Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Scent of A (Giddy) Woman

I'm bored. Of my perfume, that is. I decided to make a change after more than a decade wearing the same scent.

I'm essentially a creature of habit driven by unadulterated laziness. Since the day a boyfriend came bearing gifts and I opened up my first bottle of Dune, I have worn that almost exclusively.

The smoky, heady musk of this perfume has trailed me everywhere despite my propensity for subtle potency and low sillage. At one point even my body lotions and shower gels were Dune. It is perhaps ironic that my signature scent would be named after the place from which my ancestors sprung, swords in hands and psychosis firmly in place.

I get comments and enquiries about my scent all the time. But the strange thing about perfume is that it has unique reactions to individual body chemistry. Apparently mine and Dune make a pretty arresting combination. People always ask about it, go forth to purchase it only to find that the scent is different on them.

My asthma makes me incredibly sensitive to fragrances. There are a few that literally make me ill and I cannot abide atomic clouds of noxious perfume. A light hand is much appreciated lest I spend the entire day wheezing, tearing up and basically hating on the spray-happy moron.

Paris Rive Gauche. Parfum non grata. Quite a few men's cologne mean no chance in hell of getting a date from me ... hard to date when you're dying from asthma.

I occasionally wear some other scent just for a change but that is rare and I always return to Dune. So much so that everyone knows to buy that for me as an easy gift. 

I think scents are an integral part of personality. Your choices tell a lot about you. Youthful and exuberant. Full-bodied and sensual. Sharp and aggressive. Delicate and floral. Don't you think your scent defines you? Care to share?

A couple of years ago while wiling away my time at yet another mall, I spied a slinky bottle shaped like a svelte Erte model, languidly curved while maintaining a rigidly upright demeanour. The top was a sinuous spiral that was echoed in the fine, subtle tendrils cradled within the glass bottle. Peeking from between the curls on the top was a crystal ball. 

Intrigued, I sprayed a little onto a tester card. Wafting it vigorously to oxidise it, I sniffed cautiously. It smelt like spun candy with hints of floral dark chocolate, caramel, exotic musk, patchouli or is that ylang ylang?, a hint of citrus and spices. Being a foodie, I loved it.

I sprayed some on and walked around for a while to see how the perfume would react to my body. The redolent fragrance could only be described as yummy. It made you want to lick and bite. In a good way. 

I'd fallen in lust with a perfume. Before I got on the plane, I bought a bottle. 

Roberto Cavalli for Women and Just Cavalli for Women vied with Dune to anoint my bare skin for the next few years. Then, for some reason, it became rather hard to find in the shops. Or it was always out of stock wherever I was. So after a while, I reverted back to my old faithful, Dune.

So I went perfume shopping today for a breathe of fresh scent. As I walked past a glittering, glistening shelf of cut glass and limpid colours, I smelt spun sugar with musky undertones. I followed my nose.

No, it was not Cavalli but a new incarnation of yet another favourite designer, Thierry Mugler. I do not like his Angel series of perfumes but Angel Violet reminded me of Roberto Cavalli for Women. Was it also a coincidence that it is named after one of my favourite colour palettes? I am such a girl sometimes ...

Spun sugar, chocolate, vanilla, patchouli, citrus, something floral, probably violet. It was a potent seduction. I sprayed some on my wrist. The reaction was intoxicating. My natural scent coupled with Angel Violet was heady enough that the woman next to me asked to sniff me. 

The headlong rush of lust for this musk was immediate. I was licentiously giddy with olfactory yearning. I had to have it.

Unfortunately I had to catch a plane and the queue at the cashier was a plane long. Delayed gratification is perhaps good for the soul but my nose demands wham, bam, thank you glam. 

There better be a shop selling Thierry Mugler Angel Violet tomorrow. I am not above stamping my feet in pique.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Hey Toni ...

Remember that song Mickey? Can you believe it's been 26 years since that song burnt our airwaves with Toni Basil's high-pitched squeal?

Well, Toni Basil showed up at Bette Midler's opening party for the latter's new Vegas show recently. She's all of 65 now and I must say she looks pretty good for her age. Still, it is a bit of a shock to the system to see her looking thus when you recall the video for Mickey.

Time certainly flies. I still remember being forced to do a gymnastic routine to that blasted song. I hope I do not get nightmares tonight.

Wonder what AHA looks like now?

Fashion Faux Pas 4

I think the Koreans are a bunch of oxymorons.  They can come up with the coolest fashion vibes yet sometimes dress like they were blind and in the dark.  They can have the most controversial outfits yet be incredibly conservative about how much flesh is shown.  Yet they have Lee Hyori.

Still, I find them a thoroughly intriguing lot and this outfit wobbling on pop singer, Yangpa, adds to it.

What is the subliminal message here?  

Is it a tribute to Car Wash?

Or a nod to The Muppet Show?

Or are furry slinkies the new thing?

Someone explain please?


I'm sorry I can't go out with you tonight as I have a date with a box of matchsticks.


Just as I am not a footy fan, I am also not a big F1 fan. I was asked recently if I wanted to go. When I turned it down a few of my friends tried to thwap me for being an idiot. 

Why should I? I can't really see much at those things and every time they go whizzing by, I have to ask someone, "What colour car just went by? Whussat?" as I try to beat whiplash.

I rather watch it on the telly. If I watch it at all. And if I did, it would be because a bunch of mates bribed me with food and alkie to make me sit through it.

So Michael Arndt completely baffles me but I have to admire his perseverance and devotion to his chosen sport.

Still, can't see him dating much, can you?

956,000 matchsticks + too much time = obessive F1 fan

Posted Feb 13th 2008 by Drew Phillips

We all have different ways that we spend our time and money, but probably nothing quite like how Michael Arndt spent 6000 Euros and six years. The matchstick master built a full scale Mercedes-McLaren F1 car in his kitchen using 956,000 matchsticks and 1686 tubes of glue. The car can even be taken apart for easy transportation, which is good since at some point Arndt might want to leave his parent's house.  Check out the
gallery to see the incredible detail and some of the building process.  

Break A Leg, Arsenal

It's very unpatriotic of me but I dislike footy. Would not watch it if you threatened to shoot me. Would watch it if you bribe me with lots of food and alkie.

Which was what happened a couple of nights ago. A mate called me over to hang out with the blokes since we'd not seen each other for ages. 

And what do I find when I get there? The blokes had set up a footy night. Sigh. Hand over the crisps and beer. At least I can numb the pain, I thought.

But no pain compared with what was to come. Not for me. But for one of the players.

It would stand to reason that in the one in ten chances of me watching a footy match, someone gets completely bollocked.

It was harrowing. I went all girlie and did the clapping hand to mouth, loud gasping, eyes widening, wincing and soft sympathetic whining as I saw the boy's leg snap.

Yes.  Snap. 

It was so bad they could not even show the replay immediately as everyone went into shock and empathetic pain. The horror was so great and the injury so severe and gruesome that there were plenty of averted faces.

The game was stopped for 8 minutes as the poor boy was carried off in a stretcher, an oxygen mask over his twisted face of agony. 

I'm not sure if it was a good thing or bad thing that my mates were all Arsenal fans as they started shouting and demanding Birmingham's Martin Taylor's blood. 

There's apparently a huge anti-Brit uproar since. I think Croatians should be given a wide berth for the next few months for fear of retribution. Despite the furore, and I am not being blindly biased here, I think it was not a deliberate attack on da Silva and was just an extremely clumsy and unfortunate challenge by Taylor. But still, I wonder how the latter can live with himself, as it does not look like an injury that is easily recoverable. 

I think it is safe to say that da Silva is bollocked. His football career is probably over and even if he recovers well enough to play, will he ever be able to recover the talent and bright future my mates tell me he possesses? Or used to possess?

One of my mates, seeing I was almost in tears for the poor boy, told me another player, Alan Smith had a similar injury and managed to return back to the sport after a year of intensive rehab. My heart really goes out to Eduardo da Silva and certainly hope that the same happens for him. 

Scarf Faced Liar?

Did you ever have one of those colleagues who would always claim credit for others' ideas or work? 

My entire career is littered by unoriginal thieves of this ilk. Plagarism and intellectual property theft are daily occurrences. Therefore, I have a deep abiding distaste and contempt for people without the talent, substance nor integrity to create their own self-expression.

I've always thought Marc Jacobs was rather boring but produced well-constructed fashion. So it was a bit of a surprise to read that he has "gotten himself tied into a pretty tight knot" as described by Backseat Cuddler

A Goran Olofsson from Arvika, western Sweden claims that Jacobs has blatantly copied one of his grandfather's design from the 1950s.

The elder Olofsson designed the original scarf as a homemade tourist item for the town of Linsell back in the day when Jacobs was not even a gleam in anyone's eye. These scarves appear to have been exported to the US by tourists and somehow found their way into the Marc Jacobs collection.

Marc Jacobs scarf is almost identical in design with the biggest change being the alteration of the word "Linsell" to "Marc Jacobs since 1984". 

Wonder what Gosta Olafsson would have felt about this but the grandson is highly unimpressed. As the lone heir, he feels he owns the original copyright and declares, 

“I would guess that he had about a thousand of these scarves made up,” said Göran. “I wrote at the weekend and am waiting for an answer.”

Tut, tut.

Ship Sinkers

I had lunch with a plastic surgeon friend and his wife. We were chatting away when the conversation steered to "the perfect face". We pondered on Helen of Troy's visage that could launch a thousand ships and whether that definition of beauty would still be able to set a kayak going in today's context.
Back in the cool oasis of my hotel room, I laconically started doing a search for "the perfect face". One article depicted a facial composite of both the perfect male and female face as according to two Beverly Hills plastic surgeons, Toby Mayer and Richard Fleming. The individual parts are apparently the most requested and sought-after in Horrorwood. The results were startlingly unattractive and very LA. 

The bloke is made up of:
Daniel Craig’s eyes
Leonardo DiCaprio’s nose (why???)
Matt Damon’s lips
Christian Bale’s jaw (I'll take all of him, thank you very much) 
John Stamos‘ hair (that's beyond sad)

The chick is strung together from:
Katie Holmes‘ eyes
Katherine Heigl’s nose
Keira Knightley’s cheeks
Jessica Simpson’s hair (the dye might permeate the brain and kill the few brain cells though)
Angelina Jolie’s lip

Doesn't it look like Elvis gone wrong? Even more wrong than the sequinned leisure suits, sideburns and shades?

The female resembles every Hooters waitress I have come across in the US.

These are the perfect faces? They look more likely to sink a thousand ships instead. I think I'll stick with mine then, warts and all.

Sexy Nerd

I hear Natalie Portman dated Moby. Why do we care? Because it kind of proves that nerds can be sexy.

Or at least sexy to hot chicks.

In previous posts, I mentioned that women like men who are funny. That span off a discussion about sexy nerds like Grissom from CSI and Hiro & Mohinder from Heroes.

For some strange reason, I have not dated a lot of nerds despite having loads of them as friends. The one nerd I dated was a really funny Irish chap who just made me laugh all the time. He was bespectacled, ginger, chubby, short and badly freckled with hair that stood on ends. He was also funny, earnest, sincere, down-to-earth, self-effacing and terribly eager to please. 

When peeps found out we were dating, there was a lot of incredulous naysaying and I believe the poor bloke took quite a lot of malicious ribbing and nasty comments because of that. We parted as really good mates when we both had to travel away, and I remember our time together as being wonderfully fun and comfortable. 

So this comment from from Moby regarding his relationship did not really surprise me. We would hope that people would be more enlightened and less judgmental in this age but obviously not.

Moby -
“I guess in some people’s eyes, [nerds] might be mildly sexy - and, as a nerd, I’m certainly happy to enjoy some of the effects of that. But as far as the very brief affair that I had with Natalie, it’s made me a target of a lot of nerd wrath,” the techno-whiz tells next month’s Spin. “You don’t date Luke Skywalker’s mom and not have them hate your guts.” 

Luke, I bonked your mother ...

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Big Basturd

I can happily claim that I have never watched a single episode of Big Brother. The first I knew of this programme was back in Germany yonks ago. I was out for a couple of pints one night and tripped over the camera crew camped out at my local.

Turned out the Big Brother contestants were out on the town and one of them tried to chat me up. He seemed incredulous that I had not heard of the programme nor was particularly interested. Right then and there I decided I would never catch even a minute of this show if that was the calibre of contestants.

My gut instincts must have been right as I felt terribly vindicated in my decision when I read this. I was immediately furious for Justin and MM. From Just Jared,

"A national autism group is demanding an apology from CBS over a disparaging remark a Big Brother contestant made about people with the disorder.

BB9 contestant Adam, who said he works for an autism foundation, said he would spend his winnings on a hair salon for people with developmental disabilities “so retards can get it together and get their hair done.” His remark shocked his partner, Sheila, who replied, “Don’t call them that.” Adam responded by saying, “Disabled kids. I can call them whatever I want. I work with them all day, OK?”


Paper Coffins

The first time I encountered the infamous paper effigies and accouterments for the dead in Asia, I was a little creeped out. Somehow the burning of things to your ancestors was just a little too pagan for my anal retentive, young, Catholic sensibilities.

However, the artist in me appreciated the concept and craft of these paper sacrifices.  I would always ask an open-minded Chinese friend about the meanings, designs and stories behind each of the paper offerings.  However, I have noticed a slight reluctance and superstitious unwillingness to discuss the rites of the dead among the Chinese.

So, this latest development from Hong Kong was a surprise.  In land-scarce and astronomical property prices Hong Kong, a new solution for the dead has been announced.  Eco-friendly coffins are here to save the day ... or night ... or after life ...

The limited burial plots in Hong Kong has driven them to bridge the divide between man and nature even onto death.  Hong Kong's Permanent Secretary for Health, Carrie Yau, stated, “The eco-coffin coincides with the Asian philosophy of integration between man and nature. We will further study the material and design of the coffin and promote the application of the eco-coffin in Hong Kong to bring out the concept of paying tribute to the deceased through protecting the environment.”

These eco-coffins are made up of 90% recycled, rigid (sic) honeycomb cardboard - modern, strong (up to 20 stones), 100% environmentally friendly and customisable.  They come in plain cardboard for the naturalists, wood-grain for the traditionalists, and every conceivable design for the modern dead.  Because you can design your own.  Eco-coffin, that is ... not death.  

So what say you?  Wanna go paper?

You've Got Wood in Your Underpants

While doing some research on ecological designs, I came across a new line of "sexy, ethical undies".

I don't know about you but those those words kind of cancel each other out for me. It's like saying clinical intercourse.

A French designer by the name of Sophie Young has sprouted forth a collection entitled g=9.8 (an allusion to gravitational acceleration), using a new fabric made from white pine tree clippings called Lenpur®. 

Young touts the eco-benefits of Lenpur as "no extra water" is needed "to produce the wood scraps, and the fabric is supposedly biodegradable."

g=9.8 also claims, "The comfort of silk, the feel of cashmere, and the coolness of linen. The resulting pieces acquire surprising thermal regulating and anti-stress properties." 

Yes, I can see how the ability to keep cool while getting hot and bothered would be a good thing. Throw in the ability to withstand the stress of heavy load, pressure, shock impact as well as contortions during amorous encounters. Sounds like Young has great plans for her undies.

She's an enterprising one alright, as she doesn't intend to stop at undies. A line of sporty and modern, athletic and sleepwear lines in taking root. 

Hope we don't get splinters in our nether parts ...

Monday, February 18, 2008

Mobile Home

Wow, I was really impressed with this. Now global gypsies can really travel light as you can pack your entire bedsit into a 31x47 inch box. Which can be re-assembled in 10 minutes with no tools required too.

It's a brilliant concept which won the "Abraham & David Roentgen Award" last November. Named the Casulo, it is the brain-child of two young German designers, Marcel Krings & Sebastian Muhlhauser.

I watched the video in awe but firstly, let's have a clear view of the room in a box.

On the left ... box.

On the right ... bust out box with an armoire, a desk, a height-adjustable stool, two more stools, a six-shelf bookcase, and a bed with a mattress.

Yes, all this came from that 31x47 inch box. Genius.

Now if I can only pack my entire wardrobe in that box ...

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Honey Pot

When you were young, did you ever help a friend out by being bait?

You know, when a female friend suspects her boyfriend of being a player or cheating on her and wants to confirm her suspicions?  She calls upon a female friend whom the boyfriend does not know or knows very slightly and sets a trap for him?

When I was young and clueless, I was asked by female friends to provide this aid on a few occasions.  I never said yes because I think it is insulting.  Not to the boyfriend!  I couldn't give a rat's arse.  But to me!

It made me feel like some kind of Venus flytrap and made me wonder at how they really saw me.

Back then, I did not know there was a name for such an activity and that a career could be made from it.  Hmmm, perhaps I should have been more open-minded?

I think not though as I am notoriously bad-tempered and contemptuous of cheaters and players.  At the first sign of loose hands and advancing lips, I might have done some damage to the target.

Still, reading the article from The Sydney Morning Herald made me wonder.  I am of two minds.  Is honey trapping wrong and entrapment?  Or is it a necessary evil?  Who is worse?  The honey trapper or the honey trapped?  Or the one who sets up the honey trap?  It's all rather sordid and I think I need a nice glass of wine now.

Private eye defends "honey trapping"

February 15, 2008 

When Richard Martinez goes to a nightclub or bar, he often goes alone.

But the 38-year-old former RAF officer wastes no time in heading for a target - a woman - to flirt with and flatter.

Martinez will not try too hard, but will allow himself to be drawn into conversation and, if asked, will give out his phone number for a potential future date.

Martinez is a "honey trapper" - or as he likes to call himself, an "integrity tester" - one of a growing team of private detectives who are hired by wives, husbands or partners to test the loyalty of their loved ones.

"It's growing all the time," he says of his business, the Expedite Detective Agency (, which charges £300 ($588) for an integrity test on a potential cheat.

Martinez refutes accusations of marriage-wrecking, arguing that his customers come to him when they are already concerned about their partner's fidelity or when rumours have led them to suspect an affair. But he admits around 80 per cent of targets fail the test and turn out to be ready and willing to cheat on a partner.

Martinez and his colleagues - he has a team of male and female trappers, some more, some less attractive - record the whole "hit" on audio and video, so that the customer can see for themselves how the evening develops.

And Martinez has "rules of engagement": The target must not be drunk, there must be no touching, and the relative attractiveness of the trapper to the target must be equal.

"It's got to be a fair test," he explains. "So we make sure that we don't set a very attractive honey trapper on a not so attractive target, and vice versa."

"The customer needs a fair answer to the question of whether their husband or girlfriend is loyal."

Martinez says that while many of his customers may end their relationships, other use the honey trap to confront unfaithful lovers and appeal to them to change their ways.

"So we can also act as a deterrent," he says. "The customer can say to their partner: 'I caught you this time and I want you to change' and they can warn that they will use the honey trap service in the future to test them again."

He shrugs off criticism that he is fostering mistrust, and insists he is meeting a real need among British couples. But while Martinez is unashamed about what he does, other such detective agencies are more reticent.

At UK Honey Traps, a service based in Worcestershire in the heart of England and offering trappers across the country, they are not keen to talk.

"We don't talk to journalists," a spokesman said by telephone. "It wouldn't help our business."

They are, however, looking for new recruits.

Under the vacancies section of their Web site, the detective service is on the look-out for "confident, bubbly, outgoing men and women with an ability to think on their feet".

Becoming a honey trapper demands reliability, honesty and accuracy, it says, and because most of the trapping takes place outside office hours, it can offer "an ideal second career".


Boobed Out

Poor Any Winehouse just could not cut a break before the Grammys, could she?  Not content making her entry into the US as difficult as possible, she was also made to cover up the tattoo of a naked woman on her arm.

The Grammys producers took objection to the inked body part ... the boob on the naked woman, not Wino's arm, although we cannot be 100% sure of that too.

She was asked to cover it up even for her performance via satellite from London.  

So poor Wino resourcefully used her signature eyeliner to draw a pair of black cutlets over the boobs.

I am rolling my eyes within my black eyelinered eyes.

Photo from Dlisted.

Funny versus Hunky

There was a recent discussion about our fave characters in some of our fave telly programmes. 

Grissom from CSI featured heavily with MM threatening bodily harm for jello-stakes at this grey-haired, epitome of nerd appeal. Hey, I like him too but am still shallow enough to find Warrick much more my speed. 

Still, it made me think. I know of many very funny and intellectual blokes who, at first glance, look like the fella who used to sit at the front of the class and wore coke-bottled glasses. Yet, in their adulthood, many of them scored supermodelly stunners.


Because I think a lot of women would take funny over hunky.

Better yet, couple funny with intelligence and you'll have women falling over themselves. Usually in surprise. Which is then a good time to swoop in for the kill.

Some of my friends are stand-up comics. One of them has harvested a career on a bumbling village idiot routine. For some reason, many people think stand-up comics are idiots just because they make a living out of punch lines. Or in Steve Martin's case, non punch lines.

Do they have any idea how hard it is to come up with funny material that works again and again and is fresh and disarming? The mental dexterity to produce instant, cutting one-liners to fend off hecklers? 

I've seen my friend work material over and over again just for that split second of laughter. His usual genial, plump face would furrow and he would chew on his lip till it bleeds as he torments himself over lines and pentameter. 

Being funny is hard work. 

I see it like art. It is no less than what we do to find that perfect balance of beauty, expression, ego, total submission, giving, control, vulnerability and strength. There is a trust and blind faith in what you do. Being out there places everything you are into the hands of a bunch of people you do not know. Your sense of self is up for rendering or lifting.

One of my favourite comediennes is Steve Martin. He never fails to slay me because his comedy is of the sneaky, intelligent humour that can still lapse into total slapstick and physical goofiness that completely throws you off.

He looks like your boring uncle who might show up in an Argyle sweater & socks. He tells the jokes that makes your uncle pee in his Argyle sweater & socks. 

When I read an article in The Smithsonian website about how he derived his blend of comedy, it solidified a very healthy respect for and admiration of this superbly talented man. 

Go there and read up his i
nsightful and well-written article if you have the time. I throughly enjoyed it and am looking forward to getting his book.

Toned Down Kids

I'm not particularly fond of children. They're fine from afar and from someone else but I rather they kept their distance.

Of course there are exceptions like MM's brood, only because they are so well-behaved. At least when I happened to be around.

But still, kids should be allowed to be kids. They are not miniature adults who have to conform to all sorts of prejudices and bias and restrictions. These will come with age unfortunately and they will have to learn how to cope as they do - hopefully with their parents' and family's support and guidance.

An article in AP made me angry. OK, mildly angry. OK, more like strongly disturbed, gearing up to angry. I have not had my coffee yet so give me time ...

A Swedish pre-school in Gallivare, north of Stockholm, has banned its children from wearing striped and spotted clothing. No, no, not together ... (OK, maybe together too). The reason is because the patterns gave one of the teachers severe migraines.

Wow, talk about fascist fashion police. 

"Daaaahhhling, stripes are so passe! And you look all spotty! Oh, my eyes! Oh my head! Woe is me. Let's ban the lil tots from wearing them." 

Apparently this ban has been in place in one of the areas for three years but only recently reached nationwide attention. 

Myran preschool Principal May Norberg said the ban had never caused any problems. Until now.

The parents understandably complained. I think they should make the kids wear checks and busy florals in neon colours just to prove their point.

According to the AP article, "Some researchers claim that striped, spotted or even checkered patterns can cause migraines since they affect the brain and the eye's visual impressions.

"They project a certain light and can be very disturbing," said Professor Lars Forsgren at Umea University.

Anita Israelsson, a spokeswoman at the Swedish Work Environment Authority, said the clothing ban, since it deals with people's work environment, does not violate Swedish law and is usually handled by individual workplaces."

We had a statistics lecturer who used to show up in tight checks and stripes. We finally had to draw straws to see who had to go up to her and request that she wore plain clothes for the lessons. Our eyes were starting to cross as we could not differentiate between her clothes and the grid on the board after a while. I remember we were all terribly embarrassed and worried that we would hurt her feelings.

Fortunately she understood after we hurriedly assured her that it was only for the statistics classes and her dresses were fab for any other classes where we did not have to focus on grids and such.

Some requests are reasonable but to make the kids stifle their clothing choices because of a teacher's inability to cope optically is quite ridiculous.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Double Take

This post threw me for a loop. Not because of the headline that announced that OJ was a woman-beater ... oh wow, colour me surprised ... but because I scrolled down.

The fact that the blogger quoted the National Enquirer as a source did not lend confidence. I was ready to gloss over the article ... till I saw the picture of OJ's badly-battered babe.

Take a look.  And I'm not talking about her tatas.

Did chills just go down your spine?

Talk about doing a double take.  

OJ Says Badly Battered Girlfriend Fell Down.

I’m old enough to remember the OJ Simpson double murder trial, in which photos of a bruised and battered Nicole Brown, OJ’s murdered ex wife, were presented as evidence. Brown put the pictures of herself along with her will and newspaper clippings about a 1989 beating she suffered at the hands of her husband in a safety deposit box “just in case.”

Now OJ’s longterm girlfriend, Christie Prody, has suffered a beating so severe that she was bleeding from her brain, with one police officer saying it was the worst case he’d ever seen. OJ’s explanation for Prody’s multiple injuries, including abrasions on her face and bruises all over her body, is that she was drunk and fell down. Prody tested negative for alcohol when she arrived at the hospital. She had been away for about a week and a half before she returned to OJ in Miami and was either beaten senseless or “fell down”

Prody suffered a severe head injury and massive bruises all over her body, sources told The ENQUIRER.

While O.J. says that Prody’s injuries are self-inflicted and explained that the 32-year-old woman went on a drunken binge and fell down, cops aren’t convinced, insiders say.

Investigators said from the damage to Prody’s body, they believe she was beaten. One detective said he has never seen such severe bruises on a woman before.

Police detectives are questioning Simpson at his home today, and are conducting an ongoing investigation into what happened to Prody.

Prody, 32, was rushed to a Baptist Memorial Hospital in Miami Feb 11 after she collapsed at a local gas station.

Police were alerted by hospital authorities after doctors found she 
was bleeding from her brain — and also had numerous large bruises and abrasions on her face, arms, legs and buttocks.

Prody had spent ten days with O.J.’s friends in San Antonio until she returned to Miami on Feb. 11. Simpson was with her until Feb. 4 when he returned to his Kendall home.

Simpson told police Prody’s wounds were self inflicted and that she had been on a drinking binge.

When Prody was brought into the hospital, there was no trace of alcohol in her blood, sources told The ENQUIRER.

[From The National Enquirer website]

Simpson has been free on bail in his conspiracy armed robbery case since about mid January despite stiffing his bail bondsman twice and violating the terms of his bail by contacting one of his co-defendants. Simpson and five men held up two sports memorabilia dealers in Las Vegas on September 16th of last year and OJ and two of his conspirators are awaiting trial. Three of the men have accepted plea bargains for their roles in the crime.

It makes you sick to your stomach to think that this guy committed such a heinous crime when he should have been in jail. He was let go under a month ago after being jailed for violating bail by contacting another defendant in his case. His bail bondsman turned him in when he failed to pay him a dime and then asked him to talk to one of his codefendants for him despite the fact that it was strictly prohibited. Prosecutors asked the judge to keep him in jail until his April 4 trial date, but she let him out with a warning.

At least this woman lived and hopefully she won’t have lasting injuries or any brain damage. I read the full manuscript of OJ’s “hypothetical” “If I Did It” book, which was available online shortly last year, and he seemed to be trying to justify double murder, if he really did it and all, and described how Nicole angered him by having candles and music playing when OJ stopped by. OJ caught Ron Goldman arriving with an envelope and accused him of delivering drugs. Ron vehemently denied that he was bringing drugs and showed OJ the sunglasses that Nicole had left at the restaurant where he works. According to the manuscript, OJ just happened to be there with a knife in his hand, and he had a friend with him, who is presumed to have been his accomplice. OJ never described the actual murders, just before when he was in a rage and after, when he was confused to find that he was covered in blood.

Maybe OJ will finally go away for a very long time now that he faces charges for armed robbery along with beating his girlfriend so severely that her brain bled. It may have taken 20 years, but at least OJ will finally spend some significant time, maybe even the rest of his life, in prison.

Image of Christie Prody is from September of 2007. Thanks to Splash News for these photos.

Update: TMZ says that they contacted police, who told them that OJ is not a suspect and that Prudy’s injuries are consistent with a bad fall she took at the gas station. And I was so ready to call him guilty of battering his girlfriend.

Whether he is guilty of physically abusing his women or not, he is at least consistent, is he not?  She's the splitting image of Nicole Brown.

A Streetcar Banned Desire

I think they should do the same in India but getting basic rights for women is already an ordeal. Trying to lobby for single-sex transportation would be considered a "luxury" for women's long-term wish lists.

This might work for train service in Japan though. Fortunately, when I had to take the train the few times, a very gallant colleague always tried to "shield" me and made sure I was unmolested throughout the ride.

On one of my study stints in Asia, I had to take the bus for a few months to and from school before my grandma managed to sort out the transportation situation. It was, and still is, fairly common for perverts to molest young school girls in that particular city but I was still fairly taken aback when I felt a hand creeping on my arse one day.

Now, this particular pervert was not very bright. It had been raining that morning and I had a big-arse brolly of the sort old people would double up as a walking stick.

So, hand on arse. Brolly on balls. 

The bus was so crowded, I could not raise my brolly to hit him over the head or poke him in the eye without hurting innocent by-standers. So I hit him in the balls with the handle, jabbed his feet and elbowed him in the face as he crouched down to cup his family jewels.

Then I shouted to the bus-driver to stop the bus so we could get down while I continue to kick his arse before I kicked him to the police station.

The bus-driver helped me kick his arse. I was a little peeved and wanted to ask him to get his own pervert. But I was well brought up so I just thanked him prettily. After all, he pissed off a whole bus-load of people when he detoured the bus to bring us to the nearest police station.

Therefore, I totally understand why these plucky Mexican ladies finally stood up for a hassle-free ride. It's sexual discrimination, totally. But I can absolutely empathise. Maybe they can get a single-sex bus for men to even things up. 

On Mexico's single-sex buses, relief from unwanted contact
By Marc Lacey
Monday, February 11, 2008

MEXICO CITY: Body-to-body contact is inescapable on Mexico City's crowded public transportation system. Get on a train or a bus during rush hour and a man in a business suit may have his arm resting against your shoulder, a woman toting a bulky shopping bag may have her back pressed against your flank, and a teenager listening to an iPod may tap his sneaker all over your newly shined left shoe.

But many women complain that not all the contact is incidental. Among the 22 million passengers who use the bus and subway system daily, women say, are lecherous men taking advantage of the cheek-to-jowl conditions to leer and grope and then quietly disappear.

"There are good men in Mexico, but they're not the ones on public transport," said Mariana Vasquez, 30, who waited to board a bus recently on her way to a job interview at a law firm. "They try to touch you. They don't give you a seat. Where are the gentlemen?"

One place they are not is on new women-only buses that Mexico City began running in January to reduce the harassment. With pink placards and insistent drivers who growl at any man who tries to step aboard, the buses are quickly becoming a hit among women.

"Woo-hoo!" bellowed Catalina Garduño the other day as man after man was turned away from the bus she was riding. Her outbursts animated the other women on board, who joined in the celebration. As they rolled along Paseo de la Reforma on their way home from work, the atmosphere resembled a ladies' night on wheels.

Their relief reached beyond their escape from being accosted physically.

"We don't get paid as much as they, yet we work just as hard," said Garduño, a saleswoman. "We are tired of their machismo. We don't feel sorry for them at all."

A few rows back, Abigail Llanes, 21, expressed a similar sentiment.

"We get to sit now," she said, beaming. "It's great."

As complaints of harassment have grown, Mexico has experimented over the years with various remedies. Some subway cars have been reserved for women. Some buses allow women, disabled people and those with children to use designated entrances at the front. But the new buses may be the boldest approach so far.

Men's reactions run the gamut. Some declare the program discriminatory. Some curse at the bus drivers who leave them standing at the curb.

Plenty of men, though, say they endorse the idea.

"We have no respect," Adolfo Flores, 30, a law student, said of the unseemly way many men treat women.

Flores was getting his shoes shined as buses passed by behind him. The shoeshine man, Esteban Hernández, 57, piped in with his own theory about the groping.

"We have the animal instinct," he said, smiling. Touching a woman, he said, "is a way of showing masculinity — it's very bad."

Just how bad the abuse problem — which is raised by women in cities the world over — has become in Mexico is difficult to say. Last year, just seven women lodged official complaints of harassment on Mexico City's buses. There are more reports of sexual incidents on the subways, with roughly one a day filed with the authorities. But Mexican officials believe those figures do not reflect the full extent of the problem.

"Most women don't report what happens to them," said Ariadna Montiel, who directs the public bus system, noting that as a young architecture student years ago she traveled by public transportation and experienced the harassment firsthand. "I know it's a serious problem."

Montiel said she had no intention of neglecting men. "We have to guarantee that all users are taken care of," she said, adding that coed buses roll along in close proximity to the women's buses to ensure that nobody is waiting too long.

Passengers say the atmosphere aboard women's buses is entirely different. As the buses become more popular, and crowded, some women politely offer their seats to others. And, they say, the lechers are gone.

Still, the experiment cannot solve the underlying problem of how the sexes interact in the metropolis. Only four of the city's bus routes have women-only buses. That number will rise to 15 in the months ahead, but coed buses will remain the rule in most areas.

To complement the single-sex buses, the Institute of Women in Mexico City, a government body that promotes opportunities for women, is pushing a public education campaign to make clear to men that inappropriate touching is illegal. In March, a new ordinance will make it easier to prosecute those found harassing women in public places.

"This is not against men," insisted Martha Lucia Micher Camarena, the institute's director general. "This is positive discrimination that responds to the demands of women. And it's also for men because it protects their daughters, sisters and mothers."

Happy VD Candies

Here's what I would send if I could be arsed.

Leave Your Weapons At The Door

I've always thought that psychiatrists, and anyone in the same type of field, place considerable personal danger upon themselves with their mode of operation. It doesn't matter if the mental and/or emotional issue is "small" or seemingly harmless. Anyone can snap at a moment's notice. Being totally alone in a room with someone with such issues while trying to evoke or dig these up is highly hazardous, I think.

During a convo one afternoon a long time ago, we asked a psychiatrist friend if she had ever thought of installing metal detectors and doing bag and body searches on her patients before they even step into her clinic.

She admitted that she had but it was against the amendments and medical code to do so. It's probably rather off-putting to be so distrusted by someone you are seeking help from for trust issues, I guess.

Still, if someone snaps, they really do not need to bring a cleaver or gun into the clinic. In a rage, a pen or letter opener are extremely useful weapons. And having another person in the room like a nurse would probably break some sort of doctor-patient confidentiality clause. Maybe a doctor-nurse-patient confidentiality clause should be considered. And ex-wrestlers and cops can now get retirement jobs as nurses cum bouncer.

From the gothamist,

FEBRUARY 13, 2008
Upper East Side Psychologist Murdered; Patient Suspected

A psychologist was slashed to death in her office building at 79th Street and York last night. Another therapist was seriously injured; the suspect is still at large.

Police believe that Dr. Kathryn Faughey was killed by a patient during a 9PM session. Dr. Kent Shinback, a colleague in the same practice, ran into Faughey's office when he heard her screaming and tried to stop the patient, but he was, per the Daily News, "slashed numerous times in the face and neck." The suspect, described as a white middle-aged male with blond/light hair, fled, possibly through the basement.

Two weapons were found, a meat cleaver and a 9-inch knife, both bent from the force of the attacks. A doorman told the Post he saw the suspect go into the building but not out, "He looked like a psycho." And a police source told the News the attack was very vicious: "Lots of anger. This was clearly personal."

Faughey, who lived across the street, had a website where she described her style as "cognitive behavioral - tailored to fit the individual. My specialty is pinpointing the issues; developing techniques to resolve them." She even recognized issues about "online intimacy," like "monitoring the ex" through "IM, myspace, facebook, blogs, etc."

Shinbach is in serious but stable condition at New York-Presbyterian Hospital Weill Cornell. Their office manager Darlene Yeats said, "[Faughey]'s a wonderful, loving person who didn't deserve this. She was so close with all of us. I'm shocked and devastated. I'm at a loss for words." 

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Indian Signs

I saw a series of incredibly hilarious Indian signs on Doing Jalsa and Showing Jilpa that I just had to share. For those of you who have spent some time in India or are Indian, you'll get the humour immediately. For those of you less privileged , use your imagination.

This is the international sign for Customs, as according to AIGA, the professional association for design. 

Now here is what the Customs sign in India should look like.

The universal symbol for Elevator is just plain "disinformation" as bewailed by Doing Jalsa and Showing Jilpa and he proceeds to show us how it should look like in India.

The international symbol for fire extinguisher looks like this.

And here's what fire extinguishers looks like in India.

Here's the extremely confusing sign for Litter used internationally. Confusing if you are Indian that is.

This is more like what you will see in India.