This version of Somewhere over the rainbow is my guilty pleasure. How old is this child?

The video is pants, obviously.

Earlier this evening, I ate dinner at Bi Won, a little Korean restaurant near the British Museum. Whenever I go to to a Korean BBQ place, I notice how disconcertingly quiet the staff and the atmosphere is. Bi Won is no different and eating there was like at a library till a table of the loudly obnoxious people came in. Wow. Asshats. A screamingly loud Austrian was insulting all his friends and booming about this small restaurant. Noticing me at the next table, tap, tapping away, he loudly asks ‘does anyone have an iPhone charger, mine is dead’.  Yes, I carry mine around with me, waiting to power up total strangers’ mobiles.

He was rivalled only by his utterly pretentious friend who kept asking the only Korean girl in the group about what to order. Then asking louder and slower, going ’spicy, no, hello?’ like she was deaf. Christ, they were awful. A group of friends presumably, but none of them seemed to particularly like each other or appear to be having a good time. Fortunately I got to leave, unlike them.

Have you ever used Korean chopsticks? Two super thin and slippery metal sticks. Nightmare. Why on earth were they invented? Seems like a joke on Westeners who struggled to learn to use the fat regular ones.

Since I posted previously about my N79 epic photo taking capabilities, I thought I’d post a sample shot from the iPhone in comparison.

Stop laughing.

I’d heard that the camera on the iPhone was bad, but sweet God of focus, EVERYTHING comes out blurry. Why Jobs, why?

IFail, I mean iPhone. And this is one of the clearer photos taken at Highgate Cemetery.

N79

Today’s Song of the Day comes from this week’s Yelp playlist

The Push Stars ‘Any little town’ http://open.spotify.com/track/5YlbSyUFLuaPFPyywci4NA

I listen to a  lot of random music all day, on the tube, at work to drown out colleagues and at home, so songs are usually fighting against all my other distractions. The Song of the Day choice is generally something that stops me in my tracks long enough for me to think ‘what the hell is this’. Tonight it was ‘Any little town’, which initially sounds to me like The Divine Comedy. A nice piece of pop fluff to take the edge off the evening.

I also really enjoy any song that starts with ‘a little drunk is better than death, when it’s strapping you down inside your own head’.

‘Drunk is better than dead’

http://open.spotify.com/track/0zWSyE8CidnvFnYtDYUymL

There’s just something about Scottish bands.. it’s not just the accent, although I could listen to this guy sing in my ear all day. A nation of pies and fighters, football nationalism and passion, the Scots are tough, they’ll have you and yer ma too.

Like the nation itself, they seem a no-nonsense, down to earth sort. You can more easily imagine them getting into a scrap after the gig than shoving coke up their nose and running about with no knickers on.

Wake the President are a very different kettle of fish from Glasvegas, who you feel have been dragged up from childhood by the scruff of their necks and are still fairly damaged by it.

Wake the President’s music is more subtle, indie elegant tones than the ear bleeding, heart ripping out of your chest alt. rock of Glasvegas.

With songs like ‘Remember Fun’ and ‘You can’t change that boy’, Wake the President are upbeat and indulgent, their focus on sex, masturbation and the after effects of a good time.

For a little background on Wake the President, this is very good. http://www.magicmarkerrecords.com/wakethepresident.html

Glasvegas ‘Daddy’s Gone’ http://open.spotify.com/track/5Xkht48NOI9eirHjY7d87I

Wake the President ‘Just give me two secs’ http://open.spotify.com/track/2kDG8xXyMI7Qs9sC65dDUt

Guy in my office looks totally like Doc, one of more sinister Buffy villains. He walks around with that slightly manic ‘ I may or may not be a serial killer’ look in his eyes. This was only mildly disturbing until he spoke and I discovered that he was German, so German that he could be in one of those ham-fisted American war movies with a Hitler ‘tasch and a loathing for everything good and pure, like Mom’s apple pie and freedom.

I may have to report him to HR, surely this is workplace intimidation somehow…

Have decided to abandon the whole food blog concept, since I do all my restaurant reviews over at Yelp London now. They buy me a lot of free booze and indulge my crazy mutterings, so the least I can do is write some half-literate content for them.

But now not even Twitter can contain my violent bursts of insanity and randomness, so it’s all going here now. Stay tuned for songs of the day, lyrics I like and anything else I care to share with the nobody that reads this crap.

If anyone used to read me, but got annoyed cos I’m so lazy, please come back…

Looking at Gumtree every day causes a black hole of despair for the hope of humanity.

People seem to believe that sharing a bottle of wine together bonds flatmates… Let me tell you about the countless bottles of wine consumed in my presence  by an ex-flatmate and the accusations and tearful life secrets that followed. Like an episode of Springer.

Is it really advisable, in an ad for a flat, to say that they have a few ‘un-official’ residents? So it’s a commune then?

And in the same ad, to say they have had to get a cleaning lady to solve a few hygiene problems. Sounds amazing, when can I move in?

Many, many people believe themselves to be creative and are seeking other like-minded creative types. One ad described themselves as into ’slow food, Kurt Vonnegut and Spanish films’. If people were really as creative as they believe, we’d be stuck in a perpetual Renaissance period.

There must be a huge demand in the market for brown velvet couches and black leather couches. Note to self: new business venture?

People in Brick Lane have no living rooms. How sad. Must be why they clog up the streets with their pretentious, twat behaviour.

Apparently you can go to Speed Flatmate nights, where presumably you meet and mingle with these people and go home with a suitable new flatmate. Can anyone see where that might go wrong?

When an ad describes ‘two working girls’ looking for a fun, male flatmate and shows a picture of said girls, instead of room, it is almost a given that it is an ad for sex. http://www.gumtree.com/london/85/43403485.html

Estate agents are liars.

There are a lot of weirdos out there and I am certain that I am more afraid of them than they are of me.

The word ‘near’ is grossly misused.

And the realisation that soon I will be living in a cardboard box.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2009/aug/10/manners-ettiquette-sharing-food

So it’s not good manners to share food eh. Oh dear, I knew I’d never be invited to Buckingham Palace, but I didn’t think that leaning over and forking up some of the Duke’s mash would be my downfall.  People ‘clearly just not feeling comfortable with such intimacy’.  Is this a British thing? Maybe it’s the people I hang out with having absolutely no fear of ‘germs’ or good manners, but eating off each other’s plates seems to be de rigueur. Of course they’ll preface it by saying ‘ah we’re all friends here’.

But I’ve friends of ten years that I would never dream to eat off their plate. Actually I would dream of it and have sat there, dying to reach over and grab something particularly tasty. But I don’t, why? Probably because I fear that they were better brought up than me and would be horrified by my appalling crassness.

Growing up with my sister gave me a little insight into how these people feel. She would wilfully grab a chip from your dinner plate and then swipe it through your ketchup… the feeling of violation still gives me the creeps. If you’re stealing chips, dip them in your own ketchup, don’t plate rape me.

Clearly in my house there were no rules about elbows on the table or drinking water and eating at the same time. I have heard stories from upper class friends of having their dinner whipped away for the slightest transgression. Nowadays that Jamie Oliver ideal of sharing food and eating family style is trying to eradicate these ‘good’ manners and I love it. Enjoying eating out is all about trying what everyone else is having, if you’re stuck to just eating your own dinner,  how can you ever educate your palate?

Now, are you going to finish that?

Have you seen these ads in the Metro? I think they’re wonderful. Look at all these talented spiritual guides coming to London to help out the good people here. 47 years experience, talented since birth… what more could you ask for? Seems a bit unusual that so many of these ‘healers’ have flocked to the city, maybe we are just crying out for help more than all those fortunate African people.

No matter how difficult your problem is, Mr Madiba, a gifted African spiritual healer can help. Thank God, because Mr Madiba I’ve played a bit fast and loose with the company’s finances and I could really use your help.

If you are thinking I’m worried these kindly men might turn out to be total shysters and steal my money, never fear. They allow you to pay after you get positive results. Yes, I’m sure that’s true.