This was my favourite show when I was a kid.
Travel all over the countryside! Ask the Leyland Brothers!
This was my favourite show when I was a kid.
Travel all over the countryside! Ask the Leyland Brothers!
From: John Davidson [mailto:XXCENSOREDXX@XXCESOREDXX]
Sent: 08 September 2009 05:06
To: Emma Davidson
Subject: RE: MORE MACAROONS!
You could make a million bucks making macarroons like the ones in the email pics, Hotels, restaurantsets all the eating holes roundthe state,muckin fagnificent, mate. Even on the mainland. BUT w.t.f is a macaroon with pig init? IO have never seen macs with tomato etc in them.
I’m glad you told me it was a dog, I thought Hobart had gone through a sex change?
You must admit thise emails make more sense, relative to cost , for sure? My cost is at least $30′00 a month, 360 for the year, if I send you the money yeary the total saving would pay yer fare in two or three years. Nah. you’ld spend the money on a gold lead for the little free-loader.(free-UNloader on the carpet. Though I do remember the attachment I had for my Siamese cat (HYPOLYTE) when Iwas living on my own in Burnie. Also had me hound, Labrador, Sally. Effin idiot but they were good mates
They cot more than you think, when you add it all up. Vets fees, sleeping gear, best of foods. They prolly live better than us?
The Boss, Neree, just got back from African holiday. TODAY SHE GAVE ME A CARD SHE COULDN’T SEND THROUGH THE POST/ oNE ZEBRS READY TO SHOVE ABOUT A HALF YARD OF SNORKEL UP HIS MISS OF CHOICE. She coild be right. The old tarts would have had a heart attack, and some of the blokes a similar event, dying with envy. DISGUSTING!.
Cheers matey. Since when have you ever considered me the’boss’? That’l be the day you disrespectful shitpot.
\I got a pair of socks and a handerchief from the Sal Army. The card said You will be redeemed, for He knows your name.
He has to be pretty bloody good, mate I’ve had a few. Names that is, Johnathon Browne. John Alexander, Michael Patrick Byrne Long story mate. Stopped the law trackin you down. Sidestepped shielas who wanted to sue you for maintenance(maintainance)
etc.etc. Like I said, long stories, mate.
Cheers. Keep yer socks on. Treading in ’stuff’ can be nasty. Luv yer. S’Ted Pa.XXXXXX. 3FOR U 3 FOR PUFFY BUM.
Subject: MORE MACAROONS!
Date: Sun, 6 Sep 2009 18:26:10 +0100
The dog belongs to my other mate Mrs Kipling. Her dog is called Frieda.
This is the same woman who gave us the classic line “mechanical jack rabbit for the clit”
Just a sketch and something to do this evening.
To quote The G.A.: “Maaate, Never give in!”
Today after work at the new place I dropped in on the guy with the Urban Jew-Do Paul Peroni [he of the perfectly balanced bobby pins] and we sat and had a chat about hmmm… concerning the edges of feeling comfortable within yourself… if I can paraphrase the whole thing in a one sentence summary. As a result of a statement I made, Paul said he has to send me this list above from Fischli/Weiss and I decided I should share it with all of you. If you are feeling unhappy and fucked after a week at work, it is probably because you are not living life like the above.
My favourite is number 6 – accept change in inevitable. It is a variation on a theme I like to think about and that it – it can be tough sometimes to change your mind when you are half way through something, but sometimes it is okay just to let it go and do something else.
One of the things I did appreciate when I was in America was the highest level of customer service. Nothing was ever too much for the store assistance and they were never OTT. Unlike the Australian guy in Wild Honey the other day when I had lunch [sliced veal and green sauce, oxtail ossobuco ravioli and vacharin all washed down with a prosecco, clementine and Campari cocktail FYI.] He started to talk to me in posh Double Bay speak “What have WE got planned for the weekend? Are WE doing anything nice?” Urgh drove me insane. He ended up telling me about how he had been “Washing his smalls” on Tuesday…
So back to the customer service. This week I got some new glasses. Well I got two pairs cause I couldn’t decide. I went to this place called Spex In The City on Shorts Gardens in Covent Garden kind of on a whim – but also cause they had a fireplace in there which looked nice. I want to tell the whole world that not only am I so happy that I DO NOT look like I went to Specsavers any more, but I received some of the best customer service I have had in London for a long long time.
Gillian Caplan [FBDO] is the optician at Spex In The City. Horrible website, brilliant independent optician with loads of choice and stuff you don’t see everywhere else. I went in and said that I like wearing glasses and I don’t mind looking like a nerd and that I like things that are quite severe and cartoon character like. Then for as long as I wanted, Gillian was making me try on everything in the shop having a good laugh at all the stuff she thought would fit the description, and of course would be the right shape for my eyes and the prescription. I now know what exactly what my prescription means and all the measurements that go into it.
This is the first pair I got – a Japanese brand called Yellow Plus. I like them cause they look like German lesbian glasses from the 70’s and they look vintage but they weren’t perched on the nose of some woman with a moustache when she carked it [Dead people's clothes yes, but not on my face.] They will look great with satiny evening dresses, fancy hair-dos and pretty things.
These are French and made by Bruno Chaussignand. The Cardinal said they made me look like Nana Mouskouri. Personally, I don’t think that is a bad thing. But I think the first pair I chose were more Nana. This glasses are for when I want to pretend I am a Swiss New Media artist or Danish furniture designer and are for wearing with denim and desert boots.
Anyway – whatever ridiculous stories I concoct in my head to get myself dressed in the morning and justify my face – it cannot be argued that Spex In The City is one of the best independent boutiques in London and the best optician I ever went to. I also told Gillian I would recommend her store and service to everyone I know.
If you do ever drop by, tell her hi from me – but I suspect it won’t be long before I am back getting my sunglasses all changed to prescription lenses cause I know the frames will be in good hands.
Darren Sylvester – Just Death Is True 2006
I lay on the sofa and stared at the ceiling and listened to what seemed like an apology. Was it?
My mind kept wandering with more questions I wanted to ask. He said that I fell silent. I said ‘I didn’t think I should butt in for once.” As it appeared he was trying to apologise.
Well not sorry for what he had done I don’t think – but sorry for how it made me feel. Apparently he thought I was mad with him. But I had another million questions. There was no time. I went through this all once before. I have too many questions. And like VaVaValeria says: I think too much.
And it must be true. A man in a long coat said it to me today on the corner of Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street outside the station there. What is it with that corner? It is skanky. Who are these kind of weird hustlers there now? Two weeks ago there was the man following me down the street. And today. The man. He said “Hello!!” as he walked past. Next thing I knew he had doubled back and was standing next to me at the traffic lights. He said “You look so serious. You think too much. Why are you thinking so hard?” Remember that show ‘Highway To Heaven?’ It was just like that, only it smelled of chip fat from that Greek place on the corner.
And so tonight on the phone, I tried hard not to think so hard. I tried to let the apology be whatever it could be. But I hung up the phone and by the time I reached the kitchen, I had a list of questions trailing after me that I just had to leave like leaves I guess on the pavement. And let them turn into nothing.
P.S. Laser therapy does hurt [but only really quickly] and it is fucking BANGING. My advice is get it done. Results after the first session.
P.S.S. Thank you. You know who you are. Have a nice time and see you for a Flat White soon.
I asked my niece today how many Barbie dolls she has and she said she doesn’t know cause she has so many and she even has more now cause she is taking the old ones of my sister and I back to Devonport with her and she is asking Santa for another one. I feel a bit sad if she is taking the ballerina Barbie of mine that had the crown on her head and the biro moustache because it is kind of assumed in my family due to a medical condition of mine that I will never have a family of my own. It is just an assumption everyone makes but not strictly true. It makes me feel quite barren never the less.
I really want to tell you all about a lunch date today. It was another catalogue of minor disasters which seem to be par for the course here.
PICTURE REMOVED BY REQUEST. But thanks to him not thinking it through properly, all my friends would have checked out what I wrote about him already and seen the picture and wondered what the fuss is about. Oh well. That part, via Facebook, was his own doing.
Then I went out for dinner with a number one buddy [or at least in the top few or at least top dozen.]
Tomorrow is the last day of work before Christmas and it is just a half day. I’m gonna to wear jeans and a Bottega Venetta sweater. Then I will come home and write a blog about my trivial life and incredible fashion sense.
Speaking of which – I did a mini fashion shoot for my blog the other night because it is clear I don’t buy enough American Apparel and Primark stuff.
MY FASHION SHOOT – December 2008 “YELLOW”
Missouri Sweatshirt – Camp Gay
Bruise – Nature
Denim Skirt – GAP
Yellow Tights – Fogal
Tinsel Earrings – Martin Margeila
Music – Them Girls, Zig & Zag
It is the time of year when you are looking your best. It is the time of year when you are able to, as we girls say “WORK A LOOK” with minimum effort and not looking like a wanker. It is also the time of year that you can commit a fashion suicide an realise you will standing alone under the mistletoe drinking mulled wine with tears in your eyes all the way to Auld Lang Syne and every other to the end of infinity.
Essentially, it is the time of year to have a decent coat, beautiful scarf, nice gloves, a woolly hat and proper shoes. If you just wear your NIKE bomber with a raggy doll scarf and some shit beanie from nowheresville you just look as cheap and tatty as the man in a suit on the way to work braving the elements in some grey nylon blousony style jacket affair he got from free at the latest conference in San Fransico about electronic cabling or something. Invest in the coat / scarf / hat / gloves combo and gentlemen you will be looking a million dollars.
It is obvious – a woolly hat [go easy on the pompoms...] – eradicates “bad hair days” or “bad hair lifetimes” if you started balding aged 20. Your face is still cute and fresh – you have just got over the ’seasonal change flu’ and are excited about the prospect of Christmas holidays. Winter hasn’t ground your face into oblivion. You look good.
I walked back from dinner and he said “Some people are just destined to spend their lives single.” I was laughing and crying with snot and tears down my face I begged him to stop and he said that it was just how it is sometimes. I couldn’t even walk any more and cried and said “This year has been so so horrible. Please stop. I can’t bare it.” And kept laughing too. Someone else said I was emotionally incontinent.
My mother called and told me she had read my blog the other day. Before she went on I had to hold the phone away from my ear and shout “No no no please don’t tell me you’ve read it. You can read it if you want but I don’t want to hear what you have to say about it.” Which turned into a big conversation about how on evening at the dinner table she sat their with my sister quoting sections of my diary they found back to me with great hysterics between the two. I was so ashamed. I wanted to die. So it must come as no great surprise then that after that my boundaries on public and private are totally fucked.
I heard some great gossip stories this weekend. I was really laughing hard. I also found some BRILLIANT material for the Sex Attack video.
From: ICDSoft.com [mailto:firstname.lastname@example.org]
Sent: 28 October 2008 21:02
To: XXCENSOREDXX@XXCENSOREDXX.com; XXCENSOREDXX@hotmail.com
Subject: Monthly overtraffic notification for lameatnames.com.
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Today I am totally heavy hearted. I mean – he’s below your league you need a man ‘you’re a prick you were wrong’ stand up for yourself and don’t let yourself be part of the negative problem ‘you’re being an idiot’ so amazing ‘not impressed’ you can make each other happy ‘he won’t make you happy’ i love you ‘you aren’t attractive any more’.
Everyone – I can’t keep up with you – you are driving me crazy! Which way is fucking up?
The answer to that is neither way. Because ultimately, I’m a nihilist.
It’s a dog’s life…
From: John Davidson [mailto:XXCENSOREDXX@hotmail.com]
Sent: 24 August 2008 04:57
To: Emma Davidson
Subject: RE: Your unhappy news.
What a nuisance, for want of a better word. What stupid events has she perptrated to get herself in the dido? Nothing you can do to turn her around? XXCENSOREDXX If you were here in Tas then I could sign over my half of the house, then you could use it as security on a bank loan to create a busines here? Fark knows. Then again you aren’t in a very receptive frame of mind after such bad news.
Keep pecking kid. it ain’t the last job in the world.
Makes me think of Melbourne many years ago. Down to me last 8 bob. Bought a paper and applied to be Salesman for Dalgety’s. Luck would have the Manager, Arthur Pattinson, ask me if I followed the footy. I answered , yes. Carlton. Arthur glowed and sai,”Good I’m a Drector for Carlton. Stood me in good stead for the next 12 years. as you know, or may remember?
Think lucky girl. There’s always a bit of luck around the corner. Like you always say,”what goes around comes around.” Mine is” Think lucky. You’ll be lucky!” Though the golden eagle doesn’t shit too often 0ut of the Lotteries. Strike me lucky. I only want a million to get us started’
See yer kiddo. Chun up and tell t.t.f.themselves.paXXXX
If anyone else was having a bummed out moment, please feel free to take some of my Dad’s advice for yourselves. There is plenty of The G.A.’s vibes to go around.
Dear Ms Chanel
I wanted to write a letter of complaint to you regarding two maquillage products I have purchased from one of your concessions recently, in Selfridges.
Based on the fact that the two ‘rouge a lèvres’ I purchased were similar to a Christian Dior lipstick I had stolen from me a while ago, I felt confident with the assurances from the marketing of your brand with the two colours I walked out of the store with would be more than adequate to mend my broken heart.
However I am bitterly disappointed on the performance of your product. My Christian Dior lipstick in Indian Red, even though was years old had maximum coverage, staying power and an intensity of colour that made all men turn in the street. Both lipsticks I bought from you – Passion and New York Red – are greasy, slippery, bleed and last about 20 minutes before needing another application.
My Christian Dior lipstick was not an impotent monkey dick or a weasley dog’s dick of a product and I am indeed inferring that your products are both those things… in fact… maybe even of lesser standing. I rue the day I decided to choose your product over Yves Saint Laurent – which even if the lipstick had been of equal quality, at least it comes in packaging which makes carrying a compact mirror obsolete.
Going forward I shall never be wearing stands of pearls, linking my C’s as I doodle on notepads while on the phone or considering getting a chin length bob with a tan.
Yours with a bitter fair well
P.S. I’m only bitching about the make up and not the wicked slides I have – they are still rocking!
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