Here we go then

1. Chain letters, blogfolks. They’re pretty much an international plague, you know; we have them in France, too, and they also have spelling mistakes. In 1979 I was traumatized by the threat of the Evil Eye if I didn’t it pass on to 13 friends; in 1998 I declined to forward one on, along with my underwear size, in spite of the promise of 5 brand new pair of knickers. There has been countless others, but some friends still haven’t caught on to the fact that I’m not superstitious, and they keep sending them.

2. Memes, blogfolks. Is there such a word anyway? The little paperclip dude from Microsoft word doesn’t think so, and somehow I’ve learnt to trust his judgment.
On the other hand, If you add two acute accents as such: mémés, then it means Grannies, and that’s rather cute.

3. I think I was ‘tagged’ once and I obliged, because I was ill that day. And look! Blogfolks, I’m ill today too, stuck at home coughing and spluttering and feeling sorry for my pyjamad, flat-haired self. So let me valiantly grab 30-something’s mémé, breathe in, and try come up with something. Just because I like her, but don’t tell her that.


Four jobs you've had in your life: err. Youth camp leader. I don’t even like the youth. Clerk in a bank, me in an office with an obsessive hunter. Archivist person in a bank, me in an office with a married guy who wrote me a poem every day. International porn smuggler. Only one of those is a lie.

Four movies you could watch over and over: Delicatessen. All about my mother. Debbie does Dallas. Le père Noèl est une ordure. Only one of those is a lie.

Four places you've lived: much more south than here, then much more north, as well as near a river, and in a cave. Only one of those is a lie.

Four TV shows you love to watch: The L-word. Queer eye for the straight guy. I can’t think of anything else.

Four places you've been on vacation: Barcelona, San Francisco, Skala Eressou, Djerba. It’s all true, and not even remotely interesting.

Four websites you visit daily: Libération, Overheard in new york, as well as various blogs.

Four of your favourite foods: rare steak, tomatoes, rye bread, goat cheese.

Four places you'd rather be: somewhere bigger, wider, warmer, with a breeze and no headache.

Four albums you can't live without: Bebe, Pafuera telarañas(ay ay ay, mujer) ; Camille, Le fil; Placebo, Without you I’m nothing; Noir Désir, Des visages des figures.

Four to pass this mémé along to: well, if they have too much time on their hands or are stuck at home feeling ill, Sortof, Kiera and anyone else who may wish to do so and hasn’t yet, because, well, it’s been around. Good ole mémé.

I think I may have a fever.

Let's run through today together, shall we?

yay!
next Sunday BB1 will be showing part 1 of Sarah Waters’ Fingersmith.

Boo!
I've been a chocolate-eating slob all day. Then I had chips for dinner. Then cake. I'm in a fucking miserable mood, so miserable in fact that I can't be arsed to snap out of it by doing something constructive. Or fun.

yay!
Holidays coming up.

boo!
I'm going to see my mother.

Yay!
Val McDermid. All of her books. Especially the Tony Hill series.

boo!
Spring is over, it's gone stupidly cold again, I guess the cork-lined tights will have to come out for an encore.

That's it, people of blogland. Thank you for stopping by.

I’m back.
I missed you too.

Now, if you’ll be kind enough to bear with me for a minute.

Arse fuck shit shit shit arse fuck fuck fuck fuck!

That felt really good, you know.
(no swearing for a whole week.)

I’m also severely sleep-deprived, so off I go to bed.
I have stories, though.

Real intellectuals play board games part II
Some time ago, some clever American bastard came up with Ghettopoly.

'Pimp up your stable of hos, build crack houses and projects, do a drive-by, get the whole 'hood addicted to crack- collect $50! Only the hustlers with the tightest game will win!'

To ensure that players stay true to the game, player game pieces include: Pimp, Ho, Uzi, Marijuana leaf, a Basket ball and a piece of crack, and of course counterfeit money and two dice.
Apparently the overrated overpriced shop Urban Outfitters carried the game was instantly boycotted by the NAACP. Fair enough. Now in the pipeline are Hiphopoly and Redneckopoly. 'It draws on stereotypes not as means to degrade, but as a medium to bring us together in laughter; if we can't laugh at ourselves, we'll continue to live in blame and bitterness', said the infinitely philanthropic creator of the game.

Personally I would never shell out anything for any board game; Scrabble makes my face go numb and I can't sit in front of Monopoly without going into severe convulsion. Last time was New Year's Eve, 1993; I lasted ten minutes, and was later found racing around in the snow in a tshirt, and that had nothing to do either with the sangria or the funny cigarettes. Really. But where is my point? Oh yes. Here it is, sort of: still I confess that the thought of that game made me chuckle. It's just a funky board game, right? There isn’t much difference between that board game and what is glorified in hip-hop lyrics and music videos, right? Wel, I don't know. Not so sure. What do you think? Would you be upset by Jewnopoly? Asianopoly? Scottishopoly? Gaynopoly? Would I be upset if it were Frenchonopoly instead? Maybe, in true French fashion, I would rant for half a minute, consider educating the ignorant masses for another ten seconds, then just shrug it off.
The truth is, I probably would get upset. I do have a history of getting disproportionally upset by the jolly shovelling of stereotypes about the French. Or about any nationality, in fact. But that's another story altogether. Maybe some other time.

I told you, I never liked board games anyway. I think I'll go back to my original Christmas presents ideas:

A rude cross-stitching kit
The guide to how to shoot rubber bands
My face on a grilled cheese sandwich