Spanish Eyes

London holds many things and my humble opinion is that nearly all of them are bad. That is at least my general feelings on the topic and yet I am aware that one day I will most likely end up living there. But I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT!
Don't I?

Apparently not. Each time I get there I ready myself for the flooding hatred I usually feel, but it doesn't come anymore. In fact it replaces itself with something you might even describe as jubilance. The little trip of today left me feeling utterly happy to the core of my being.

Visiting a friend for what was originally set to be a pub lunch and a catch-up we headed over to the Future Gallery instead to see the Café du Pique-Nique. I'm not sure what I was expecting from an indoor picnic. I think I was assuming it'd be crap but it was really nice. Clean, soft, fake grass to sit on, warmed by SAD lamps providing us with sunshine and surrounded by birdsong and fake leaves, vines, trees. As lovely as it was I couldn't help but remember I was inside but everywhere I looked I could see people literally laying on each other just as you would expect to see them doing in the park. The food was great and arrived in a little hamper and everything. Most importantly however, it had a bar. Cider in the fake sun, there isn't much that can make me happier. Actually, scratch that, there is. Cider that has been served to me by the most beautiful woman in the world, with a soft Irish accent. Ace.

Somehow the discussion turned to how I have been mistaken for being Spanish before and it turns out that it is accepted that everybody thinks I look Spanish. Apparently it is a combination of my dark hair, my dark eyes and the shape of my face. I do in fact look Spanish. I had been told that before, but now I have actually been told that by two different Spanish people, so quite simply, it must be true.

The conversation of the day however, was a discussion regarding why people sometimes mistake me as being gay when they meet me. New acquaintance Dan lays back on the grass with his eyes shut and says "I didn't think you were gay, but if you'd have said you were, I wouldn't have been surprised".
Thanks?

Anyway, it was just a really nice day and I'm liking that people can apparently mistake me for being Spanish. Also loving the new look at the BFI, now my official hangout whenever I am in London.

I did not like how 'single' the couples canoodling in the grass made me feel though.

Bastards.

Vodka Revolutions

Silly-flavoured vodka shots and inhaling the fumes with a straw.
Being told I look like Johnny Depp (I don't, but it's a nice thought).
Seeing Lewis start an absurdly loud 'woop woop' sound that's mimicked by an entire club.
Paying £8.50 for 2 cocktails, with a £10 note and getting £11.50 change.
Meeting awesome new people.
Meeting a porn star.
Body-bag sleeping bags.
Caterpillar rolling.
Seeing Batman punch a woman in the face while Iron Man tries to pull him away.

These are the things that Vodka Revolutions was made of for me.
Despite what vodka does to me.

Today has been a good day

For the first time in a long time that I can remember, today has been a good day.

When I say good I don't just mean that it had a few nice moments in it, but I mean a genuinely good day from start to finish. Maybe it was because I went to bed laughing at my ban from Chat Roulette, maybe that was why I awoke with a smile on my face and this started my day.

The sun was out, the sky was blue, the weather was fantastic and I was able to dust off my lightweight Uniqlo Japan jacket and wear it once again. The walk to and from stations was lovely in the clean, fresh air. My train had no ticket machines so my ticket was half price by the time I got one. Then another brisk stroll in the sun took me to News Writing, usually a 3 hour misery and I smiled and laughed all the way through - who can honestly write a story about a panda sexually assaulting people with a straight face?

My tattoos are all healed over too which meant I was able to wear a jacket again. I've been walking around in the cold either in a light shirt or no shirt. Finally I can wear clothes again! On top of this Mouth Issue 2 has arrived. It seems to have an abundance of small mistakes, but I don't care. There were always going to be mistakes and whilst it's not great news, I've worked too hard and I like it too much to let it affect me. Mouth Online went live today too and you can check it here:

http://riveronline.co.uk/09/mouth

You can also do us the favour of becoming a fan on Facebook here:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/MOUTH-ONLINE/326490858737?ref=nf

All in all. Well good day.

Ace.

ET was a wrinkly litter child molester

I posted yesterday regarding having watched some fantastic films over the last few days, and a comment I made in passing has actually stuck in my mind since then. ET, yes that wrinkled little thing with the glowing fingertips, was a blatant child molester.

This....thing, turns up and starts hiding in piles of childrens toys. Next thing you know he's in the house, playing with the kids. I'm not going to go into the plot of ET here because it's time consuming and you all know it anyway - but this extra terrestrial pedophile wanders round extending his elongated, glowing finger to children and touching them. Why did he take Elliott to the woods with him anyway? Ask yourselves. "Phone home". That bastard pretended not to know any of the English language but when it came to getting rid of his victims, he knew enough didn't he.

So yeah, ET is a kiddy-fiddler.

He can keep his dirty anal probe (or glowing finger) to himself in future.

If I ever have any kids (and reading this you're all willing me not to), I'm never letting them watch ET.
Filth.