Despite not having sex with a man until age 22, Goldie has had a lifetime of sexual experience to draw from, and as a professed homosexual (at least, for now) who has also had numerous sexual experiences with women, this intellectual should abhor labels. But in his latest work queersexlife: Autobiographical Notes on Sexuality, Gender & Identity, Goldie suggests that we might be better off with more of them, noting Grosz’s observation of how "the simple binary of sex and gender has resolutely failed."

Call him gay, call him straight; just don’t call him "in-between." Goldie is quick to discount bisexuality as a "false concept...an identity for those who are primarily willing to assert an identity but are actually still on the road to their true identity," calling it a situation that "consistently confuses" him. Perhaps it is a clear illustration of his "inability to see the hidden side" of his sexuality using self-analysis. Maybe he doesn’t want to be pigeonholed, or perhaps his loathing of the term reflects a distaste for things lukewarm. Or perhaps it’s because "the very idea of ’bisexual’ seems to belie a monogamous heterosexual or homosexual relationship," a concept derived from our society’s "penguin-like faith in the couple, regardless of how few couples seem able to keep the faith."

queersexlife reads like a history lesson infused with social theory that screams "I told you so," as, for example, when Goldie nonchalantly shoots down the notion of "gay recruitment" and recognizes the non-masculine boy, or "sissy boy," as a constant target. Simply put, Goldie blows "normative" thinking out of the water by immersing us in dinge queens, drag queens, intersex and anal sex --taking the "personal memoir" approach to academia to a whole new level.

Particularly enlightening are Goldie’s notes on the homosexual child, bisexuality, and the chapter entitled "Dinge Queens and Racists," in which he discusses politically appropriate desire, illustrating how homosexuality is "clearly a force of racism" and noting how, in some cases, difference in race may be a way of "using race to reproduce the relationship as ’hetero.’" Regardless of whether or not you are fascinated by Goldie’s ability to smoothly discuss subjects most modern day scholars would choke on, the considerable unearthing of scholarship in queersexlife should, in itself, be reason to take this work seriously.

But the question here isn’t really about whether or not Terry Goldie’s brand of pragmatism preaches to the masses. The words contained in this instant classic (and perhaps soon-to-be seminal work) are for those willing to shed their heterosexual conditioning for a moment and delve into the dense and ever-evolving subculture that challenges the status quo at every turn. That might be why, as Goldie points out, "even sophisticated thinkers seem to offer answers too simple to be satisfying."

Read my review on Edge

Coco 、Karolina與「關懷愛滋」再度聯手。第五集的內容是肝炎 Hepatitis – 無人不識的肝炎也是性病？！但 Coco 把它化成糕餅而面不改容，厲害之處無不令人聞風喪膽，女傭造型引發街頭少女爭相仿傚！http://www.so-u.tv/

Coco 、Karolina與「關懷愛滋」再度聯手。第五集的內容是肝炎 Hepatitis – 無人不識的肝炎也是性病？！但 Coco 把它化成糕餅而面不改容，厲害之處無不令人聞風喪膽，女傭造型引發街頭少女爭相仿傚！http://www.so-u.tv

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Although ABBA isn't what I'd call the height of Swedish culture, I do like infectious melodies, especially ones that give me a variety of lines to choose my notes from. The other very handy thing about ABBA is how easily you can fit other lyrics to the music.

Handy, of course, does not mean this is a universally good thing, but it's fun. It's especially fun when you have friends around who also like playing with language. You hear a phrase or a concept, sometimes with a rhythm that fits a tune you both know, and it's off to the races -- who gets the next line first? Who can make the next rhyme? How quickly does everything go horrendously blue or otherwise socially unacceptable?

Here's an example -- a serious abuse of "Dancing Queen". I don't recall which lyric came first, and I also know full well that the predicament described isn't realistic. As we used to say at Tech, "all flames to /dev/null":

See the clash
See the stares
How does she pick what she wears?
Ooooh
What a shame
What a scream
Digging the color-blind queen!

Driving with her is awful slow
Doesn't see when to stop or go.
When it comes to high fashion
Color-matching's a passion
How could Fate be so mean?
She could have looked so keen!

She is the color-blind queen:
Red and green
Simply can't be seen
Color-blind queen:
Only safe on the silver screen, oh yeah!
See the clash
See the stares
As she breaks rules unawares
Ooooh
What a shame
What a scream
Diggin' the color-blind queen!

Ran into her the other day
One pump was brown, the other grey
Feather boa was fuschia
Dress was olive and blue --
I had to turn away
What on earth could I say?

She is the color-blind queen:
Red and green
Simply can't be seen!
Color-blind queen:
Only safe on the silver screen, oh yeah!
People laugh
People gibe
It's happened all of her life!
Ooooh
Watch those gaffes
Steal the scene
Pity the color-blind queen!

So if you hear me humming, you may want to check what my brain is up to. Possibly no good at all....

Several years ago when I was ensconced in the local art scene in Vancouver (Canada), I caught drift of a rumor that David Bowie would be landing at the dock down at the waterfront - at which point - he planned to check local venues for up-coming concert dates.

Since Mr. Bowie (in the glitter-Queen phase of his musical musings at the time) was antsy about air travel, he chose to take a cruise up the coast on a luxury liner.

All my pals were inclined to doll themselves up in wild "Ziggy" Stardust get-ups - and swarm the docks - to get an up-close in-your-face gander at the legendary stage performer.

Since I just got back from an all-night trek up the coast from San Francisco, I was dead tired. Too pooped to participate! But, how could I pass up a golden opportunity to meet Ziggy?

So, I sashayed down to the harbour with a gaggle of Queens in tow. To be truthful, I didn't expect much, except a glimpse of the celebrated pop icon from afar.

But, as luck would have it, our motley rag-tag gang was given the nod to flounce right alongside the musical wizard as he disembarked from the gangplank.

Well - at this fantastic juncture - hysteria broke out among the fans.

A host of Ziggy Stardust impersonators screamed out Bowie's name - and on the heels of the chant - shrieked with delight when he favored 'em with a wave their way. As the frenzied throngs surged forward - for one fleeting moment - I thought the wild-eyed fans might carve out an actual scrap of flesh for a ghoulish souvenir.

Nonetheless, Mr. Bowie remained cool, and barely blinked an eye.

In the eye of the storm - Cherry Vanilla (who was acting as a sort-of press agent) - managed to steer the scintillating pop entourage out of harm's way.

Rock historians probably recall that Cherry Vanilla was an infamous plaster-caster, known for fashioning strikingly realistic "molds" of the co**s of a handful of rock stars she'd bedded on the rocky road to fame.

Suddenly - out-of-the-blue - the gathering circus struck me as surreal.

What the heck, at this pivotal moment, I opted to take a leap into the great unknown. Yup, grab for the brass ring, if you will. After all, I was in a wild and zany mood heightened by the fact I was fantastically sleep-deprived.

As David brushed up next to me in the crush of ecstatic fans, I unabashedly asked for a kiss - in what amounted to a titillating tease - I guess.

Suddenly, Mr. Bowie turned - gazed deeply into my eyes - and leaned forward.

Then, in one brief moment, our lips touched!

As fate would have it, a couple of photographers quick on-the-uptake, excitedly snapped away and captured the entire episode on film!

I was flabbergasted a few days later when one of my pals rang me up on the telephone and reported some startling news.

"There's a picture of you and David Bowie kissing in the morning Terminal City Express!"

I suppose the caption should have read: Two stars collide!

Since that bizarre outlandish day, I haven't had the pleasure to cross paths with Mr. Bowie again.

If the honor ever descends on moi - I wonder - would the Pop Star know me from - um - Adam, let's say?

Naw, I used to look like Peter Frampton in those heady days!

Now, I'm just another pretty face in Tinsel town.

I am fascinated by drag. Yes, drag, as in drag queen or drag king. This year, as you are all probably aware, I shot my first short film for a film class. I've talked about it quite a bit. Who I didn't really mention much was the teacher of that class. She's a Swiss filmmaker, who has studied in New York (among other places) and has had the honour of studying under Kieslowski, among other noted filmmakers. She lived in Colombia for some years and has shot her films (mainly documentaries) all around the globe. Interestingly, in light of what I will talk about next, her name is Gabriel Baur. She is a woman, but her first name is indeed spelled like the male version of that name. This wasn't a typo.

We were sitting in her production office at the beginning of the year and she taught us some basics of filmmaking. Then she showed us an extract of her latest film: Venus Boyz. I was mesmerised by it. For years, I'd been thinking: men have it so easy being drag queens. It's so incredibly easy to put on a wig, slather yourself in make-up, don a dress and slip into high-heels. It's easy to emulate a woman because there are so many different styles to choose from and so many ways and examples as to how to be womanly. Transforming into a man, I think, is not as easy. Mainly because today's men's wear is quite dull and repetitive. Suits are suits, shorts and t-shirts are just that and even a biker's outfit doesn't have much room for innovation or change. Now, please note that I am speaking in generalisations here. I am also documenting my mindset at the time, which I have since then slightly revised. Generally, however, this is how it breaks down for me. And it's not only a question of male attire being rather boring (compared to the 18th century for example). Men also tend to have rather repetitive mechanisms and mannerisms. Women run a huge gamut. Shy, coy, girly, butch, femme, crazy, diva, frugal, indulgent, brainy, emotional, sexual, virginal and many, many more. Women are all that and more often than not, they're a combination of more than one of those characteristics. And it all makes them seem like a true woman. But think about it, while you've got so much to choose from if you want to play a woman, what would you pick to make the world perceive you as male? That's right, you'd talk in a deeper voice, grunt a little more, scratch your crotch area and make cruder jokes. Not exactly a vide variety of choices and certainly not as fun to emulate as a woman.

In a nutshell: I used to think men could have easy fun being drag queens, but what about if girls wanted to do the same? And to be perfectly honest, I didn't know girls did the same.

When I was a child, I loved playing dress-up. I preferred playing with Barbies instead of baby dolls because Barbies had a myriad of outfits. But playing dress-up was something amazing to me. I could become older (not so much a concern nowadays) and impersonate all these different characters. I remember how my dad, a photographer back then, used to snap me every once in a while when I was disguised. And I did it all: from 19th century duchess in red velvet pill box hat with veil, over Arabian princess, to kinky Cupid (naked with just chains - god knows where I had those from - black mask and an old riding crop). I don't particularly remember dressing up as a boy (there were so many female characters to explore!) but I do remember thinking how stupid and cowardly it was that boys never dressed up as girls.

In highschool, I participated in two theatre productions. I had done one earlier, in primary school, where I had played Athena, much to my delight until my toga fell apart in the dancing scene and I was left humiliated and my classmates never stopped beating that dead horse for years. Anyhoo: I did two proper productions in highschool and in both, I had a male part. The first was a troubadour. The play was about different incarnations of love throughout the ages and tales and the troubadour's role was basically the moderator who introduced and commented on the different scenes. I had a great time doing it. I was dressed all silly, had a tambourine and got to improvise a lot. The second part, which was more significant, was that of a middle-aged man whose, if memory serves, daughter was getting married. The play had four people in it, the daughter, her fiancé and "my" wife. All were played by girls. But I think I was the only one happy about playing a man. My best friend at the time was playing the fiancé and for her, it was putting on a suit and saying the lines. I, on the other hand, really worked on my character. I devised a way of walking for this man, a way of carrying his pot belly (gotta use what you have, right?! :)), a deeper, more paced voice and slower, bigger, stronger gestures. I constructed a history for him, which nobody but me ended up being interested in. He was a bourgeois, so that was why I gave him some lion-ey traits, but what wasn't I took from myself. I tried imagining myself as a middle-aged, well-to-do man and what I would be like in that situation. What would I like, dislike, indulge in, etc. I loved preparing for this character and I took it very seriously on one hand, but on the other, I had a blast doing it. If I can say one thing for myself, it's that in most situations, I have a gift for finding the fun or the humour in something serious. I think I just know quite well when to keep the seriousness at bay and that has been beneficial many times. The day we went costume shopping was a hoot! The Turkish salesman looked at us with a "heathens!" expression on his face as we tried out suits, belts and shoes. One detail I recall from my man make-up: I didn't wear a wig. I had very long hair back then, to the butt long, and I tried a variety of styles to make it disappear. Anything with a wig looked silly, it looked like a girl in man's clothes. And then I just tied it together in a nape-of-the-neck-ponytail and let it be. And it worked. It didn't look silly anymore. The nights we performed, I strapped down my breasts and the illusion created was great. I even got to Hollywood-kiss my wife. So these were my first experiences with drag.

But back to the beginning: I saw Venus Boyz and it was tantalising. Drag kings! I never knew they existed and suddenly, I got to see this whole cultural movement of women who were dressing up as men. Just like the queens, they have contests, clubs, bars etc, etc. And just like the queens, as they paint their eyebrows and stuff dildos in their briefs, their mindsets change when they are in drag. I like drag because to me, it symbolises an incredible freedom of expression and at the same time, it allows you to slip into another version of yourself. You experience a set of completely different rules and restrictions but magically, this is precisely what sets you utterly free.

Now originally, this post was going to end here. But I've thought of something else I'd also like to slip in at this point. May seem random, but work with me here.

I love men in skirts. And I love men in teddies. And yes, I mean straight men.

I think there is something so sexy about a straight guy with the confidence to pull off a skirt, sarong or teddy. I am a HUGE (yes, I had to capitalise) Rocky Horror Picture Show fan and Tim Curry in his glittering teddy, pardon my French, makes me cream. Is he gay in the movie? No, he's definitely bi! A dream come true right there. Barry Bostwick, who plays Brad, and Peter Hinwood, Rocky, are sooooo hot in their corsets, fishnet stockings and feather boas. Sure, they've been put in them by Franknfurter, but these boys work their heels! And what's that about a straight man in a skirt or sarong? Yes ladies and gents, they exist. I've seen them with my own two eyes. The first times (yes, that's a plural) I ever saw them was back in highschool, when I was doing Model United Nations. I did it twice and both times, at the farewell dance, there were guys in skirts. I remember one in particular, who was strikingly handsome. I had worked with him all week and thus, seen him in a dark blue suit all week. During that week, he didn't particularly strike me as anything. I think the most thought I gave to his looks was something along the lines of "hey, that blue suit really brings out his blue eyes". On the night of the dance, he was transformed. This serious, definitely straight, bordering on boring young man came in wearing a snug orange t-shirt (the nice, warm, spicy kind of orange) and an ankle-length, plain red skirt. He wore a surfer necklace and no shoes (in January!). I couldn't take my eyes off him. He'd gone from blah to baboom! Suddenly, he looked as tall as he actually was, his blue eyes sparkled, his blond hair was perfectly tousled and his sculpted figure was unbelievably scrumptious. I spent half the evening secretly following him around and envying the girls he flirted with.

I deplore that men don't wear skirts (or something similar) these days. I think most of them would look surprisingly good in them and the world is a more boring place for lack of that. Men's fashion used to be just as imaginative and complicated and adorned as women's at some point, but we lost that. It's a shame really. And no, I don't think it feminises men at all. In Egypt, almost all the men I worked with wore galabeyas, caftans of sorts, and they were more rugged and manly than most men I see over here. In fact, if I see another business student with ironed jeans, Todd's loafers and a pink shirt, I'll throw up on him.

I like the edges blurred between genders. I find that fascinating and exciting. It's amazing what can happen when we shed the stereotypes surrounding our genders and push the boundaries of what is socially acceptable. I like manly men and I like feminine women but I don't think that necessarily means conforming to set fashion rules. If there's one thing I know, it's this: being manly or feminine rarely has anything to do with appearance, but comes from within. And if it's assured within, it'll cloak an individual in an unmistakeable aura.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

ps: click here and here for two pictures of me as a drag king (well, kinda sorta) I took right after seeing the extract of Venus Boyz

pps: there's a brandnew podcast waiting for you, link to the side!

Amy, originally uploaded by richiesoft.

An Amy Winehouse look-a-like on the parade at London Pride 2008

The maximum range for a projectile for a given velocity of projection occurs at an angle of 45 degrees. The set of projectile paths for different angles at the same velocity will have an envelope that is a parabola.

The drag acting on a projectile of a reasonable speed (say multiple of tens of metres per second) will be proportional to v^2, and the drag coefficient can be estimated based on some rough ideas on terminal velocity. With this data, the graphs for various angles are as shown. As can be seen, the range is much lower than that obtained from the drag free projection earlier.

Consider the above case with a particle projected with different drag coefficients. The path, unlike the no drag case, is asymmetrical, with the motion till maximum height being at very high speeds, and the final path almost vertical. This is the typical path of a soccer ball.

[sourcecode lang='cpp']
#include
#include
#include

int main(int argc, char** argv){
float u, q;
float ux, uy;
float dt = 0.05;
float vsq;
float x, y;
float ax, ay;
float coeff;
int i, j;

if (argc == 3) {
u = atof(argv[1]);
q = atof(argv[2]);
} else {
u = 100;
q = 45;
}

for (j = 0; j < 20; j++) {
coeff = 0.016;
q = 90 - j * 4;
x = y = 0;
printf("%f %f\n", x, y);
ux = u * cos(q * M_PI /180);
uy = u * sin(q * M_PI /180);
ax = -coeff * u * u * cos(q * M_PI /180);
ay = -coeff * u * u * sin(q * M_PI /180) - 10;
for (i = 0; i < 1000; i++) {
x += ux * dt;
y += uy * dt;
printf("%f %f\n", x, y);
if (y < 0)
break;
ux += ax * dt;
uy += ay * dt;
vsq = ux * ux + uy * uy;
ax = -coeff * vsq * cos(q * M_PI /180);
ay = -coeff * vsq * sin(q * M_PI /180) - 10;
}
putchar('\n');
}
return 0;
}
[/sourcecode]

En hund har kommit in i mitt liv. Igen, kan jag säga, för det har funnits några tidigare. Två taxar i vår familj i min barndom, ytterligare en när jag blev tonåring och senare en vacker och charmfull boxer. Och nu denna lilla, av äkta blandras. En omväxlande tillvaro med full aktivitet långa stunder och då och då avbrott för total avkoppling. För oss båda. Skönt det. Åtskilligt fostrande återstår. En aktuell lektion har handlat om konsten att inte dra i kopplet. Inte lätt för liten valp att förstå hur hon ska bete sig för att det ska bli rätt.

Försöken att hjälpa henne lära sig regelverket bygger på den filosofi som beskrivs på ett mycket trevligt sätt i boken Lyckliga lydiga hundar (ICA-förlaget). Den är skriven av Anders Hallgren, hundpsykolog. Tanken är att leka fram förståelsen hos hunden genom uppmuntran och beröm vid rätt beteende. Det felaktiga beteende varken uppmärksammas eller bestraffas. Målet är en hund som blir glad av att göra rätt. Jag gillar filosofin men den är inte alldeles enkel att följa. Lätt, roligt och belönande att ge henne beröm. Hon blir påtagligt glad. Svårare att låta bli att reagera när det bits lite för hårt i någon utsatt mänsklig kroppsdel eller dras i spänt koppel.

Kanske blir det nödvändigt att gå kurs tillsammans. I boken varnar författaren för att de som håller kurserna ibland använder sig av den traditionella hundfostrarmetoden, den där man använder bestraffningar för att styra hunden rätt. Alltså nödvändigt att först ta reda på vilka metoder som används.

En liten valp tar mycket uppmärksamhet och tid men kan inte stänga ute omvärlden. Jag har svårt att låta bli att tänka på den unge Omar Khadr i Guantánamo, han som gråtande genomgår ett förhör dokumenterat i en film, nu offentliggjord av BBC. Brottet, att som 15-åring ha kastat en handgranat som dödade en amerikansk soldat, i det som amerikanska regeringen benämner "kriget mot terrorismen". Frågan är hur brottsligt det är att använda vapen mot andra människor när det handlar om krig? Tar de sig inte väl stor rätt att tolka vad som är lag och rätt, de där bushmänniskorna i "världens största demokrati"?

Och vart leder dessa metoder? Kommer en ung man som möter dessa reaktioner någonsin att få förtroende till lag och rätt när han så småningom kommer ut på andra sidan eländet och ska forma sitt liv framöver? Är det inte troligare att han väljer att leva i opposition mot samhället och kanske t o m hämnas? Hur vore det med lite modern hundpsykologi i metodiken istället?

Förra gången gick det ju  nästanför bra, hon brydde sej inte mycket om tyngderna, så jag tyckte vi skulle prova med lite mer tyngd idag. Så jag knöt på 2 st 1.5li flaskor med vatten i....gick galant! Sen knöt jag på två mindre flaskor  också....så sammanlagt hade hon 4.5 liter vatten att dra. Först gick det väl lite trögt, men med lite lock i form av levergodis, formligen sprang hon med flaskorna efter sej...*skrattar*

Det värsta med att träna är att hon börjar bli en riktig liten gottegris av allt godiset hon får i belöning....fast det var hon i o f sej innan med.

Har tänkt på en sak....Bella har slutat stjäla mat! Så sent som idag hade jag mackor stod på bordet, och hon rörde dem inte! Säkert all motion och träning som hjälper till där....

Sen träffade vi en kompis och hans sambo med vovvar. Ev ska jag var ahundvakt åt ena deras hund ihelgen. Men först måste vi ju se om det funkar med Bella. Det gick bra ute, jag gick lit emed båda tillsammans i koppel, en på var sida och det gick bra. Senare på kvällen var Henrik hem till oss med vovven fr att se hur Bella skulle reagera på att ha en annan hund förutom Rocko här. Det gick rätt bra faktiskt. Hon var välidgt vaksam i början, och gillade inte att han snokade runt hennes vattenskkål. Ett par gånger fick jag stöta till henne för jag såg hon var på gång att blåsa upp sej, men det gick förvånansvärt bra i alla fall. Utom när han hoppade upp i soffan till oss. Då sa Bella ifrån. Mest var det nog för att hon ville tala om att det var minsann HENNES matte och ingen annans. Så han inte trodde nåt....

Vi ska ses igen i morrn för att kolla läget. Jag är dock lite tveksam till att ha honom över natten.....tror inte Bella är riktigt mogen för det än, även om hon stadgat sej bra hos oss, så har hon nog inte boat in sej 100 %...

nåja vi får se....

It's time once again for CGNIE's annual fundraiser "Christmas In July". Of all the events done each year, this one is the highlight of the charity's season.

Click the photo for full view and more information.

Trots att dom sagt att vädret skulle bli rätt kass, så var det helt okej i alla fall. Lite molnigt och blåsigt, men mest sol, och ca 20 graer, vilket är perfekt för min del!

Som vanligt har vi varit ute en hel del den här veckan....idag packade jag Bellas klövjeväskor med spårlina, sele, ett par tomma små PET-flaskor, och godis, plus ett par gamla koppel. Styrde kosan mot Brandthovda Ip. Tänkte testa med att låga Bella dra lite i selen, så hon vänjer sej, om vi ska börja weightpulling. Inga problem alls visade det sej. Först var hon lite störd av flaskorna som hängde i två gamla koppel, men efter nån minut hade hon vant sej. Vi gick runt först i gräset, sen på grusplanden och även på asfalt, med flaskorna skramlande efter. Bella brydde sej inte. Sen fyllde jag flaskorna med vatten så det blev lite mer tyngd, men det var ju ändå på tok för lätt för henne.....nemas problemas!

Såg mig om efter fler tyngder men hittade inga tyvärr. Så nästa gång blir det större PET-flaskor. HIttade däremot ett par kedjor där som kan vara användbara senare....

Efter lite bus med bollen så tog vi en promenad runt Badelundaåsen, genom skogen. Bella älskar att knata runt i skogen på småstigarna! Hela tiden bar hon klövjeväskorna så på slutet var hon allt lite trött ändå...det var visserligen bara 1 kilo, men hon är ju ovan så ...

Tyvärr har Bella också fått en elak fästing på insidan av ena låret, och vi får inte ta bort den. Vi har försökt med det mesta nu, men hon är hal som en ål, och misstänksam som bara den....vi var tre stycken som försökte hålla i henne, men det var lögn i attan. Skulle behöva ha nåt lugnande så hon inte kämpar emot så....

Att köra slut på henne så hon blir så trött så hon inte orkar kämpa emot, tvivlar jag på att det går...inte med den energin fröken Bella har inte....

I've been laying pretty low these past few weeks mainly because I've been so exhausted and haven't had the desire, really, to get gussied up and play with the kids. However, I did make it out this past weekend to the new Hamburger Mary's in Long Beach. Yes kids, Mary's back. I made it out for their grand opening on Friday night, and it doesn't hurt that not only does my friend David work there, but long lost Cousin David as well. It was something of a family reunion, which was nice. David left and Cousin and I decided to do the bar crawl. It was nice to catch up.

Sunday, Jonathan and I went back to Mary's for drag queen brunch, always a good time. Friend David was our server and he was working hard for that money.

Here are some pictures, in no rhyme or reason fashion.

Last night I went and got my hair done, as you can see it was fading--fast. Now I'm a rich chocolate brown. Nothing crazy, I needed to let my poor hair heal. Bur fear not, it won't be long until I get in the mood to entertain.

Rollerskate, originally uploaded by richiesoft.

A participant skates along the parade route at the Lesbian Gay Bisexual & Transgendered Pride event London 2008

A video/slide on some of the strangest crashes caught on film.

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Herein lies the bloggage by means of NZ Pol Bloggers as things go the twelvemonth with regard to Demesne regard the Common year upon Their Beneficiary Mates Chiliahedron and Seven.

Anabasis 2007

Maggot(1 scud)
Anarchia - 1 fasthold, 18 comments

Toy(2 - 9 posts)
Mutopia - 9 posts, 18 comments

Give way(10 - 19 posts)
sportreviewnz - 15 posts, 10 comments, 85% dumb trick ruler-straight(Richard says, not number one!)
Hurl'em Every man Jack astraddle an Close off- 16 posts, 8 comments
Counter Skedaddle- 16 posts, 59 comments
Ambrose of Milan Gardner.hard information- 18 posts, 13 comments
The Behind-the-scenes operator- 18 posts, 67 comments

Leger(20 - 29 posts)
SAJ Rag& Kit- 26 posts (comments not granted)
Superego Settle Communist- 29 posts, 439 comments

Squat(30 - 49 posts)
Spanblather - 41 posts, 278 comments

Interventional(50 - 74 posts)
The Data Tenant- 56 posts, 640 comments

Ram(75 - 99 posts)
Tumeke - 95 posts, 489 comments

Character man(100 - 199 posts)
Con Truth Bout- 109 posts, 669 comments
News24seven - 132 posts, 3 comments

Sterling Loaded(200+)
Kiwiblog - 254 posts, 6745 comments, 27211 spam comments

Guest: "Let's see them!"

A few fags play dress up after a few cocktails.