a bona fide Yorkshire lass. Don't quite have the accent but I can fake it, just about. I saw a webpage where they'd written that and then they'd put a translation for American people! Hahahahah. God. I wish they'd start putting translations for English people on American websites. And subtitles on the movies! But we don't need it. We translate for ourselves. Come on, Americans don't really need translations, do they? They can't.

You know Texas? I don't think it really exists. I see it on TV and stuff but I just can't ever really believe in it. Actually I'm fairly sceptical about America in general. Is it really out there? Or is it just a conspiracy? Hmmmmmmmm. America? Shyeah RIGHT! (Ignore this one. Really.)

Why, when I was a little kid, did everyone else complain about the broccoli and I wanted second helpings? That really is a big question.

If homosexuality is a disease, let's all call in queer to work.
'Hello, can't work today. Still queer.'
- Robin Tyler

Imagine if one of the flying screaming heads smashed straight into your head. That would really hurt! And it would be loud! And the screaming head would scream louder and maybe you'd scream too but not too hard in case your own head screamed off.

My "friend" who I really hate, just told me on instant messenger that somebody already thought of the flying screaming heads. Well... feh. Bet they didn't think of scary flying peanut butter. Die, person who thought of screaming heads. Die, hated non-friend. Dieee.

Even if you try to have an original thought somebody has already had it, somewhere. And written it down. And made a smug face about it all. People really suck, you know? Especially my hated non-friend. He's so condescending. Once I lost it with him and called him a condescending prick and then he got all whimpery about it. Half the time he's whining about something, half the time he's talking to me like my age outranks my IQ. Sorry, I just needed to vent. Blah.

I so have to go to bed. Too late for Kitty. Night everyone!

Kitty xxx