Okay, you can stop texting now

To cut a long story short, I'm not at Sparkle this year. The relevant equation is

M + F + N + T < S

where

M = spare funds after recent hols
F = number of old friends I was hoping to see
N = number of new friends I was hoping to meet
T = my level of general trannieness.
S = Sparkle worthwhileness

Hope everyone going has a whale of a time without us. :-)

Why blog when you can watch telly?

So yeah, no apologies for lack of bloggage, I'm just gonna crack on.

Who's watching Gok's Fashion Fix? Perfect tranny telly, if you ask me. Fronted by one of my favourite people on telly, the man for whom the phrase "you go girlfriend!" was invented, Gok Wan. Any man who can get away with pretending to be gay* just so he can play with ladies knockers is worthy of hero worship. And in this new series he's paired with another up-and-coming personal favourite Alexa Chung. Her quirky slightly-blokish femininity makes her an almost perfect mirror of Gok.

In other telly news, has anyone been following the saga of the ad by Heinz that was pulled for being too gay?

I was amazed, I'd seen the ad and thought it had real charm, especially as it credited the viewer with a bit of intelligence "we're not saying why this man is in the place of the mother of the family, work it out yourself". The people who complained must have been morons, and Heinz are cowards for pulling it. We live in a country where gay partnerships are now enshrined in law, can't we show two men kissing pre-watershed? Especially as anyone with an ounce of sense would work out that it wasn't a gay kiss. I'm not surprised that there's been a huge backlash against Heinz by gay and online communities.

Perhaps that's what Heinz realised would happen, and knew that people like me would blog about it. Even so, that's a pretty crummy way to sell onion-flavoured mayonnaise.

*Well that's my theory, and I'm sticking to it.

You Aren't Here

This Local Information board has been outside my local Tescos for some time, but it was only the other day I actually paid it any attention, and noticed that the street map of King's Lynn bears absolutely no relation to the layout of my home town whatsoever.

A bit of research has shown that this is in fact a map of Andover in Hampshire. I just feel sorry for anyone trying use it to find their way around!

How to have a romantic evening on the cheap

I felt in the need for a bit of a romantic treat on Friday, but what with the recent (and surprisingly expensive) holiday, and general outgoings around house sales, money's too tight to mention...

Oh money money money money
Cutbacks!

...shut it Hucknall! No, for romantic suggestions for the Casanova on a budget, I always turn an altogether smoother (and far less ginger) crooner. Take it away, Nat!

Let there be you,
Let there be me.

Yeah well, that's kind of a given. Self love is, undeniably, a cheap option, but I'm looking for the two-person version.

Let there be oysters

Shit, really? I hate seafood.

Under the sea.

Phew. Best place for them, in my opinion.

Let there be wind,
An occassional rain.

Look Nat, I'm after romance, not the bleedin' weather forecast.

Chilli con carne,
Sparkling champagne.

NOW you're talking!

And so it was, a quick trip down the supermarket for the ingredients for a top notch chilli con carne, a bottle of champers and a lovely orchid plant as a gift, and I had the makings of a great night in. Add to that a brilliant episode of Doctor Who (to snuggle during the scary bits), a judicious sprinkling of candles, and a woo campaign of military precision ensued. I scare myself sometimes. :-)

A World, Softer

Okay so I hunted through the A Softer World archive trying to find for you the fantastic strip from today's Guardian (which was like a FictionMania Magical Transformation tranny story mixed with brutal reality, or maybe not tranny at all, I can't decide. Did you see it?)

I can't find it, but I did find this one and this one which both have a trans twist, and are both brilliant.

A Softer World rocks, lesson ends.

And my HIPs don't lie

I arrived home on Thursday to find a brightly-coloured "For Sale" sign emblazoning my house. It wasn't entirely a surprise, I'd been told that the "sign man" would be coming some time soon, and would either put the sign prominently above the arch that goes under my house, or tucked in next to my front door within the arch itself "depending on whether he's got his ladder with him or not."

He obviously didn't have his ladder because it's tucked in next to the front door, within an archway which serves a small shared parking area. So until my house starts turning up in the usual publications, the current advertising is highly targeted at market demographic consisting of me and my four neighbours.

I bought my house brand new, from the builders, which means this is my first experience of the much-maligned British Estate Agent. Twice over in fact, because we're selling Jane's house at the same time. Two Estate Agents, two solicitors, and two HIPs.

If you're of foreign persuasion and not aware of HIPs, no they're not the scrupulously honest bony projection of the femur so beloved of Shakira, they're a special document that every house in England has to have before you're allowed to flog it. A "Home Information Pack" tells the prospective buyer how energy efficient it is, how likely it is to collapse, that kind of thing. Ignore the fact that no-one really cares whether the Tudor mansion they've set their heart on has cavity wall insulation, the government has decided HIPs are A Good Thing. Which probably means that someone who put a lot of money in their coffers told them HIPs are A Good Thing, and are now making a lot of money in return for little more than sending around a little man to look at your loft insulation. But hey, I don't do politics.

A Sparkle Spotter's Guide 2008

With the holiday out of the way, I realise that Sparkle is fast approaching and I need to get my finger out and start organising things. Or, even better, avoid organising things with pointless procrastination.

Such as...

I realise it's been a couple of years since my last Sparkle Spotter's Guide, so I thought I'd a 2008 supplement.

As before, bring it along on during the weekend, and check off everyone you spot. It's that easy!

The Grumpy Princess

From the neck down she's a fantastically bright and frivilous concoction of frills, bows, twiddly bits and sparkles. Face like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle.

No one quite knows why the gayness (in it's old fashioned sense of light-hearted joyousness) of a frock is directly in proportion to the apparent sullenness of the tranny wearing it, but it's probably something to do with balancing out the happiness of the universe.

Common behaviours:

1. Staring disinterestedly into the middle distance.

2. Smoking whilst staring disinterestedly into the middle distance.

3. Drinking whilst staring disinterestedly into the middle distance.

Spotted:          Date & Time:                            Location:

Last Generation Tranny

Don't be fooled by the title, generations in tranny terms last only about 5 years. Just enough time for the tranny involved to burst onto the scene, spend a few years using up all their pent-up girliness, get a bit "famous", and then begin to get bored with the whole thing. They still come along to the big events, but it's obvious that their heart isn't in it any more.

Most likely to say:

1. "Of course in my day we only had Trans-Mission and the Boudoir."

2. "What do you mean you've never heard of my blog?"

3. "I am big! It's the tranny scene that got small!"

Spotted:          Date & Time:                            Location:

The Young and Far Too Beautiful Drag Queen

They're nothing to do with Sparkle, they're just turned up on Canal Street because that's what they do most weekends anyway. And they're not that bothered about dressing up en-femme, it's just something that they do, incredibly well and seemingly without effort (unlike most of the envious tranny throng that have descended around them for the weekend).

Hated because:

1. They look too good.

2. They know they look too good.

3. Dammit, why don't they have all the hang ups about dressing up like a proper tranny does!?

Spotted:          Date & Time:                            Location:

The Ancient Admirer

You get the feeling he was probably something big in ICI until he retired in the 1970s, and apparently decided to spend his remaining years and pension hanging around with a bunch of trannies. Usually sporting glasses and a hearing aid of such a dated design you secretly wonder if he's actually a tranny admirer at all and if he had his prescriptions checked he'd suddenly realise what kind of clubs he was going to and why the gaggle of fillies who throng around him have always been so incredibly grateful and accommodating.

Spotted:          Date & Time:                            Location: