alnya

It seems that star-face-tattoo girl was lying all along and had actually asked for all 56 stars, but changed her story when her dad freaked out.

Obviously no one saw this coming from a mile off.

Cross posted for maximum pimpage

My choir, The Edinburgh Singers annual summer concert is this Saturday, and in honor of Mendelssohn's birthday they'll be performing the awesome, epic and dramatic Elijah. The 50 strong choir will be joined by orchestral players from the RSNO and BBCSCO, soloists from the RSAMD in Glasgow, Scottish Opera and Opera North, the Glasgow University Madrigirls and a thousand elephants!¹

The concert's at Greyfriars Kirk, starting at 7.30 PM and is £12 (or £9 bargin price for students and concessions) - tickets from the Queen's Hall box office (0131 668 2019) or on the door - hope to see you there!

( Flyer )

¹ May not contain elephants

I'm sorry to link to the Daily Mail, but it's worth it for the picture.

I've got a tatoo, on my arm. It didn't hurt geting it done, but it did make my whole body rattle. If someone was stencilling little cute starts on MY FACE i doubt i'd be able to sleep through that. Then again, I've slept through a car crashing into my house before, so maybe...

The best quote from the article is from Jules Clocher, a Psychologist: "The trauma this girl must be feeling is indescribable. She feels like a circus freak - and no wonder, because she looks like one."

HAHAHA IN YOUR FACE!!! jesus

We used to get this a lot when i worked for a body piercing place. Young people (boys and girls, but mainly girls) would come in and ask for stuff they hadn't thought about, then they go home with their tongue pierced and their dad freaked out, dragged their sorry ass to our shop and shouted at us. Legally you can get anything pierced whatever age you are, but we used to get it in writing before hand, so that when we were wiping the spittle of enraged dads from our faces we could show them their little angel's signature.

Yes because today is the day of lemon scented soap and the voice of god in the street although they were all probably grubby little boys but Plato was young once too I suppose yes for old ireland and the new and they're not affraid of change unlike stephen and bella and the other wandering rocks yes its her i feel sorry for all alone except for her fancy man and her not-so-fancy man and his little chubby potato yes its bad enough that its a book that celebrates infidelity which you'd never catch me doing but wonderful that it celebrates first dates (and last dates) and dates forever more on a date for ever more yes talking about sex and death and sticks and dogs and music and love and language and news and farting and shaving and manners and stays and all that is wonderful and sordid and yes i said yes i will yes

Scone recipies are one of those things, passed down with added directions - only use cold butter, make sure you never use a wooden spoon, etc. (I said this to freya_bean yesterday whilst trying a new recipie, who replied saying: "that's nonsense - but make sure your hands are cold!")

I've just bought Rachel Allen's book (Bake!) - she's like the anti-Nigella: all family wholesomeness and perkyness. Nigella would take her in a fight. Anyway, she's got a scone recipie, and my mum's scone recipie produces very Scottish Scones (little, barely rise, very solid - perfect for mass production at coffee mornings), so I decided to try hers out. Well, her added direction is that you make the mix rediculously wet, kneed it for 45 minutes and then it'll come together.

It doesn't fucking come together. Not without adding another bag of flour. I suspect a typo. That fucking scone mix gets EVERYWHERE, and its a bugger to prise off anything. The army, seriously, should consider using it. However, despite huge amounts of kneeding, cajolling, and begging, and another bag of flour, I managed to make scones. They were magnificent, huge, airy, wonderful things. However, due to all the mix being lost in various places in the kitchen, I only managed to make 6.

I'm buying more flour on the way home

Edited for spelling mistakes :)

Eric Whitacre, who is a fantastic and awesome composer and all round 21st century gent, is running a little experiment to try and create a youtube choir! The current "proof of concept" is to record Sleep, (which is a wonderful piece of music). You can go to his website (www.soaringleap.com) and grab the sheetmusic for your part (SSATTB) and just record yourself singing it, and upload to youtube by the 30th of June.

This could really be something amazing, so give it a go, please!

(my humble effort is here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uv5jjOIBSSg - and you can hear my choir performing the whole piece here: http://soundcloud.com/edinburghsingers/sleep-1

I have to say just recording my own line (t2) was utterly discombobulating! I had to work about 10 times more than usual on breath control (no one to help with breathing!) - good way to practice I suppose (if very harsh!)

Having spent this morning on the phone, dialing and re-dialing like a 6 year old on a Saturday morning, desperately trying to get through to win the opportunity to talk to Phillip Schofield (NOTE: this may no longer happen with today's youth), I managed to get a reservation at the Fat Duck for my birthday - score! Snail porridge awaits! They have great hold music though: a wonderful gent reading Lewis Carroll's Alice In Wonderland.

A quick jaunt to the gym (i love the gym when it's quiet, and you can just plug in your iPod and get on with it) later, and some peggle saw off the afternoon.

We met our new gardener tonight, and he's lovely! A grand old crusty, totally practical, very warm and friendly, and happy to chat about what we want (it totally raised to the ground and started again) and all that. Love it.

He's crazy busy though, so will have to wait until July before he can start, but I'm totally excited!

Sofi, who has been on anti-anxiety meds, has been taken off them, since she's not shown any difference. The vet has proscribed, I shit you not, a cat pheremone air freshner doohicky, which one plugs in and gives out soothing calming kitty vibes.

I expect to come home tonight and find eight to ten cats outside, checking their bow ties and hopefully clutching lackluster bouquets of flowers.

This is wonderful:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/mar/27/oddest-book-title-prize-fromage-frais

What are the applications? I must know!

EDIT: I've been thinking:

1) Making large cakes

http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2009/mar/05/young-victoria

I think a scene between Albert and Victoria where they lovingly play Hungry Hungry Hippos could be just the ticket.

I'm on Twitter. I don't want to lay claim to it or anything, but about 8 years ago, I may have said that what the world really needed was stream of conciousness blogging (I have witnesses) - and it has arrived.

Or rather, it arrived a while ago, and the bandwagon has rolled into town and everyone else is jumping on it, including me. I seem to have survived the initial interest wax and wane, and continue to post as the mood strikes - not to entertain or to inform, just because I can, mainly.

I have noticed something peculiar however. I'm not being followed by anyone famous (with the notable exception of the delightful Imogen Heap, who follows everyone in her beatific way), but I am following several. Subsequently my twitter page is a curious mash up of the entertainment industry and, well, reality. Never before has the yawning chasm of lifestyle been more aparent, where talk of hangovers intersperses craft services discussions and early morning lipgloss. Its an intoxicating juxtaposition. With a slight side effect: I'm getting stage fright. I dont think my tweets are worthy in comparison with these modern-day demigods even though they aren't reading them. The sheer fact that my tweets and theirs intersperse is enough to spot my inane drivel, and make me want to change my output. Very curious. Someone should write a paper.

Now, if you'll excuse me, they're filming my reverses in a minute.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/7920651.stm

"Our victory has been tarnished by us not actually winning in any real sense", University of Manchester contestants have said.

"Certainly, not being the smarter of the two teams, in a two team game, which ultimately led to us knowing less of the answers to the questions answered has spoilt what would have been a sweet victory", they added.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7875005.stm

What a rediculous idea. I think Sorry is the word I say most (or possibly Fuck - which is then followed by Sorry)

My heart went out to Heston when he watched people saying they thought his food was poncy (it was a leeetle) - but he's caught in the classic "hip-client" conundrum. Viz:

You have a client who thinks they're hip and groovy and want you to be all hip and groovy. You look at their business and the last thing they need is to be hip and groovy, they just need to be better. But no one wants to hear that.

This CEO wants exploding meringue and badger's trousers with matching xboxen, the customers want decent bacon and eggs in a hurry, and Heston's caught in the middle, not being Gordon Ramsey. Poor guy.

I was carol singing yesterday, and people stopped to watch. Some joined in. One lady donated a fiver, and asked if we were professional. I loved her, for just a second.

----

Bread has been baked, cheeses bought, truffles rolled in coconut and vats of wine are mulling as I speak. Soon, there will be cocktail sausages.

Friends will be arriving soon, and there will be big coats, and perfumed scarves, and warm hugged hellos, gladly given glasses of wine and catching up. At some point tonight, we will all watch the Muppet's Christmas Carol, and all conversation will cease, slowly, as people realize it's the Muppets.

At about 1am, we'll finish It's A Wonderful Life, and I'll be drunkenly weeping.

I love this time of year - Merry Christmas!

I'm not a huge fan of the Scorpions, although I have been known to Rock You Like a Hurricane on expert, every once in a while. The fact that my ISP has decided to enforce a recommendation to block some of their album art seems to be to be made with the best of intentions, (it shows a very very young lady in what you could think was a pornographic pose were you unfamiliar with pornography).

(The article is here, if you want to check how liberal your ISP is)

Is it a terrible album cover? Absolutely. Should I be banned from seeing it on wikipedia? Absolutely not. Not in the least because I can view it happily on amazon, google image search, among countless others. If some warning were displayed, fair enough.

My ISP, on the other hand, has decided not to serve me the entre article! As if the text itself (florid as it is) could awake my desires. What it does mean is that I can't read why the image was thought too be in poor taste, and was replaced by the band itself. Not exactly titilating.

Of course, the streissand effect is in full flow, and this is now the most popular page on wikipedia. I'm sure album sales will skyrocket (torrent downloads certainly have). I dont think anyone is suggesting child abuse is not a horrible thing, but this is not it. This is a whole other worrying thing.

I hardly ever remember my dreams, and so often assume that I just dont have them. Last night though, it was very vivid, and has stayed with me all day, strangely.

I was dressed well, and going to a concert. The concert was to be attended by the composer of the piece, and I was performing. Except I was going to be in the audience to watch me perform. When the programme started, I was outraged that I wasn't performing - that I had been replaced - so I stormed off in the huff. Just on my way out, I turned, and saw that it was me, but it was a younger me: I still had long hair, all my earrings, was much thinner. I looked around and saw the composer, and he was enraptured. This just made me madder, since I assumed I'd been replaced since I wasn't good enough. Then, it just suddenly all went wrong, and everyone was booing, and I felt smug and disgusted with myself.

Interpretations welcome!