Category Archives: Singles

operation global media domination: porn stalker!

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TIAWell this is odd. Sometime in the last 72 hours someone (no idea who) labelled my blog as porn, using the handy-dandy WordPress “Label this blog Adult” feature. Someone on the forum told me this is supposed to flag it for review and, if the blog is indeed found to be porn, it’s taken off search engine updates, dropped from the “Next Blog” “Tag Surfer” “Blog of the day” “Top Posts” and “Latest Posts” rolls, and the blogger can no longer post comments, which I found out when I tried to inform whatsername with the Starbucks iced coffee coupon that it is, in fact, legit.

Well, now I have reason to believe that the instant someone tags the fucker with “Porn” it sticks, and only an appeal will get it out of the gutter and back into the starry sky.

So that’s what happened. Sometime last night it dawned on me that my hits were half, count ’em, half what they should normally be, and that for some reason my posts weren’t showing up where they should.

And this does not take me to my happy place.

I posted a question in the forum and sent in a Support Contact Form, as one is supposed to do. About six hours later (in fairness, it WAS the middle of the night) I get an email from Barry saying sorry, we checked your blog, it’s fine, it had been “porned” and it’s not, so you’re good to go.

Surely, I thought, surely that would have given me some kind of period of immunity, like a vaccination.

Silly me.

“Referrers” is a stat table that lists the links that people have come to your blog through, and how many came through each. For today so far, mine looks like this:

Referrer Views
wordpress.com/tag/porn 11
wordpress.com/tag/porn/7 8
colddesert.blogspot.com 5
topix.net/who/cloris-leachman 4
wordpress.com/tag/porn/6 3

Yes, someone has gone through 8 or more pages of Porn tags on WordPress, looking for mine. No doubt thinking if s/he can whine “oh but she has 22 posts tagged “porn” it’s an open and shut case. Well it’s not, because I have never posted porn on this blog and I defy anyone to say it’s not PG-13. Particularly since Photobucket took down my pictures of large public sculptures; okay, so the Boris Vallejo was a bit edgy. Believe me, I’m well aware of those boundaries, having dealt with that issue for several years.

Let’s take a look at some of the blog entries tagged “Porn” on the ol’ raincoaster blog, shall we? Because we know you like to look at porn.

BoingBoing on TWAT, which reproduced a BoingBoing post of a RyanAir ad about people (small, distant, probably Irish people) taking their clothes off at an airport.

Operation Global Media Domination: The Rear View, in which we discover I’ve been linked to by both LibertyForum and Nastyfuckingporn.com, a link blog.

If Men Wrote Advice Columns, a joke column I found on Fark.

Beaver Shots. The ever-popular. Beavers swimming in the Okanagan.

Check into the Paris Hilton, an SNL skit starring guess who? Dirty puns, nothing more.

Ah yes, the infamous Marketing Tips for Hookers, an original piece of humour blogging from the Downtown EastSide, featuring stories that were just too funny to go in my book.

The Shebeen Club: Book Banning, Free Speech, and Mein Kampf. How ironic.

Had a minor heartflip an hour ago when it appeared I’d been re-porned, but Barry now tells me that’s not the case and probably would advise me to take two asprin and get a life, if he weren’t such a polite lad, but he is, and he can’t help it.

UPDATE: all my comments, including the ones on this very blog, are now being labelled Spam and held for approval. Swellerific.

retail therapy, from the other side of the counter

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You can always rely on AbFab‘s Patsy for a quick, refreshing spray of civet. She reminds me that I used to enjoy working with the public, because every day I met so many people to whom I could feel superior!

Bit of a surprise on the test, though. I guess I’m just not slutty enough.

Fabulous! You are Edina. You’ve been there, done that, and hosted the launch party for the t-shirt. You live life large and in bold bright colours. The big questions don’t bother you – all you need from life is some designer gear and slick interior design. But for all your vitality you are overly dependent on friends for entertainment. God forbid that your best mate should ever leave you…

minimatters

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From the Archive

Thursday, September 19, 2002

Yaletown mosaic

My friend Sandy is great. The most outgoing woman you’ll ever meet who isn’t annoying, she’s the kind of person who was born with invisible pom-poms in one hand and an invisible Martini in the other: half Noel Coward and half Barbie.

I was in her store a few months back, and she was telling me how much she was looking forward to getting her old car finally paid off, ticking off the days on the calendar until FREE CAR DAY. Her eyes sparkled, even though they had glitter on the lids they sparkled from the eye part, the Sandy part, and although the glitter still sparkled it looked dull compared to the Sandy sparkle.

And it was last year’s colours anyway.

So a couple of months later I go back to the store. I generally don’t go so often, as I have little money with which to make purchases there, which is sort of why the store is there and why Sandy in particular is there, to facilitate the making of purchases therein, which she rarely succeeds in doing to me, but then no-one does, much of ever.

So back to the store I go, even though I still do not have any money. And there she is, Miss Yaletown, sparkling fit to beat the band, whatever the hell that means. As far as I know she would never beat a band, except maybe Coldplay, and only if they were really into that.

“What’s up Sandy?”

“I just bought a new car!”

“Oh?”

“Actually, I just bought two of them.”

“Oh?”

“Well, my brother wanted a car for grad [I got a pen for mine] and the bus was not on with me, not after the first couple of times.”

“The Hastings?”

“You got it. Even the Davie. I’d just had enough, so I talked to my Dad and we thought we would get, like, a bulk discount if we bought two of the same car, one for me and one for Paul. He doesn’t care what kind of car he gets, anything I’d drive is good enough for him ’cause he doesn’t know what people in the Big City drive and he knows I’ve got that covered. I went next door, to the Mini dealership, and bought two. They were like, Sandy, don’t you want to take one for a drive first?”

“Nope, I know what I want. I want a red one.”

Who could argue with that? The car has some powerful magical mojo; she was downtown today, doing makeup at a posh wedding, at a posh hotel, and as soon as she arrived she realized she’d forgotten her wallet. People in Vancouver don’t keep parking meter cash in their cars; well, dumb ones do, and they can never figure out how their windows get broken so often…anyway, she had not a sou. Couldn’t use the valet parking in case they paid by cheque and she couldn’t cash it in time. She was stuck.

But there was a spot right out front. She grabbed it, city-honed reflexes in control. She sprang from her Mini to the lobby, from the lobby to the elevator, from the elevator to the hallway, to the suite, to the bride herself, for whom she recited the tale (in doubletime) and from whom she begged a toonie. Out of the suite, into the hall, into the elevator, into the lobby, onto the sidewalk (doorman only just got the glass door in time) and thrust the toonie into the parking meter. It gave her an hour.

The job took two.

The bride tipped her $45, which she figured would pay for her parking ticket and enough for lunch. Back she went, out of the suite, into the hall, into the elevator, into the lobby, onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel, and there she saw it.

A flapping, pathetic little piece of paper, tucked carefully under her windshield wiper. Picking her heart out of her shoes, she sulked her way over to the offensive scrap and wrenched it from her precious car. It read:

I put some money in your meter because my wife has a Mini just like this.
A friend

Lucy Gao’s email

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Andy Hardy meets a debutante, and does not enjoy the experience. When are we blowing candles?

Somehow I knew I could count on Oxford to be on this like pretention on a 21-year-old intern. From the Oxford Gao gossip thread, here’s the original email. Apparently, she’s at Balliol when she’s not at the Ritz or interning in the property department at Citibank. And don’t forget to look through the thread for the comments (as previously discussed…. maybe we need to revisit the intern selection criteria, I think the emphasis on control may be too high!) and the lovely birthday photos.

Dunno what the hell I’m talking about? Check here for the intro to this whole sorry affair, and here for visual evidence that, even if she’s not as well dressed as Mickey Rooney in the above pic, she’s much, much better pleased with herself.

Subject: Details and instructions for Lucy’s Ritz Party

Dear Friends,Thank you for all your replies and I am glad all of you can come this Friday to celebrate my 21st with me.
Please read ALL the following to ensure your entry into the Ritz.Lucy’s 21st Birthday Party
at The Ritz Hotel London Friday, 18th of August
9pm Champagne Reception
10pm Photo Shoots
10:30pm Blowing Candles

“Candles.” Is that what the kids are calling them now?

Mid-night Pangaea, Mayfair

Is that anywhere around midnight? Only with 85% more pretention?

I have arranged the Ritz to host a Champagne Reception with a selection of Ritz Champagne for all my guests, this will be on me so please come and indulge.

And someone please bring the birthday girl a change of punctuation.

A specially made birthday cake has also been ordered and the Ritz waiters will kindly serve you each a generous slice with Ritz cutleries,
etc…also on me.

Those kindly waiters. And they let you use the Ritz cutleries, too? Wow, you must have pull.

INSTRUCTIONS FOR ENTRY:
* When you arrive, take the Hotel entry on the opposite side of the Green Park tube station [Please refer to your arrival time at the
end of this email]

Where are they supposed to take it? Is it heavy?

* When asked “how can I help you Sir/Madame?”, you reply “I am here for Lucy’s Birthday Party at the Rivoli Bar”

Kind of like “the black dog howls at midnight,” only in this case he would be blowing candles at Mid-night.

* You will be escorted to the lounge area next to the Rivoli bar, where you will hopefully see a gorgeous group of ladies.

Okay, I’m not 100% certain about this, but she seems to be indicating that she has laid on hot and cold running hookers; if this is the case, no wonder her email has been forwarded so many times. Bankers can be bitter if they’re not invited.

If you experience any issues getting in or getting to the Ritz, please call my mobile on 07782 205 450 and my PA Ms Gill will kindly deal with your queries between 8:30pm to 10pm.

Is it really that difficult to get into a hotel nowadays? Gee, back when I was 21 we just used to go over the wall like plain folks.

STRICT DRESS CODE:
Gentlemen: Jacket, shirt, and please also bring a tie (no jeans, trainers, flip-flops, polo-shirts)
Ladies: skirt/top, cocktail dress (no denim, min-skirts, flip-flips, bad tastes)

No, we certainly don’t want any bad tastes.

Advice 1: It goes without saying that the more upper-class you dress, the less likely you shall be denied entry.
Advice 2: Photos will be taken between 10pm to 10:30pm, and these will be distributed once processed, therefore you may want to be
well-groomed!

Although certainly not in bad tastes. There is only so much magic Lucy’s PA can work with the Photoshop.

Finally…
I will be accepting cards and small gifts between 9pm to 11pm…<wink
wink> hehehe

I very much look forward to seeing you all at the Ritz this Friday.

Lucy

ARRIVAL TIMES: [Please stick to these as best as you can, thank you]
9:00pm: Lucy, Sophie Sandner, Kajai, Mandeep, Preet, Sanami, Su, Lisa,
Kate.
9:15pm: Phoebe, Sophie Seugnet, Theo, Dmitry, Ed, Nikolay, Paul, Nick,
Harry.
9:30pm: Marco, Andrea, Jess, Ovi, Yuki, Olga, Kim, Marcelo, Ulyana,
Krystal, Dan.
9:45pm: Sunita, Alan, JingJing, Emma.
10:00pm: Anthony, Rachel, Roger, Uli, Yogi, Gharzi Lucy Gao
Citigroup | Real Estate Equity Research
4th Floor, Citigroup Centre (CGC1)
25 Canada Square, London E14 5LB
Direct Line: +44 207 986 4116
Fax: +44 207 986 4341
Mobile: +44 778 220 5450
Email: lucy.gao@citigroup.com mailto:lucy.gao@citigroup.com

You know that each and every one of those people is pretending not to know this woman today.

“No, no, that’s the other Gharzi!”

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Lucy Gao, revealed

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Thanks to Dealbreaker. My apologies; she’s not in the least platinum blonde, although she is smugly self-satisfied.

Dunno what she has to be so smiley about? Click here for part one, here for part two, with bonus put-downs from coworkers. Lucy Gao, thanks to anal-retentive qualities that would shame even Martha Stewart, has entered the elite group of cybernotorati headed up by Dog Shit Girl.

Lucy Gao, revealed!