I really enjoyed this short film about a guy who agrees to wear a mood monitor on his chest and be followed by a camera crew all day. He is happy to do this in order to get on TV, but he ends up revealing more about himself than he’d planned. I particularly loved the moment when he comes across something that he’d meant to hide, and his monitor instantly turns red. The end was quite beautiful too.

While I was watching I wondered how it would be if we all wore one of those devices, if our moods and feelings were open for everyone else to see. Would it make life simpler, or more difficult?

Film by Eric Lerner. Music by Sigur Ros. (via Fubiz)

The weather’s even more bizarre than usual over here in Blighty; a week ago it was snowing, then it was rather mild all week, then this afternoon it rained heavily. I decided to go for a walk when the rain seemed to be dying down, but a few minutes later I found myself in the middle of a hailstorm, and became unreasonably worried that one of those huge mutant hailstones would fall on my head and knock me out. Luckily it eased after another couple of minutes.

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France’s First Lady, Carla Bruni, is apparently upset about the reappearance of some nude pics she modelled for during her modelling career. I don’t think she should be embarrassed at all; what’s done is done, and she looks amazing. Sure, it’s probably not totally appropriate for her current position as Mrs Sarkozy, but you have to own your actions, and posing nude, like having a tattoo, is something you may have to live with for the rest of your life.

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I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but if I were the subject of the Lucien Freud’s painting, Benefits Supervisor Sleeping, 1995, I would not be proud at all, never mind that it’s expected to become the most expensive picture by a living artist ever sold. Actually the subject doesn’t look half as bad in reality as he made her look in the painting, but I guess that’s art for you.

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There’s a rumour going around that Shakira was involved in a ménage à trois on a yacht with her boyfriend Antonio de la Rúa and singer Alejandro Sanz, which was captured on videotape… Shakira denies the whole thing, but if it were true I’d be very proud of her. Hetero men are always going on about their fantasy of having a threesome with a couple of women, basically because they love the idea of being able to satisfy two women at once, and that both women would lavish their attention on them. The thought of sharing a woman with another bloke repels them not just due to the possible bisexual connotations, but because of the competition factor. If Shakira was able to convince two apparently hetero guys to service her every wish, and then record it for posterity, then all power to her!

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After being banned by British Airways and arrested for acting like a complete knob, Naomi Campbell insists that she was mistreated because she’s black. No darling, you were punished for disrupting a flight, spitting on a cop and abusing crew members. You weren’t the only one to have been inconvenienced by the chaos at Heathrow Terminal 5, but I’m pretty sure that you’re the only one who made such a complete fool of yourself. Unlike most people whose suitcases went missing during the chaos, you can afford to replace every single item without a problem. The chances are that your suitcase will turn up eventually, but in any case there’s no excuse for attacking people in the way that you did. You need to sort out that anger of yours before you kill someone else or yourself.

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It looks like I might be staying with my parents for a while longer. The Bank of England cut interests rates by a quarter this week, but in reality it’s not going to mean much to those with mortgages as the global banking crisis and the threat of recession continue to hold our banks by the balls. Banks are becoming much stricter on people applying for mortgages, so you’d be hard-pressed to find a 100% mortgage anywhere now, and a sizeable deposit is also necessary for any chance of getting finance for a home. It does look like house prices are starting to decrease now, though it was inevitable really as first-time buyers were being priced out of the market. While the average salary in London is £25,000-35,000, the average home is about ten times higher, making it impossible for the average person to afford their own home.

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The electric guitar I won arrived a couple of days ago, but we’re not hitting it off totally. I think it needs new strings but I’m not bothered enough to even replace them. I wouldn’t mind having a nice electro-acoustic number, but I don’t think this one is really me. It was fun to try it out though, and even my dad had a go with it earlier. I’ll probably put it on ebay in a few days, or if you’d like an electric guitar with all the fixings (apart from an amp) and you’re in the UK (preferably), feel free to contact me.

It’s Guy Fawkes’ night tonight; fireworks are shooting into the sky and bonfires are alight in every public park. I remember when I was a kid people used to go around with their dishevelled fake men asking for a “penny for the guy”. I don’t see much of that happening nowadays.

¡Viva la Revolución!

I had 3 days annual leave from work last week, which gave me about a week and a half off work in total due to my part-time regime. As I had no money and the time off was a last-minute decision I didn’t go anywhere exciting. Most days I just dossed around the house, watching telly, blogging and eating crap (as usual). The days just merged into one long solo slumber party. I did leave the house a few times, though I can’t remember why now.

And I bet that you guys didn’t notice much of a difference. I’m still a damn lazy blogger. I don’t know why you even bother to read this blog: it’s not as funny as Dr M or ES, as aesthetic as BV, as inspiring as SW or AV or AW or LS, as informed as AGD, as sexy as NoS, nor as dismal as that spineless JMC (thank godness). I’m not even a superhero like CI. For a so-called “aspiring writer” I’m not writing much, even my blog posts are rarely more than 100 words.

Oh I know, you just come here for the Sunday soft-porn show - you filthy perverts.

Sorry, I wasn’t supposed to write all of that. Last Thursday I was in such a massive rage, it was bubbling in my stomach like a fizzy lake of acid at the base of a volcano. I swallowed it and gave you all a chance to be rude instead, but as usual the bile which I kept inside still leaked out in tiny puddles of mean (like now, in case you didn’t realise - and I have NOT wet myself!).

You really don’t want me to let it all out at once. I’ve never actually completely lost my temper or released my rage. I think the free world would probably end at that moment. I would turn into some kind of mythological beast and terrorise you all with my two heads and razor-sharp fangs. I would demand daily sacrifices of the young and firm of every land, starting with Paris Hilton and Britney J-Lo. I would vanquish my enemies with fireballs (you first J.D.).

I’d probably look a bit like this, though not as pretty:

So you had all better keep me sweet. Agreed?

And by the way, I hate you all.

It’s Wednesday night, so I can safely say that whatever WMD that J.D. launched against me was unsuccessful.

For this reason I am going to reduce this blog’s threat level from Critical (an attack is expected imminently) to Moderate. (an attack is possible, but not likely) And I’ve sacked the bodyguard (or demoted him to boyfriend status anyway).

In Britain the authorities give out Anti-Social Behaviour Orders (ASBOs) to menaces like J.D. Unfortunately they are often brandished as medals of honour by these hoodie-wearing hooligans, but the thought is there.

I have decided that it is my duty as a responsible blogger to give the blogverse’s first ASBO to J.D. for Mac-hatred, preparation or conspiracy to commit a terrorist offence and general acts of deviancy. Let us hope that this badge of shame will encourage him to change his ways for the better.

I sent one of my minions to deliver the ASBO document to J.D. in person and to ask him whether he was ready to apologise, unfortunately his only response was the following lewd gesture:

I’m not worried though, this is just stage one. If he doesn’t play fair I shall simply up the ante. I have friends in high places who aren’t as nice as me…

Evil blogging terrorist J.D. has issued me with a warning

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So I’ve decided to create a bionic woman out of cheap fake leather bags. It’s not such a strange idea, is it? I’ve already got the torso sorted out:

I just need to get the proportions right, then find her a suitable head, neck, and limbs and we’re all set. I’ll plug her into the electrical supply to animate her, then I’ll use her super strength to put an end to world conflict. My bag lady will rule the world…

After my last adventure in destroying junk food before I am tempted to devour it, I’ve decided to get professional about it and recreate my GCSE Science classroom.

My mum has a blowtorch somewhere. I need to locate it.

I need some goggles.

A bunsen burner would be cool, but probably unnecessary.

I need an apron, or one of those industrial blacksmith ensembles.

Maybe this is too much hassle…