Grmbl

Am I a teenager again?
The moodswings are an indication in any case.

I had a nice day at work, well, as far as days at work go. We had a very bitchy personnel meeting -but I was looking at the carnage from the sidelines- then a reasonable meeting, then some work... Actually, now that I'm starting to think about it, I've been rushing since noon. Rushing to the afternoon meeting, rushing back to the office because I had to make some phonecalls and discuss some things with my colleague and then rushing home to try to be on time to go wallpaper-shopping with my dad and hopefully get to the vet's in time for Soes' check-up.
Unfortunately I wasn't just dealing with my dad. My mother joined us as well, which gave the words "patience" and "frustration" a whole new meaning. I'll thank you not to talk for me to shop assistants, mother. I'm 27 years old, for crying out loud, I'm not an idiot.
A lot of things slowed us down so I didn't make it to the vet. I think Soes is pretty happy about that, given the way she ran away to hide under the sofa when I got out the blue carrier-basket.

Everything and nothing led to the fact that I'm now in an absolutely rotten and sad mood. I'm consoling myself by stuffing my face with crisps. It'll be good to clog my arteries and kick my "gain some weight"-plan into action.

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Dusty

My recent Eurovision obsession has prevented me from mentioning it until now, but did anyone see "the one and only"? And was anyone else suitably impressed with Katy Setterfield, who sung the most amazing Dusty Springfield songs in a most amazing way?
I love Dusty Springfield. Granted, it's not music to listen to when you're feeling a tad down (it's a lot more effective at making you cut your wrists than Evanescence is, actually), but the songs are so heartbreaking, so beautiful. And Dusty's voice is beyond fenomenal.
There, that's a lot of adjectives isn't it. It's more than the Pet Shop Boys get.

The One and Only also reinforced my love for the good old "Classic". Old Cher songs, Lionel Richie, Diana Ross... It's scary how much of these songs I knew without knowing who they were sung by.

Here's some Katy Setterfield, and here's the real thing:

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Terry Wogan?

Who's that again??
Oh no...



I love you, Andre, my Eurovision hero. Bringing us intelligent remarks, snippets from past song contests and yes... if the proof that we are twins (judging by how I could predict the comments you were going to make) was scary at first, now I see it as an honour.
Big smooch!

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Dustin the Turkey

Ireland's 2008 Eurovision entry... (note the Euroqueens booing him as he gets on and off stage), with the fabulous lyrics "where oh where did it all go wrong", "we're sorry for Riverdance" and something about "Terry Wogan's wig".
Dustin also mentions an enormous amount of European countries, but I couldn't hear if Belgium is mentioned (if not, I propose we stage a protest at the Irish embassy while we're protesting at the British one.).



They won't get my 12 points, but I will give them some sympathy points for the lyrics and the amazing Eurotrash beat.

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My embassy!

What do we read on deredactie.be? "During riots in Serbia, protesters threw stones at several embassies including the Belgian embassy (because it was en route to the American one).
Yes, our very own embassy under attack by hooligans, because our government recognised the indepence of Kosovo.

What does the BBC say? "(..apart from the American embassy...) The embassies of the UK, Germany and Turkey and businesses with Western links were also targeted by protesters."
So...where is Belgium?? Eh? Eh?!
Do we not count? Are we invisible? Did they only throw tiny stones at our embassy? Perhaps they did, maybe the protesters were charging past and in their haste some little pebbles were kicked up.
Still, I'm dismayed and angry at the BBC's refusal to include us in the list of victims. I propose we all stage a protest at the British embassy in Brussels. "We demand recognition! We want to be mentioned!" And if they don't apologise we start with economical sanctions. No more mushy peas, no more support for British artists and null points for Eurovision!

Speaking of Eurovision (because yes of course, that should be the main focus of Serbia's political crisis!)... couldn't Kosovo have waited until June to declare independence? The Serbs have three months to calm down... seriously, they do not want to mess with me if they endanger the Contest. Thankfully the EBU is already looking at other locations for the contest... I can sleep peacefully, another potential crisis averted.

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(Tussen haakjes)

Het is dan wel redelijk racistisch van mij, maar ik vind die "Servische" assistentes van Bart Peeters best grappig.
Sorry, Servië.

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More importantly

Today the four-week ordeal is over. My living room is now bench/kennel-free and Soes can wander about freely and sleep fight for her position in the hierarchy in the kitchen with her brother and sister. No more sad little squeaks when I pick her up from the radiator (it's her favourite place) to put her in her cage room, no more cunning plans to get into the kitchen with the other two without me noticing. She's free. Well, free-ish.

I didn't put the thing on Ebay yet ("Belgian pseudo-blogger cat relic, person who sold this was within spitting distance of Katrina from the Waves, Eurovision Queens: start your bidding now!") as Weetniet convinced me to hang onto it "just in case". In case say, one day a puppy wanders into the house and decides to stick around (and become a huge enthusiastic slobbering monster shedding hairs and demanding to be walked), or -more realistically- Soes tears the wrapper in her other knee, or -who knows- for acting out my more adventurous sexual fantasies. I'll have to work on my claustrophobia first, but still... talk about a goal to work towards!

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Eurosong

The Paranoiacs probably brought everyone they knew to the Eurosong studios yesterday which had two consequences: too many (loud) people and a lot of people who'd never seen Eurosong ("this is where the jury sits, it's Marcel Vanthilt and then another guy and a woman"). Funny. But I was not impressed. It could all be an act of course, but they seemed even more arrogant than Di Bono. Which is quite an achievement. "Yeah, we're gonna put a bomb under Eurovision" "Lordi this, Lordi that". Lordi was pop. It was funny. It was good. This song... not so much (hey, and besides Pet Shop Boys, I do like punk music).

Still. The public is always right (Just don't get me started on those two "goodie goodie"-sisters or I'll never shut up).

I wonder why Katrina ("from the Waves" is her surname apparently) has a little escort when she walks the two metres through the crowd to her seat, while Marcel Vanthilt en Kris Wauters manage just fine on their own. What? She won't find the way to the giant glowing platform? They're scared she'll be mugged?
Warskinny was telling to me to say hi to her, or even touch her arm to proclaim my undying lesbian love for her. I was shit-scared. I could just imagine her ranting "someone touched me! Don't touch me, alright? Security! I'll not have this" and then storming off in a huff, leaving her jury seat empty for the rest of the series.
Perhaps she wouldn't have. You never know, she might be a sweetie.

Next week it'll be Eurosong-while-babysitting, but the weeks after that I'm planning to watch everything from the edge of my seat at home again.
(although "on the edge" is an exaggeration since I don't particularly love any of the songs in the running)

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Forty

Went to a colleague's 40th yesterday. Quite fascinating. There was new wave (I just realised 40 is not that immensely far off my own age anymore, so it stands to reason that we'd like some of the same music... scary as that may be), schlagers, little trains of merry people (the kind that make me glare at everyone because I am NOT JOINING IN) and -on a colleague's request for me- even Pet Shop Boys. Of course the dancefloor (which was quite full) cleared completely during PSB and it took the DJ three songs to convince people it was safe to come dancing again.
Long live Pet Shop Boys!
This morning I had to take a lukewarm shower, since apparently something's wrong with the damned water heater again. Last time something was "wrong" with it, it was just me who'd accidentally pulled out the plug (who knew there was a plug just for the upstairs waterheater, surely I'm not to blame), so I'm thinking to check it thoroughly before phoning the landlady this time...
I stood on the scales this morning (something I rarely do) and I've lost weight. I know most women would be thrilled but if I lose a lot more weight I fear I'll start looking like something out of a national geographic documentary. Or "Tante Sidonia". And I hardly have boobs as it is, so they need to be protected, damnit! Note to self: fatten up.
Eurosong time again tonight. I'll be wearing something fuchsia and try not to look too ridiculous.

Oh. And with regards to my last post, yes, I did calm down. And no, I didn't kill anyone.

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Aaargh

I am so fucking angry right now. Livid. Pissed off. I want to shout and scream and throw stuff against the wall. I want to bang the doors and yell at the top of my voice. I want to cry until all the anger is gone and all I can do is curl up somewhere and sleep.

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Kippenvel

Ann Christie (De Roos) op Studio Brussel.
Ja. Daar wordt een mens al eens stil van.

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Reading between the lines

When your co-workers say "oh, you've had your hair cut", and neglect to tell you it does or does not look nice.... the message is clear. Muha.
Still, I don't care because I actually like it.
(In case you're interested it's the return of 14-year-old Piglet's haircut, but somehow it looks a lot more "sophisticated" this time around)

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14th street

Eurosong was nice, I smooched with my personal best friend Katrina (ok, so I stared at her from behind the "catwalk"), I glared at Di Bono (arrogant much?), looked at the tv-recording-people with envy and was actually quite glad with the winner. Not that it matters much, but still.
Today I braved the task of building an Ikea-bookcase and managed to do so without injuries. Well, despite the pieces of fake-pressed-wood that fell off the case when I hammered a nail in right *next to* where it was supposed to go. No-one will notice, I'm sure. Musically I was and am accompanied by Rufus' 14th street. Rufus and Dusty Springfield, a lethal combination if ever there was one.

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World news

Yesterday, the tragic news reached me that "The wiggle wiggle song" is no longer in the running to become Iceland's Eurovision entry. This is a grave travesty of justice and in a perfect world we would not stand for this. There'd be a riot.
Unfortunately this world is flawed, a point further proven by the increasing likelihood of a "McCain/Huckabee" (Huckabee for crying out loud! He who compared queers to animals!)-ticket for the Republican presidential nomination.

Tonight I shall attempt to make the world a brighter place by accompanying Warskinny and Fenriz to the recording of Eurosong. Granted, no-one will pay attention to the people on stage once they notice my radiant personality in the crowd (I'm hoping Katrina will flirt with me -I didn't know she was a lesbian btw-), but that can't be helped.
I'll try not to jump up and down in front of the cameras like the muppet I am (though to be honest I'll probably hide at the first notion of one pointed towards me), but if you were to see me on telly, I'm giving everyone a little wave in my fantasy.
I'd tell you how to recognise me, but I fear that won't be necessary. Have I posted that many photos of myself online in these past years? I can hardly remember any, but I must have done. Yesterday this cute guy came up to me at the WJNH-party and introduced himself as Vlied. Vlied! Fabulous. Sorry I was so quiet, Vlied, but that's my away-from-the-computer personality. As you were able to tell I'm just one big shy softie.

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Two words: fa-boo

I admit, I put off buying one. First of all because it was on my amazon wishlist and you never know if someone would buy it for me for my birthday and secondly, oh why bother. Logging on, getting out your credit card, waiting for the postie... too difficult. Until my Humo-calendar got too much commentary (it's Halfnaked Footballer's Month apparently, not that I'd noticed. I didn't pay much attention to the photo) and I realised putting photos of half-naked people semi-celebrities you don't know (and are not attracted to) in your living room is a bit silly. Though Bietje once bought us a calendar of halfnaked artful ladies... which was fabulous.. ahem, anyway, moving on.
I logged on and ordered a fabulous Ugly Betty calendar, which arrived today. Luckily for me January was Betty-month (so I didn't miss much) and I'm starting out with a whole month of Mark. Wahey!

(I also ordered and received John Barrowman's autobiography... but don't tell anyone... thank god Warskinny brought me back that new book case from Ikea)

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10 bizarre bible stories

To "celebrate" that moron Huckabee's win of 5 states, making McCain/Huckabee a likely choice (-shudders-) a link to ten bizarre bible stories. Funny you never hear about these when idiots like Huckabee are quoting the bible at you.
There's the story where children get mauled to death by bears for mocking a man who's going bald, onan spilling his seed upon the floor, bringing someone 200 foreskins in order to buy their daughter, Jesus getting angry at a tree (the tree deserved it!), God showing Moses his arse and a biblical understanding of genetics.
Enjoy!

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Super Tuesday



I'm sure this test is far from representative (minimum amount of questions, no shades of grey), but apparently I should be rooting for Hillary.
Even though 60% is hardly stellar is it, but then I presume I'm a tiny bit more left of center than she is.

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Move over...

We might as well give up, there's no way we can beat this. Azerbaijani angels and devils. With chairs. And fireworks. And opera-type stuff.
They're in, we're out.

(Elnur - Day after day)

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Couldn't we just...
send this again?



verdraagzaamheieieieieieieieieieied! Vuur liefde af!

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Andre, come back!

I never thought I'd say this, but I miss André Vermeulen. Eurosong is not the same without him. I know he's coming back for the semi-finals and the final, to inform Flanders what they should not send (Flanders will -as ever- promptly ignore him), but we need him NOW. If only to say "well, it's a bit strange to send the same songs twice".
I liked the kindergarten-folk-Amélie-weirdness that was Ishtar, but two Belgian folky entries in a made up language? André would have shouted "Urban Trad! Urban Trad!" after the first note, yet it took the jury three hours of praising before they mentioned it.
And Tanja Dexters! Clever tricks with the singing, but the song is not just "a bit like" Helena Paparizou's "My number one", it's a carbon copy. Complete with gay dancers dressed in white. Like Weetniet said, all she needed to add was for her dancers to lie down on the floor and form the number "one".
André would not have stood for this. He would've run into the middle of the stage to shout "Don't send this! It already won once!" before being taken off by the men in white coats.
But then at least *someone* would have had the guts to speak up.
I miss you, André. Come back soon!

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Random question

Do people taking part in carnival actually think they're funny?
The mind boggles...

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