alexsarll | I don't know why Beck's so excited, making lesbians scream is *easy*!

Shameless' Fiona, Steve
Look at Tube shambles, decide
Rather get Vic line.

I saw them while en route to Cally Road in order to rendezvous with

missfrancesca (who will later do a very good and apparently unintentional impression of a cobra toying with its prey) and

insecuregoddess (whose shadow is nearly stolen by a cat) for Popstarz. Before we even head out aforementioned pretty ladies start discussing n1pple tassels and I realise that the last decade-plus of my life is in fact the daydream of my 14-year old self.
We find three lovely Rammstein fans with matching faerie wings in the queue, but we were meant to be meeting them anyway so that's OK. Most of the clubs I attend are cottage industries, so it's weird being at a Brand like Popstarz. There's something of the assembly line to it; if a song works once, they'll play it again later. This is fine by me when it's 'Matinee' or 'What You Waiting For?', but grates a little when it's one of the lesser Garbage singles.
All the gay men there appear to have failed auditions for the Scissor Sisters. Ah well.

Watch According to Bex. In spite of opening with Jessica Stevenson and Boyce from Green Wing in bed together, it's not very good. The script isn't the problem, so much as the overall feel; there'll be a good line but the actor will deliver it hammily and then wait for the laugh track. A real shame to see Daisy grown up dull like that. Cunningly, they schedule it after the inexplicable return of My Hero so that it at least looks good my comparison. Still, at least there's going to be a Shaun of the Dead sequel after all.

mzdt had a party in Brentford on Saturday. When I first read Robert Rankin's Brentford books I had no reason to believe Brentford actually existed, and though I have since been corrected on that point, it still felt a little akin to visiting Discworld.

missfrost and I appear to be the first people to arrive who haven't brought children, and for a moment I worry that this is akin to not bringing a bottle, but apparently the party is just running in shifts. Some of them appear to be in princess outfits and one has a red velvet cape which I covet, even though on me it would look more like a handkerchief. I meet various new LJ types and

neil_scott's beard.

cappuccino_kid and I narrowly miss the last train; he decides to head back to the party. With ill-founded confidence in my navigational abilities, I decide to get the bus. I get a bus. It leaves me somewhere in suburbia (retracing my steps on paper the next day, I will learn that I was actually off the edge of the A-Z). Dispirited, I decide to sleep in a bush. I've had better ideas. So instead I decide to establish which way London actually is, and start walking. Those better ideas I mentioned? This was one of them, but only barely. My feet still hurt.

Sunday's the launch of The Mind's Construction. Most of Livejournal attends, as do the second greatest living Englishman, and the man who made the second best album ever. I try not to geek out too horrifically. The only cider they have is organic; I can thus deduce that the industrial chemicals with which normal cider is adulterated are the ones whose primary effect is to stop me wanting to cough my eyeballs off the next day. Still, a fine night.

Current Mood: putting the @rse in narcissist
Current Music: Gett Off - Prince