I AM the Cheerleader

I KNEW it, I KNEW it, I AM the cheerleader, dear reader. This not only means that I get to sleep with the captain of the football team but also something that we've all suspected for a while - Peter Petrelli really does love me. Oh, and I get to have a sexually ambiguous best friend. This also explains all those nights out that I've completely blanked. Until now, I'd blamed the vodka but NO!! In fact, a mysterious Haitian has been wiping my memory. Could life GET any better? To take this highly scientific (my italics) test, brought to us by Entertainment Weekly, click on the pic. (via Felipe Anuel)

9 Years Down the Drain Then...

A little old fashioned, and a little modern.
A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock.
A unique soul like you needs a city that offers everything.
No wonder you and London will get along so well.

You Belong in London

What City Do You Belong In?

After the Minitel...

After the Minitel..., originally uploaded by rhino75.

France is, as you know, dear reader, so often at the forefront of new technology. The Minitel, chip 'n' pin technology, smart cards, well the list is endless. Now, pay attention and remember where you saw it first, because here is a picture of Micke demonstrating the NEXT BIG THING. Logging on at the lights. Too cheap/broke to buy a Blackberry but need to check your email while on the move? No problem, sir. Just hop out of the car at the next set of traffic lights and enter your password. Not sure where you are but can't afford GPS? Again, a quick log on at the lights and you're on your way again in a trice. Careful though. Don't try it if the little man's flashing...safety first.

Evil Has A Face

And this is it. Oh yes, harmless enough at first sight, I grant you, that's even quite a nice little ribbon but DON'T BE FOOLED, dear reader. This chocolate bunny will give you ... (wait for it) ... WOBBLY BITS. G.O.G.H (no, not the self-mutilating Dutch artist, it stands for Gasp Of Gay Horror - much more traumatic). If you've noticed a slight hiatus in posting this week, it's because after the excesses of the holiday weekend, I've been staying in to concentrate on not eating (my emphasis). For, in the words of my favourite medieval round, "Summer is y-comen in, Loudè sing, cuckoo!" (don't start singing it, or we'll never get to the end of this). And, therefore, the human-puffa-jacket look is OUT. The good news is that from tomorrow I shall be re-introducing solids into my diet, after having "re-educated" my tastebuds. I'm starting with Beyonce's tried and tested three-slices-of- tomato-and-three-of-cucumber a day régime and hope to graduate to the Elizabeth Hurley 12-grapes-and-a-crispbread by Sunday. Vodka doesn't count, obviously, and neither does anything you eat when you're p*ssed. A week should do it. Wish me luck!

Validation

Thank goodness for that. I like to do these from time to time just to make sure I'm not slacking off. Click on the graph to take this highly scientific (my italics) test. And then share.

Forever Young

At last, some good news (for me, at least, because YES, it's all about me). Am off to complete the Times crossword while doing a jig. I can feel the years falling away already...