The horse

Becky's Irreverant Take on...

...Cake

To give you an idea of how my brain is working at the moment, this is the word association that went on in my head when I started to think about cake.

Cake > the last time I ate cake > Jane's mum's sample cake > wedding cake > weddings > my wedding > eep so much to do!!

In fact, I think I could play Six Degrees of Wedding Panic with virtually any word you care to mention at the moment. Go on, try me!

...the Best Tranny Movies Ever

Look, I answered this question some time ago! This project was abandoned due to obvious vote rigging (the Matrix is still NOT a tranny movie!) and the fact that I'm actually not that good at reviewing films. I collated all the votes and gave you the top ten, Perhaps I should sweet-talk Mariana into doing proper write-ups for each film, as she's great at that kind of thing. ;-)

...how I pick still life photos

I'm not a photographer, I don't have a set of lenses that cost more than a family car, and I don't drop focal lengths and apertures into casual conversation. When I bought my trusty Canon 350D a couple of years ago, with it's entry-level DSLR spec and standard lens kit, it suited me down to a tee. It does everything I want, and nothing I can't handle. I could spend a small fortune on better lenses and other kit, but my skills just don't warrant it.

Despite not being one myself, I do think I know what goes into being a great photographer. There are 2 simple rules:

1) Take lots and lots of pictures.

2) Only show your best.

The mistake that I think a lot of amatuer photographers make is showing everything they do, when actually one great picture is worth 1000 average ones. All I really do (and it's debatable if there's any skill in it) is take pictures of things that interest me, and occasionally slap them on Flickr. But that's no different from anyone else, is it?

Never seen together

Does anyone else's trannydar start misfiring when they watch the new series of "What Not to Wear" on BBC1?

Mica Paris, while looking incredible, is really reminding me of a star of one of my guilty pleasures, the film "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar".

Or is it just me?

Wedding 2.0

The wedding invites have started landing on people's doormats today. I've borrowed the title of this post from one recipient, who emailed me to amusedly point out that this wedding uses virtually every Web 2.0 service there is.

I hadn't really thought about it, but yeah, guilty as charged. :-)

We used web applications quite a bit...

The photograph on the invite cards (see above) was imagined by Jane, photographed by me, uploaded to Flickr and printed by Moo. The information sheet inside includes a link to a custom Google Map showing the locations of all the venues and local hotels, written as a succinct TinyURL, as Google Map permalinks are a bit too long to type in!

Some people even get a little Moo sticker of the same design on the back of the envelope!

The wedding gift list is also available online, if guests want to partake, via John Lewis's Gift List system. Which took a lot of the stress out of the whole thing... well, for me and Jane anyway!

Behind the scenes, Jane and I have also made heavy use of Google's services, including Google Calendar to keep track of what needs doing when (or, more often, who needs paying when!), and there's a spreadsheet on Google Docs that's keeping a record of the list of attendees, the budget, and more!

I'm a great believer in not using "technology for technology's sake", which might sound a bit unusual coming from someone who's bread and butter is in computing. But I think when you work in IT, and regularly come across people trying to force technological solutions to problems that don't need them, you inevitably become a bit of a technology agnostic. Part of my job is saying to people "are you sure you wouldn't be better off writing this on a scrap of paper?".

I'm quite happy writing stuff on a scrap of paper when it's quicker than firing up a spreadsheet, but in this case I think that it's been very worthwhile making use of the techologies available. Putting the wedding budget online, for example, has meant that I can tinker with it during lunchtimes at work. Both Jane and I have access to it from more or less anywhere, without having to carry around a dog-eared bits of paper like Norfolk's answer to Earl Hickey.

On the day, we're doing without the services of a professional photographer (the budget wouldn't stretch), and relying on guests to share any pictures they take via a Flickr group created for the purpose.

Which reminds me, we need to make some cards with the details of the Flickr group to hand out to guests on the day ... back to Moo!

An Atom feed of Jane and Simon's wedding is available at: www.oknowyouregoingtofar.com

Getting back on the blogging horse

I've not blogged for a week, which is probably about the longest I've ever gone (what I really need is an overly-obsessive Becksweb fan who could confirm that fact, preferably in a John Motson voice), and it's getting hard to get into the mental space where I want to blog.

I realised some time ago that Giving Good Blog isn't about having something interesting to say, it's thinking you have something interesting to say, and then saying it. At the moment the part of my brain which filters through my thoughts and experiences and earmarks potential blog material seems not to be working. Things are still happening (as Things are wont to do) but nothing that I feel worth blogging about.

The "general writing" part of my brain seems to be on overdrive, possibly due to the blog not using up it's energies. For example, I bored the false tits off Siobhan this morning in a long email about "Why I Stopped Being a Moderator on Trannyflickr" (short version: because most of the people on Flickr are morons), and the lucky few who are invited to the wedding will shortly be receiving an invite and a sizeable information leaflet penned by my fair hand; but when it comes to blogging anything... meh. Meh to the power of 10.

Basically I've fallen off the blogging horse, and I need you (thats right, you!) to help me get back on. What would you like me to write about? Have you ever thought "gee-whizz, I'd sure like to hear Becky's irreverant take on that person/situation/event/thing/other"? Well now's your chance!

All suggestions will be seriously considered. Possibly ignored, but seriously considered. Look, I'm using my serious face:

:o|

That's how serious I am!

Blue Neon Electric Fly Killer Things

You don't seem to see them about so much these days, but in the seventies and eighties they used to be everywhere. Perhaps they just stuck in my mind more at an early age, because a lot of them seemed to be called "Simon", which (if you haven't yet guessed) is my real name, "Becky" is just what the French call a nom d'aiglefin.

It seemed weird that the Blue Neon Electric Fly Killer Thing manufacturer named their product "Simon", after all you don't see many men's names used for electrical goods. There isn't, for example, a range of fridges called "Dave". In fact the only exception I can think of is "Beko" appliances, named after the noted South African anti-apartheid activist (as sung about by Peter Gabriel and played by Phil Silvers on TV).

But maybe I've found the reason. The flies and other buzzy things aren't attracted to their certain 240 volt doom by the soothing blue glow of the neon tubes, they are attracted to things called Simon. The manufacturers of Electric Fly Killer Things know this mystical power and named their products Simon to take advantage of it. The neon light is just there to make you think that's what the insects are interested in, because no-one's going to pay for an electic box with "Simon" written on the side of it. Think about it: where are insects going to see blue neon lights in the wild, anyway? They're interested in things like flowers, raw meat, cow dung, and as a particular delicacy (when they can get it) me.

You see, insects find me enormously attractive. Specifically the kind of insect that likes nothing more than spending half an hour indulging in an al-fresco feast of O positive in the delightful environs of my right ankle.

You know that person at an outdoor party that gets stung to death by the entire local mosquito population, while everyone else gets left alone? That's me. I'm thinking of hiring myself out. I'm great for riverside barbecues, just feed me and I'll do the job of 10 electric boxes with blue lights in all evening.

I wouldn't mind so much if the mosquito bites stung immediately, so that the culprit could be politely dissuaded with the palm of a hand moving in at breathtaking and deadly speed. I also wouldn't mind at all if, after they've taken their fill, the mosquito departed and left me totally unaffected apart from an inperceptable reduction in blood pressure.

But they don't do that. After landing unobserved, applying that local anaesthetic mojo thing they have, and then slurping undisturbed for a few minutes, they then take off and fly past my face, looking considerably fatter and wearing a smug "that's going to hurt like hell in half an hour, mate" expression.

Which it invariably does. Like hell. As well as being a magnet to the bloody things, I'm also more than a little allergic to their bites. About five minutes after being stung on the thigh, my whole leg feels weird. And then the sting starts to itch, and then sting like billy-o. Despite my best intentions not to scratch, I'll wake up in the middle of the night to find I've unconciously scraped away at all of them in my sleep.

But why? Why do they hurt so much afterwards? What possible evolutionary purpose could it serve? I can't make the bite go away, so what's the good in my body telling me that I've been bitten after the fact? Conversely, why do mosquitos put something in their bites that is designed to itch and sting so much? What do they get out of me being miserable several hours after they've buzzed off to ankles new? It's just their sheer bloody-minded evilness if you ask me.

I'm thinking of changing my name. Not the "Simon" one, that would require forms and actual effort and stuff; and anyway I think the insects would see right through that ploy. Tranny names, like number plates, are a bit easier to change. I've decided to rename myself Becky "All You Can Eat" Buffét, which keeps the pseudo-French flavour of my original surname, with an extra twist. If you can't avoid them, you might as well advertise.

Things I am not. Number 1: A secretary

The following happens to me about once a week. The bits that I've modified slightly from reality (to protect the innocent and for creative licence) are marked in bold.

[Phone rings, I answer it.]

Me: Hello.

Caller: Hello, is Tom there?

Me: Sorry, he's out of the office at the moment.

Caller: Oh, could you take a message?

Me: Sure. I'll email it to him.

Caller: Thanks. Message commences. Chapter one. Dear Tom, regarding you email of half an hour ago, I write to confirm that...

Me: Hang on, you're replying to an email he sent you?.

Caller: Yep.

Me: So you want me to take dictation of an email, and then write it and send it to Tom, when you could, actually, press the handy "reply" button at the top of your screen and write the email yourself?

Caller: Er, yes.

Me: I think you're mistaking my role here. Whilst I work next to Tom, and I'm quite happy to pass small morsels of information to him on his return from brief absences, I'm not, in any shape or form, his secretary. And, more importantly, I'm not your f*cking secretary either. Farewell!

...

Er... you'll notice the bold areas started to take over towards the end. I'm a lot more polite. I didn't actually say any of that.

But I could! I'm a tranny on the edge! :-)

How I* put Brighton on the map

*And probably a Google employee called Davo.

Remember a couple of months ago I mentioned that Brighton was mysteriously absent from Google Maps?

Well, it's reappeared.

Just waiting for my letters of thanks from the people of Brighton... maybe the key to the city... ticker tape parade...

What I did do this weekend

Despite the aborted dressing-up attempt, I did have a fairly productive weekend. I...

Watched some of the Stephen Fry Weekend on BBC4
Stephen Fry has been a personal hero since my teens. It's kind of annoying to find out he's so many other people's hero too.


Wrote wedding invitations
Well, watched Jane writing wedding invitations, her handwriting is better than mine. I also realised that my memory for names really doesn't stretch much further than next of kin, so now I've got a long list of unknown cousin's wives to attempt to fill in the blanks on. People apparently don't like getting invitations addressed to "Steve and that Northern bint he married".


Bought a Camcorder
For the wedding, and for the honeymoon, and for general pissing about with. I've managed to keep a lid on my Gadget Hunger for about eighteen months, but I was really starting to get the itch for something small and shiny that goes "ping" to play with. I'm quite impressed that I lasted this long.

After extensive research (sitting in Costa with a video magazine and a couple of catalogs), we decided to go for a Sony Mini-DV Handycam. DV might be on the way out as far as technology goes, but as an established (and therefore cheap) format, it offers the most bang for your buck. Hard drive based camcorders look nice, and are definitely the In Thing, but apparently they don't match the quality of DV yet. And I can't see the point, personally, of DVD camcorders when you've got a PC that's perfectly capable of burning your video to DVD when you're ready.


Played with iLife '08
The latest version of Apple's suite of "lifestyle" software. I like the minor but useful improvements to iPhoto, and iDVD is fantastic for knocking together home-made video and slideshow DVDs.

iMovie is also great, although according to some online reviewers not as great as iMovie '06 (which I never used). Still, it does everything I want it for: chucking clips together and adding sound and titles, in a very elegant way, so I'm not complaining. If I wanted more I'd invest in a more meaty video editor, which I think is what some of the iMovie '08 detractors need to do.

GarageBand (why don't they call it something to fit the "i" theme? "iTunes", maybe?) is pretty groovy, I just have the musical talent of a stoned hedgehog so I'm not going to get much use out of it.

And I've not touched iWeb, but then again, does anybody?


Window-shopped for clothes
Has anyone else noticed the recent and distinct improvement in high-street fashion? The large geometric patterns and lurid floral prints that have dominated the racks of Next and Top Shop forever seem at last to be on the way out. Which is great because I they make me (and anyone else bigger than a size 10) look like a 1970's caravan that's been turned inside-out.

In their place I'm seeing a lot more punky stuff in black with funky details and slogans. In short, Becky's kinda clothes. So on Sunday we...


Went clothes shopping in Next
Who, it turned out, are still desperately trying to flog the Seventies-caravan-curtains-ware, despite the apparent fashion sea-change. So I bought a pair of linen trousers and a linen shirt. Which was nice.

Houston, we have a problem

T Minus 60 Minutes
Errrr it's a lovely day here in Becky's brain command centre. Winds are errrrr light southwesterly, perfect conditions for a dressing-up and makeup session and we're looking forward to a hitch-free launch... Roger that left brain, right brain standing by.

T Minus 30 Minutes
...Errrrr we're getting a lot of fuzz here, right brain, could we get an errrr ETA for the shaving... Yes control, subject is beginning to shave now, we're looking at about 5 minutes until completion ... roger that.

T Minus 20 Minutes
..Becky is reporting that she has "nothing to wear", repeat "nothing to wear", over ... Roger that. Errrr I suggest checking clothes stashes 3 to 7

T Minus 10 Minutes
Errrrr can I get a confirmation on the tranny levels? I'm getting some strange readings here... Confirm that, tranny levels do seem to be dropping, may be just a faulty sensor, I'll look into it...

T Minus 1 Minutes
It's looking better here, we've got errrrr all of the clothes in place, system check... boobs... check... hair .... here ... makeup ... check... okay we're go for main makeover...

T minus 10 seconds
Main tranny engine start...

9
Err... these tranny levels...

8
...they're not looking good...

7
This is eyebrow control...

6
...eyebrows are not plucked repeat NOT plucked...

5
...tranny levels are bottoming out...

4
Err we're going to need to abort...

3
Abort abort, cancel makeover...

---

(Launch re-scheduled for "when Becky feels more like it")

Super Becki Chan

Very much like the Queen, I'm regularly asked to pose for portraits. This one (by Helena Love for Colour Me Sick), was taken just before I stormed off in a huff when she asked me to put a tiara on*.

(Under my new zero-tolerance truth and honesty guidelines I have now fired myself from writing this blog).

Porn

Disconnection

I'm in a curiously non-blogging mood (which started, admittedly, in about January), partly because there's nothing I want to to blog about, and partly because there's nothing I can blog about.

The curse of having being steadily more "out" as a blogger (oh yeah, and mustn't forget "out" as a tranny too) is that each expansion of readership into a new group of friends/family/peers represents a contraction of the things you can actually blog about.

For example, I used to feel free to blog about what goes on at my workplace. Then that got knocked on the head when I was outed at work, and told in no uncertain terms that whilst being a tranny was okay, blogging about the things that go on in an IT department in a hospital wasn't. So that was one source of occasionally interesting blog posts curtailed.

And I used, from time to time, to blog about how I was feeling inside about stuff. Jane, through no fault of her own, has stopped me from doing that. I'm just not comfortable with sharing thoughts and feelings with my readers that I wouldn't be happy sharing with her first.

My life is full of stuff at the moment. The wedding is the big showy headline-grabber, but there's also stuff to do with preparing and selling houses, finances, work, basically day-to-day living, which if I managed to make half as tedious in a blog post as I actually find it personally would still make for extremely dull reading.

That bundle of clothes and layer of slap and prostheses that I anthropomorphise as "Becky", has done what she normally does. I.e. fit in the spaces left that aren't filled with other things. And as my life seems to be filled to the brim with other things at the moment, Becky remains quietly in the shadows. I have to force myself to make time for her, which sometimes feels like an exercise in futility in itself.

Ho, and indeed, hum.

I think I need to take some advice that I've often given to other tranny bloggers (albeit muttered unheard at the screen rather than to their faces).

Becky... you need to get out more.

I need to re-connect. Re-engage with why Becky is important to me. She's important to me not because she's dresses up in girly clothes (although that's a big thing), she's important to me because she's the me that doesn't have to worry about work, or finances, or weddings, or even Jane.

(And if anyone takes this to mean that "Becky is free to mess around at Jane's expense", then they're deeply wrong. Put it this way: Becky does worry about Jane, she just doesn't have to, because Simon takes care of it).

It should be easy, because Becky's needs are quite simple. A short skirt, a dancy tune and a fizzy alcoholic drink will keep her happy for ages.

Sod it if "real life" things get put on hold for a while. I need to get in touch once more with my Inner Tranny.

Conspiracy Rhymes

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King's Horses,
and all the King's Men,
made it look like an accident.
Because Humpty was pregnant with the King's baby.


Hey diddle diddle,
the cat and the fiddle.
The cow didn't jump over the moon.
It was all faked in a studio,
to get one up on the commies.


Who killed Cock Robin?
"I," said the Sparrow,
"with my bow and arrow."
Rather too convenient,
don't you think?
It was actually the mole,
on the grassy knoll.


Old MacDonald had a farm
E.I.E.I.O.
And on that farm he had a cow,
mutilated by aliens.


Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Grew worse on Friday,
Faked his death on Saturday,
I saw him last Sunday,
Buying a Quarter Pounder.


Ring a ring o' roses,
a pocket full of posies.
Attishoo! Attishooo!
We all fall down.
Apart from the Illuminati,
who have all been vaccinated.

"More turbans than you could stick a sheikh in"

I invented this phrase at lunchtime, and I personally think it is about the third most witty thing anyone has ever thought of.

Now I'm just waiting for the perfect situation to come along so I can say it, and be instantly named the Oscar Wilde of my generation.

Um...

Does anyone work at a turban factory?