Last night ... I dreamed somebody ... EEEEUUUWWWW!!!

In my case, I don't know. I think selective amnesia may have its advantages.

Also Nigella Lawson. She sat me down on a big blue sofa, gave me chocolate cake and then kissed me. No where near as bad as Fred Durst, just mildly surprising.

I think Kate has an even better one than that, eww. But she's lost control again (hint).

yes, i once had a dream that i had sex with ian curtis and my mother walked in. ian turned around and shook his full used spunk receptacle at my mother, who screamed and ran from the room.

i am actually contemplating developing a sick, disgusting, and intensely disturbing crush on j. casablancas under the deluded idea that it would be fun to have such a self abasing and degrading sexual dementia. or, erm, maybe i'm just bored or something.

but think of all the things we have in common... (it's the lemsip talking, i tells ya...)

i think this is a brilliant idea. someone talk me out of it, please.

Oh, Rosemary.

Oh no! I still haven't got round to ebaying their first single yet. I was hoping it might bring me untold riches to compensate for the shame of owning it in the first place (I blame friend TK, for no particular reason except that he asked if I had an opinion on them because the NME was hyping them and I couldn't bear not to have an opinion yet, and also my habit of buying every new release 7" which looked even vaguely promising, which means I now have shedloads of really REALLY dire singles that I probably can't even give away).

But it couldn't really be a good sign that them writing two new songs was such a rare occurrence that it made front cover news of the NME.

there's such a tiny window of opportunity with these publicity blowjob novelty hype bands, and if you miss it, yer screwed.

hell, the nme would report it as a news story if one of them got a new haircut. i just can't wait until the lame white indie boy fro is out of style again...

Ha ha, actually the WORST part of the Dubya dream was that I've had that dream TWICE.

i am EXTREMELY upset that suzy is making me miss the first half hour of the blessed TIME TEAM in order to watch bloody stenders. i live in an extended episode of stenders, why do i have to watch it on the tv? ESPECIALLY when time team (arrrr, this is clearrrrrly dirrrrt) is over on c4.

so i shall spend the entire length of stenders searching for extremely unattractive pictures of 'joolz' c. my future husband.

look, i am posing with BOOKS in order to appeal more to my future wife, kate. do you think it will WURK?!?!?

http://www.thestrokes.com/photos/5c/5c31.jpg

http://www.thestrokes.com/photos/pola/pola7.jpg

i'm going to lie down and throw a strop (and show my spare tire) until she marries me!

http://www.thestrokes.com/photos/5c/5c44.jpg

(I really think i've caught a contact buzz, this is more than overdose on lemsip lunacy...)

can we put joolz on the missy elliot diet? do you think the nme would run whole articles about that?

Too much stuff swhirling around in my head, and too many things happening at once. Fact of coinciding with fear of bad reviews means a lot, considering Strokes are a band I've slagged off more than any other band in the world. Maybe this is a "everybody's trash to somebody, baby" lesson in humility. Maybe Joolz symbolises my naked lust for fame and success and I'm trying to recconcile myself with this. It's also no accident that he keeps showing up in my dreams at the same time that my brother reappears IRL, so maybe it's part symbolic hatred of/attempt to recconcile with those aspects of my family background that I loathe the most. Not to mention the fact that my trust fund finally hit empty exactly the day of our record release party, cueing swearing at bank tellers screaming "come ON - please clear this publishing check, I've got a record release party tomorrow!" In the dream last night, Joolz' Red Stripe shirt read "Trustafarai and Red Stripe" so maybe all Suzy's ribbing is starting to actually hit home.

God, why don't Freud and Jung have subchapters about the subtexts of what certain popstars appearing in your dreams mean? Pop stars are the new heroes and gods, the new archetypes, the new silver screens for projection of our own personalities.

I think I'm going to email my brother.

(lock the door this time...)

(I, too hated Suede when they first came out.. probably becuase I worked in a record store and couldn't get away from the hypometer. The moment I actually *heard* them, I fell in love. The diametric opposite of the Strokes, who I heard and hated way before the hype ever reached me... so there!)

http://www.thelollies.co.uk/heartbreak.jpg

It's not my fault the poor boy is pining for me. Pining, I tells ya, PINING!!!

http://www.nme.com/media/images/READING_strokes_julianA_L.jpg

My ass is smaller than that. Right, Suzy? Please reassure me...

I just randomly googled and found this story by a girl who actually eBayed a photo of Joolz' crotch. It was a good thing it was his crotch, and he was not turned around, because his ASS would have been so large it would not have fit on a single frame of film. No, not even panoramic view. The things you can find in google when you're bored...

Julian just seems...dopey. You'd think with his father doing all of those models he'd pull out something better from the gene pool than that.

You could make a lot of money off of Centaur-Ass children though! Kind of like Bat Boy.

http://home.freeuk.net/rattail2/pic18/lol705.jpg

And what, STANDING STOCK STILL HANGING ON MIC STAND FOR DEAR LIFE COZ YOU ARE TOO DRUNK TO MOVE = better stage move than KISS-style scissor kicks that let lecherous photographer blokes photograph your knickers?

Yeah, maybe where you come from, BETTER is a synonym for SHIT...

http://www.rockyhorror.com/images/meatloaf.jpg

Also Nigella Lawson. She sat me down on a big blue sofa, gave me chocolate cake and then kissed me.

If everybody could have this dream, the world would be a much better place.

Something about my whole flat is next morning sticky right now. My favourite bartender at Mother apologised for bouncer beating the crap out of me last time and gave me free drinks. Hooray. But the next morning is 48 hours later thanks to the help of nasty horrible stimulants, yuck. I've found Nuggets Volume 3 ... in the Yo La Tengo case, but the YLT CD is actually sealed inside my stereo with dried white russian stick, and I can't get it out. (CD player amazingly enough still works, like my brother's car stereo which got a Slowdive cassette stuck in it for an entire winter...) One of the Random Gay Boys, I believe, poured a white russian down my stereo because I yanked Peaches off and put YLT on instead. Poo! They left in a huff, and I actually persuaded a minicab driver to drive me all the way out to Cheshunt to see the house where I grew up, and back, for no apparent reason. And lay with teeth chattering and bad comedown paranoid, shaking in bed for three hours realising that I had to go to rehearsal trying to come up with reason that they shouldn't sack me, but the sympathy vote due to my extreme death hacking coughing fits worked in my favour, as did the fact that my voicebox being so torn out from bronchitis and nasty stimulants enabled me to howl TWEE MOTHERFUCKER during songs in wonderful Iggy Pop growl which cracked them up no end, especially when combined with random interspersals of my Paraplegic Cranberry Clinton (my blues name) impressions "Hack up a lung (DUR DER DUR DER) spit in in the bin (DUR DER DUR DER) I believe I'll go back home and start drinking AGIN" and so on and soforth until I had to huff at laughing bandmates and laughing studiohand that just you wait until my feted blues solo project with Yoko Casablancas, just see if I don't, huff! We'll call it Next Morning Sticky, see if we don't! The only reason I am not sacked is cause at least I make people laugh with my stupid pathetic rock'n'roll hyjinx... honestly ...

Does anyone know a really good way of getting dried white russian stick off CDs? Cause much as I love the album, I'd hate to have to listen to nothing else for the rest of time...

If it makes you feel better Kate, you were right to throw out the cd. You should sell it before its expirey date sometime early in the new year.

I didn't throw out the CD. Did I? I could have sworn I saw it this morning while in cleaning frenzy. Dammit, there can't be a backlash yet. That disc is my pension plan!

Do Canadians not take coke or something?

I'm now wondering about the Casablancass/CD spinning trick myself now. Hrmmmmmm.

My landlady just found another almost empty bottle of vodka downstairs and brought it up saying "Here, I think this is yours..." WEEX!!!

What happens if I google "julian casablancas ass"?

Just a debut out? Who are you talking about? I'm talking about that NYC-based three piece who write songs about ... erm ... scooby doo and cocaine, too. (I think it was them ... was it then? It's not even my social life and I can't keep up.)

I think it was them ... I can't imagine who else it would have been. Dunno, I'm not so sure now, and I'm spreading libellous rumours about the wrong popstar. The Peaches bit is true, though. ;-)

Can we go back to talking about JC's ass, please? (I'm not Jesus, but I have the same initials...)

Is it too early to go to bed yet?

GETCHAGETCHAGETCHAGETCHAGETCHAGETCHAGETCHAGETCHAGETCHAGETCHA!

Then again, if you wear leather trousers too much, the ass gets all stretched out anyway. I remember when I got mine, they were skintight and dead sexy and now they give me sagging Julianbutt which upsets me.

And if you think your ass sweats in leather trousers, you should try wearing totally vegan pleather trousers at a gig. I made the mistake of wearing a pair at our record release party, and my god, I sweat so much the damned things stuck to me! Never again! Never again!

Aaaaaaaasssssssss...

However, your musical logic = DEEPLY FLAWED. Having a fat ass is indication that you have not had the exercise of SHAKING THAT ASS. I used to have this singer who told me that she knew that we were "on it" when she felt like there was this special ray coming out of my bass which made her shake her ass. IE, when we were tight and we were grooving, her ass would twitch uncontrollably and the audience would fall about dancing and things would be good.

Ass-largeness is a sign of ass-shaking inactivity, therefore, the Strokes suck, as proved by SCIENCE.

Joolz will never inherit the earth (The Elite Modeling agency, maybe, but the earth? no.) But he can still inherit my ass...

In conclusion: the size of the ass you have may be connected to diet and activity, but whether you have an ass or not -- and whether it's pillowy or wide or bulging or crackless -- is another quality entirely.

You know what other singer from a popular New York rock band has a big ass? The guy from Interpol.

Indie-rock and ass-size hath no correlation in the way in which you are trying to imply.

Good ass comes from ass-shaking. (Oh, yes, and genetics. And walking, hence Me and Suzy's Walking Plan, which we seem to have forgotten this week.) And ass-shaking is the result of dancing to GOOD MUSIC.

(What am I on about? I LIKE boys with NO ASS. Maybe this is the point. Asslessness = good music, therefore the Strokes suck, and I should stop fancying Joolz no matter how hard I am trying to degrade myself and/or my sexuality.)

Good GOD, I need to get some sleep. I can't even form incoherant half-logic any more.

well I had to eat and I wasn't going to think about Joolz rump and my turkey sandwich at the same time.

How far is it from Back Bacon to ASS BACON??!?

Is it the TeenageUSA Teaches of Peaches ep? Im sure you could milk some poor German teen for it.

Nope, I'm not interested.

The idea of Joolz jism ... EEEUUUWWW!!! I'm grossing myself out again. This is really entertaining, see how far I can get into psyching myself out that I really do want to have sex with him, until I actually think about ... having to have sex with him, and getting all icked out. I like the concept of the crush a hell of a lot more than the idea of the execution thereof.