Poppycockney

I Saw Steve Coogan's Doppelganger

Fri, 21 Nov 2008 20:45:54 GMT

As Herne Hill's about as far away from Hackney Wick as you can get without taking a day off work, (not that I work), I've only been there once before but never left the immediate vicinity of the train station, and didn't on Thursday night, as the Escape Bar is so proximate to the overground that I'd not have run out of breadcrumbs or twine had I taken either of those celebrated precautionary measures against getting lost.

The bar's a pleasantly ramshackle arty place and though it did seem to be out of almost every drink I find palatable, they made up for it by giving me (and everyone) a free Bacardi and coke, although only after serving the two younger, more attractive - and, crucially - female customers who arrived well after me. Harrumph.

Still, Thursday's What They Could Do They Did night, part of an art collective a few friends-of-friends make up, was a nice mixture of music, poetry and art. Shimmy Rivers and and Canal were the headliners, (if such a word is appropriate here), and played a pretty nutty set of genuinely unclassifiable rock in a ramshackle, but entirely competent manner - and their guitarist was Steve Coogan's doppelganger. seriously. Asparagus Peru was also very enjoyable, but in a much more low-key weird-iPod-folk kind away. (With lots of tremelo arm action - Kevin shields would be proud.) And there was some interesting spoken word storytelling from some Scottish dude, with an abrasive backing track. All good fun.

Took me about a million years to get home because I missed the last train due to a not unprecedented misunderstanding between the 24 hour clock and I; and when I did, all the light bulbs seemed to have blown so I think I might have damaged one of my housemates' sculptures.Eek.

Today my massive hangover prevented me from doing any writing until now. I'd like to apologise to my adoring public - the screenplay is... gestating.

Still, after Poppy's bombshell earlier on I'll not get too self-pitying about my self-inflicted afflictions.

Worse things happen at sea. And at work too, apparently. I'm probably safer in here with my Pinot Noir , my laptop, and my unopened bills.

Image stolen from Asparagus Peru's MySpace.

Men are rubbish! :-(

Fri, 21 Nov 2008 17:24:00 GMT

Well there people, you might have noticed that I've been a little quiet this week. I'm sorry to leave you in the lurch, but sometimes work has to come first. Oh who am i kidding? Today I'm so hungover I can't think straight and this is the first time I've managed to look at a computer screen without squinting. Classy hey?

So guys and girls, this is the deal. Graham, might, just might, be... MARRIED.

I know how to pick 'em don't I? Perhaps I should have guessed from all of those "work trips" he took at the weekend. But as it turns out, when you're planning the office Christmas party, and he replies that he's bringing someone along with him, I don't think he means me. Twat. TWAT!

So, last night was spent in The Pride of Spitalfields drinking pint after pint after pint of London Pride. (Just for the record, right now I bloody hate London and it can stick its stupid pride up its own arse.) They have a cat in there if i remember rightly. Actually, it's quite a cosy pub. Full of lovely old blokes telling me to cheer up. Just what I needed. I'm sure they're great if you want to have some banter, but you're not going to get much private chatting done in a place this cosy.

I'm going to try not to spend the rest of the weekend drunk and crying.

Men are not my favourite people right now. None of them.

:-(

Flickr image from firemedic58's photostream.

Lounge Lover & Ladytron: Aimee's Busy Week

Fri, 21 Nov 2008 09:00:00 GMT

What a relief that we’re at the end of another busy week! Has it been as manic for you as it has for me? With panto season creeping steadily closer, there’s far too much to do at the theatre where I work, so I’ve been staying late most nights in rush to get everything done. I’ve hardly even seen Charlotte all week, let alone anyone else, so last night she persuaded me to sneak away so we could catch up over a drink or two. I wasn’t really in the mood, but once we got to Lounge Lover in Shoreditch, I was definitely glad she’d managed to drag me away from my desk. Apparently Madonna is a fan, and it’s not hard to see why. It’s a gorgeous bar, glamorous but intimate all at once with a massive cocktail menu. I especially recommend the ‘Sweet Little Nothing,’ which is pink and tastes just like Lovehearts sweets. Only mixed with booze and cream. It may sound sickly, but trust me. It’s heaven in a glass.

So, my head is a touch on the fragile side this morning, but nevertheless I’m in high spirits, because I’m off to see Ladytron at Shepherd’s Bush Empire tonight! I’ve had a massive crush on Mira ever since I saw her DJ at Stay Beautiful, back in the days when it was held at Club Wicked on Tooley Street (a bizarre mirror-walled venue which, rumour has it, went bankrupt as a result of its continual attempts to bag a license for live sex acts during its fetish nights. Perhaps even more perversely, its current incarnation is a tourist attraction: the London Bridge Experience). Anyway, Ladytron's latest album, Velocifero, is an absolute stomper. I can’t wait!

(Image of Lounge Lover via Toptable)

Poppycockney competition: Win tickets to the launch of Andy Stedman's album!

Wed, 19 Nov 2008 11:05:00 GMT

So, you've already read that Poppy and I are having a nightmare time at work this week. And today I've realised that there's just no way I'm going to make it out of the office in time for Andy Stedman's debut album launch tomorrow. As distressed about this as I am, don't despair on my behalf just yet. My loss could be your gain!

If you want my space on the guestlist, let me know, and you and a friend could win free entry to the event at Soho Revue Bar tomorrow. All you need to do is email me with your name and number. The lucky winner will be notified by 1pm tomorrow, so time is of the essence if you want to get your grubby mitts on my tickets! All you have to do in return is promise not to make me cross and jealous by telling me what a good time you had. And don't say I never treat you....

It's not just Aimee stuck at work.

Tue, 18 Nov 2008 17:39:00 GMT

Oh dear. Guess which clever lady accidentally shredded loads of VERY IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS about half an hour ago?

That would be me. Bugger.

So, no yummy dinner with Graham (who's pissed me off royally by fucking off to the pub with the boys) and it's unlikely I'll make the bloggers meet-up either. Instead, i'm going to sort out this stupid mess as soon as possible and rush home for a long soak in the tub.

But if that nasty air-conditioning lady doesn't stop laughing at me, I swear I'll loosen the wheels on her chair. Bitch.

Flickr image from iowa_spirit_walker's photostream.

Fishing For Insults

Tue, 18 Nov 2008 15:50:00 GMT

Am I a snob or are there just no decent chippies in London?

Having been regularly disappointed since moving here 2 years ago by cardboard-potato hybrids and sacks of pus-ridden grease masquerading as sea beasts, I'd pretty much given up by this summer. It's not just a matter of the lack of fresh fish, though; chips aren't difficult to cook (surely), but nobody in the capital seems to have the care, the finesse or the know-how that is the pride of our greasy, plastic diners nationwide.

So when I approached Fishcoteque with Maurice (up from Falmouth again - good chips there), round the corner from Waterloo, it was with trepidation. Now, I've read very positive reviews of this place (though some are dated a few years ago), so my disappointment was greater than usual. To be fair, the chips were better than most, but for the price they weren't all that: I've had much better outside of London. The fact that it refers to itself as a restaurant is a joke. I mean, yeah it has tables and chairs, but it's a state: it's basically a greasy spoon with restaurant prices. In a cave. Oh, and I didn't actually have fish so I won't diss their fish, but I did order a Cornish pasty and a tea to go with my chips...

The tea was average at best.

The pasty was a sort of roll of soggy pastry containing either dog food or dog poo, I'm not sure which - utterly inedible and unworthy of the name pasty. Obviously not prepared on site and obviously not prepared by anyone who has ever

a) eaten a Cornish pasty
b) seen a Cornish pasty
c) loved

They really shouldn't bother if that's their attitude.

I haven't had a good meal outside of my cave for yonks. And the next one's going to be a crocodile steak or nothing. Seriously though, you can get crocodile at Archipeligo. Anyone ever been? I want to ingest a crocodile; I want to absorb its might.

I'm afraid I'm not going out much this week so there's little to report. So Say So were really good: big, swirly, melancholic chamber music. Does that sound vague? I was pretty wasted...

Tonight, North Sea Radio Orchestra play St. Martin In The Fields but I won't be there (sad face) because I'm going to Herne Hill on Thursday for this arty thing, and I only go out once a week school nights or I go bankrupt, and besides, Flaf is cooking me wild mushroom risotto tonight (or I go without).

Please sir, can I have some more?

Andy Stedman, and a mountain of impossible work...

Tue, 18 Nov 2008 09:00:00 GMT

Well, Poppy sure is being a social butterfly this week, isn’t she? At the moment, it seems like I’m gonna be snowed under at work until this time next year, so any mention of any activity which sounds remotely fun which I’ll inevitably be unable to attend is guaranteed to get me miffed. And Charlotte has invited me to the launch of Andy Stedman’s debut album, Causin’ Havoc, Breakin’ Hearts, on Thursday. I hope I can make it, but only time will tell if I’ll manage to extract myself from my epic pile of paperwork by then.

So, forgive me if this is brief. But, if I can get everything done in time you might just see me at the Soho Revue Bar on Thursday night, dancing to Andy’s songs about the sea, clocks and Camden Market. You could come too, if you like. Although, the production of the album was funded by Andy’s fans, all of whom I’m sure will be anxious to see the outcome of their donations, so make sure you book in advance if you want to attend. And if you do, make sure you buy me a drink. I’ll need it.

The Hawley No-Charms

Mon, 17 Nov 2008 17:28:00 GMT

Irritating temp has been on my back all day, hence the late write-up today. She’s so annoying I’m going to try not to mention her, even though I already have. So I’ve failed. She just has that effect on me though, y’know, where the harder you try to forget about her, the more she tends to creep in through the cracks of your brain. At least she keeps me from thinking about Sal, who I am really starting to miss now.

Anyway, am slowly recovering from my bout of flu (cough, sniff, poor old me) and managed to make it along to my flatmate’s birthday party on Friday. Well, I didn’t actually make it to the Hawley Arms, since I arrived and there was a massive queue, and it kind of goes against my beliefs to queue up for a pub. It’s a PUB for god’s sake. It sells BOOZE. There are LOADS of em. Who gives a toss if Amy Winehouse and her weave – or even her new perm thing -go in there? The bouncer was rude and wouldn’t look up from his mobile, and the queue seemed to be full of American tourists (“Yeah, you gotta line up buddy!”). I went to old favourite the Enterprise up the road and got my flatmate and her entourage to meet me there instead. And it was much more fun. Hawley Arms on a Friday night? Just. Don’t. Bother.

Swung by 176 on Saturday and climbed up a mountain of pallets and spinning, flashing record players, right up to the top of an old Methodist church. Sounds weird? Well, you’ll have to find out for yourself. (Good news: it’s free.) And if you really fancy a bit of the old so-highbrow-you-can’t-understand-what’s-going-on (for me at least), pop along this Thursday for a special talk between Mark Titchner and Adam Curtis.

Right, I’m off to recommend the Hawley Arms to the irritating temp…

A Shivery Look At The Week Ahead: 17th - 23rd November

Mon, 17 Nov 2008 16:24:00 GMT

My god it's bloody cold. Why are offices always so cold? Why is there always one person (who sits right next to the air conditioning dial) who's always a totally different temperature to everyone else? Honestly, she's walking about in a bloody strappy dress right now! The rest of us are freezing our asses off. I'm refusing to do any work until she stops being a temperature demon.

Here's what i'm up to this week:

Monday: Didn't you hear me say I was brrrrrrr cold fucking freezing? I'm off to find the nearest place that will serve me mulled wine. And I'm getting a cab home. In ear muffs. Even if I do look silly. Charlotte Street Hotel is looking most likely. I don't care how pricey it is, I'm really cold! That said, I really want to be going to see Bourgeois and Maurice tonight. Maybe if I warm up a bit.

Tuesday: There's a London Bloggers meet-up tomorrow, and as I am officially a London blogger, I guess I better get me to that. It's at the Corney and Barrow and there will be lots of talking and drinking about blogs and other geekery. Quite looking forward to it actually.

Wednesday: If you're a Dallas fan, get yourself to Bistroteque tonight for Johnny Woo's Stark Dallas Naked. We saw this a while ago at the swanky Hospital Cluband depsite being too young to remember Dallas, anyone who gives us free gin in the interval is OK by us.

Thursday: While I was in Farringdon this weekend, I strolled past Aquarium L-13. They've got a great exhibition of cartoon fun! What would happen is Tom did finally get to eat Jerry? Or Wylie Coyote did catch up with Roadrunner? Well it's about time I found out. The cute little gallery is closing down soon. Graham and I might pop down to Exmouth Market for a drink afterwards.

Friday: The Diving Bell and The Butterfly is showing FOR FREE at Whirled Cinema. I've been wanting to see this for ages so I'm very excited! Although it may not be the most chilled out Friday evening ever.

Saturday: I'll be buying lovely postcards in the morning, but after that? Bum Bum Train is the only club night I know to get regular complaints. I clearly approve of this, so where else would I be this evening? Sat in watching X-Factor? No.

Sunday: Nooooo, don't make me do anything today. Let me be lazy. I might still be frozen. If I'm not then I might go and see the light displays at Covent Garden market. Although really, this is another excuse for mulled wine.

Brrrrrr...hot chocolate.

Flickr image of little icicles from Rebecca..'s photostream. That's how cold I am people. Little icicles.

And First Out on Friday was...

Mon, 17 Nov 2008 14:23:00 GMT

So, nice weekend, was it? Mine was a much-needed mix of laziness, procrastination, and catching up with friends I hadn’t seen for ages. I didn’t even make it to Kimono Krush on Friday like I'd planned. Instead I got distracted by happy hour in the cosy basement bar of First Out Café, just around the corner from Sin nightclub off Tottenham Court Road. I popped in to meet Beth for a quick drink on the way home from work, but unfortunately I hadn’t factored in that their massive jugs of sangria were only £8.50, and therefore irresistible. Add to that the best cheesecake in the West End plus an assortment of bootylicious ladies, and I was content to stay there far longer than I should have. By the time I made my woozy way home, the sequin-studded shoes I’d purchased for an evening’s dancing were only good for admiring hazily from where I’d crashed on the sofa. Charlotte made a valiant effort at persuading me back out into town, but by then I was a drooling, immoveable mess.

But please don’t judge me too harshly for the epic failure that was Friday night. I had had a busy week, after all. The Gay Camberwell night at Sun and Doves on Wednesday was wonderful. The film was fantastic, the atmosphere friendly, and the cocktails delicious. On the otherwise bleak and intimidating Coldharbour Lane, Sun and Doves is a warm and cosy gem. And since it’s Pink November for another two weeks yet, I’m sure I’ll be going to some of the other events. Just as long as I can avoid the temptations of First Out along the way...

(Flickr image via Beccalicious' photostream)

Arty Secrets

Mon, 17 Nov 2008 11:58:00 GMT

Hello boys and girls! How's Monday treating you so far? How was your weekend? Mine was actually pretty quiet - Sunday papers, long walks in the park. Not exactly rock 'n' roll I know, but now I'm full of beans to tell you what I'm up to this week.

It might come as a surprise how arty young Poppy can be, dear readers. I don't just mean I find myself in Freud more often than I should either.

Every year, around this time, I get so giddy with excitement that RCA Secrets is back, that instead of buying Christmas presents (someone had to mention it) I've been saving my pennies so I can buy postcards! Hooray!

So what's the deal with Secrets? Well, it's an exhibition of 2700 postcards from everyone from art students to famous Turner Prize winners. The best bit? Well at the end of the week, you can snap up the ones you like for £40 each. But you don't know who's behind the artwork. You could be snapping up a piece worth thousands without even realising it. It might just be the best £40 you've ever spent.

You've got to register to buy, so make sure you do that by Wednesday. Then fight me for the prettiest postys. Just don't go sending a Tracey Emin through the post to your mum, OK?

RCA secrets is Royal College of Art on Kensington Gore and runs until Friday. You must be registered by Wednesday if you want to buy anything and the sale starts at 8am on Saturday so make sure you get there early.

Calling Time on Time Out? or, Write for Poppycockney!

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 17:09:00 GMT

Oh dear. Rumour has it (OK, fine I read on Londonist) that Time Out are doing a spot of firing. No less than 13 staff apparently. Maybe it has something to do with the fact their website is rubbish and everyone is reading Londonist and Poppycockney instead?

You see, I love the other Poppycockney guys and their antics (really guys, you're all gorgeous), but I've decided that seeing as I keep getting pissed and giving people the Poppycockney HQ keys, I might as well open the doors entirely and invite anyone who'd like to write for us to give it a shot. I can't promise to pay you (unless you really really like cocktails, and then you'll be set for life) but I can sneak you into a few clubs and things for free. We'll see about the fame and fortune a little later down the line.

Send me your blogs, your links, your samples, and even shout at me for writer exploitation if you like. I'm off to the pub but I promise to reply later on when I'm pissed.

Flickr image from mezone's photostream.

A Suitably Educated Cat

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 16:36:00 GMT

Good news all! I've had a (sort of) productive week.

I'm writing again! I've written a whole scene for my biopic/screenplay, 'Dead', in which the protagonist, (also called Dead), chases a cat around the yard with a bread knife, wearing only his underwear. There's not much dialogue, but it's a key scene for... character development &c.

Writing this made me wish I had a cat...

If I had a suitably educated cat, (like Ed Reardon's cat - he seems smart) maybe I'd have had someone to accompany me to the launch of Simon Armitage's new book of war poetry (which is excellent) on Wednesday. However, being as the greater part of my friendship group comprises illiterate scum holed up in urban art barns, I couldn't persuade anyone to help me commemorate the day after remembrance day in any other way than watching repeated episodes of Sharpe and downing a shot of Crème de Cassis every time Sean Bean calls someone a bastard, shoots someone, or shags someone.

So, I haven't actually left the [ware]house much at all this week. I did have the pleasure of sitting in on some of Big Narstie's album recording sessions in a secret location up the road, though, and for anyone who thinks the marriage of grime and indie is an ill-advised or indeed fleeting thing, think again, fool!

If you're stuck for something to do tonight you could do a lot worse than popping to London's best venue, The Luminaire in Kilburn, to see So Say So play their debut gig.

Actually... that's rather presumptuous, isn't it? This being their debut gig, it could feasibly be the worst thing happening in the whole city tonight. I hope not... I doubt it... I guess you'll have to find out for yourselves, otherwise I'll let you know...

Slow Service at 1901

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 09:00:00 GMT

Earlier this week, I told you about how I was heading out for a meal for a friend’s birthday on Tuesday. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a bit of a debacle. For starters, it turns out Aurora’s name has now changed to 1901. But it doesn’t say this on the website. And neither do the staff when you call up to make a reservation, or confirm your booking. So, because none of this is mentioned anywhere, this led to a few hitches in getting everyone assembled in the right place. As Poppy found out with Busaba, birthdays can be organisational nightmares at the best of times. So discovering that everyone invited has been given completely false instructions for the evening isn’t the best start.

And once we arrived there wasn’t much improvement. Although the food was delicious and the staff charming and solicitous (especially the gent with the wine list, who knew everything imaginable about booze of all kinds, and was very charismatic and wise), the service was S-L-O-O-O-W. Which is not so wonderful when your attentions are fixed on slapping away the wandering hands of an unwanted guest. (Unwanted by me, I mean. I’m assuming not by the birthday girl, because she wouldn’t have invited him if that was the case. But he and I have what is known in polite terms as history. Or, put more bluntly, there was a period where we would have drunken fumbles on a semi-regular basis. Whilst I have very thoroughly moved onto pastures more exotic, he clearly has not.) Like I mentioned earlier, I was desperate to make a hasty exit in order to make it to the Gay Camberwell event at Sun and Doves, so a forty-minute wait between expensive courses whilst smacking the sleaze’s tentacles away from my knees was not exactly what I needed.

In the end I feigned illness so I could make a sharp exit. And I just about made it to Camberwell in time for But I’m A Cheerleader. But, I’ll have to tell you about that another time, because I’m off out tonight to Kimono Krush, so I'd best scramble and get some work done if I'm going to get finished at the office in time.

Have lovely weekends, ladies and gents!

(Flickr image via diongillard's photostream)

A (Tatty) Devine Gift

Thu, 13 Nov 2008 14:54:00 GMT

Oh my. I love Ben so much today! Look at that pretty pretty pretty necklace he bought me! It says 'Poppy' on it! How cute! He's a clever boy, it's from my favourite jewellery shop Tatty Devine. I'm a bit in love with all of their stuff. Everything. Especially their horse and carriage necklace. But my favourite thing is now this Poppy necklace. I'll wear it always.

The clever boy thought to present it to me this morning with a latte from the shop down the road. Somehow, after years of buying me sci-fi books and video games, Ben's finally bought me something perfect. He's such a sweetie.

In the meantime, I'm checking out the fabulous Tatty Devine website and planning a trip to their Soho branch later. A girl can never have too much jewellery right?

Off to the Hawley - if I'm not still poorly (groan)

Wed, 12 Nov 2008 17:20:00 GMT

Ugh. Sorry for the sluggish type-up today. Was off with flu yesterday (the real thing, not man flu) but dragged myself in to work today since I don’t want my boss to get too happy with the hot-shot new temp that’s started at our place. She’s too bloody eager, and she’s prettier than me (Jamie, you’ll be glad to know there’s no room for any more temps in here).

Anyway, the flu means I’ll be missing Cybersonica Social at the Fleapit tonight, which I’m disappointed about ‘cause it looks ace.

Instead I’m off home to make a chocolate cake for my flatmate’s birthday, which we’ll be celebrating on Friday (flu permitting) at the Hawley Arms. It’s an over-egged pub if you ask me, but it’ll be nice to see it up and running again after the fire in Camden earlier this year.

Anyway, I’m off home to make that cake and then dive into my pit for another night of sweating (don’t you just love it when us guys have colds?).

Photo courtesy of Jason pittock’s photostream

They Call it 'Temping' For a Reason

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 23:20:00 GMT

That whole temping thing – didn't work: so not me. Apparently I wasn't inputting data fast enough. The thing is, they were paying me by the hour, and the data (whatever it was, I wasn't really paying attention, I was looking at pictures of cuttlefish on Google Images) was officially infinite, and so my enthusiasm for “cracking on” was minimal.

At the risk of sounding crude, I felt more like cracking off, (and not because of the cuttlefish); offices, even ones that specialise in mind-numbing, actual torture, are breeding grounds for well-groomed, healthy young females.

This may have been my downfall. Like Robinson Crusoe, I've been marooned on a secluded island (warehouse) for years (weeks) with little-to-no human contact. And I don't even have a basketball called Friday for company.

So, at work, I took the earliest opportunity to corner a girl in the kitchen and try to force an unusual variety of herbal tea on her. She must have told on me. Bitch.

Anyway, Chelsea is horrible and full of angry old women and men in suits who look like zombies and women in hats whose skin isn't that colour naturally and sexy, unattainable, sexy au pairs leading preposterously uniformed children around by the hands. And Bob Geldof. The Kings Road is a version of hell.

Much more pleasant is the walk from Hackney Wick, over the motorway bridge, to Growing Concerns garden centre by Victoria Park – a lovely and unlikely little haven of green just a stone's throw from my industrial wasteland home - where I consoled myself by investing in a money plant.

My first child. I have called it 'Cuttlefish The Succulent', or 'Cuttle' for short. Now I can sit in all day and stroke its waxy leaves by the windowsill and dream of riches, before going to sleep at night with it breathing at my side.

No more jobs for me. Not till the new year anyway...

Poppy is twittering.

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 13:51:00 GMT

Happy birthday roses on my desk from Graham. A day late. But still lovely, right?

On Aurora, Andaz, and Avoiding Ice Skating-Related Accidents

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 09:00:00 GMT

I’m off out for tea tonight. Like I’ve said before, I don’t often do this. I prefer to save my pennies for spending on ridiculous shoes, kahlua and the door price of getting into places I can dance. But this evening I’m headed to Aurora, in Andaz (formerly the Great Eastern Hotel) on Liverpool Street. It’s for a friend’s birthday, but I’m hoping I can slip away in time to make it to Sun & Doves for the start of their film night, which I mentioned yesterday. I was a bit worried I might get distracted by Broadgate Ice Rink, which is just behind Liverpool Street station, but luckily it doesn’t open until the weekend. I get a bit delirious when the ice rinks start opening. I start having fantasies about wearing costumes made from spandex and sequins, and of pirouetting on my skates like a demented Jayne Torvill in desperate search of Christopher Dean. Probably best this year that I avoid them altogether, and stick to watching from the sidelines whilst chugging mulled wine. Although I might end up just as disorientated, at least that way I’ll hopefully have less bruises.

(Flickr image via Tsuki Engel’s photostream)

Photo Evidence...

Mon, 10 Nov 2008 16:15:00 GMT

Apparently this is the drag queen I was eating cake with. It's all coming back to me now...