Well, kiddo, I thought you outgrew superstition.

Today’s Halloween and for all my American readers, here’s my bitchin’, rockin’, fantabulous costume:

 

 

What do you mean, you don’t understand? I’m going as The Bride from Kill Bill! What? You still don’t get it? C’mon! It’s totally obvious: it’s the end of Vol. 2, where the Bride goes to confront Bill, finds her daughter, tucks her in and then takes off her necklace (!) and drapes it over a picture frame, in case Bill does kill her and she doesn’t come back. It’s that necklace! Well, a replica anyway. I’ve taken to making my own beady jewellry and this is necklace number two. Actually, this necklace is what inspired me to go do that in the first place. I just loved how frail, simple and yet beautiful it was. So there you have it, I’m going as the Bride. And by going, I mean I’m having dinner at home with a movie tonight. And by as the Bride, I mean my neck is. I’m also having a few Reese’s Pieces tonight (what is the American obsession with mixing peanut butter and chocolate? It’s like 90% of your candy is composed of these two, way too stuffing ingredients) because I saw them in the toy store and was intrigued. They’re orange, brown and yellow, so they are perfect for Halloween. And they are also the only way I seem to tolerate peanut butter and chocolate, because they are smaller than Smarties, thinner too and I only need two or three to satisfy my sweet cravings. Gotta think of that diet, it’s week 3!

 

Anyway, happy Halloween to all my readers who celebrate it, I hope you have a really good time, especially those with rugrats! I tried my best to be a part of it!

 

Live long and ghoulishly, murrrrrrder,

 

Anna

We were just having a slumber party. (update)

Being a film journalist does have perks. Last night, I went to the This Is It world premiere (it was premiered at the same time, in cinemas all over the world, which made it a 3am start here in Zurich). It was a fantastic tribute. There was a standing ovation at the end. You could feel the love in the room and it was really sweet and impressive.

And I looked like this:

Yes, like this:

When else, if not at a Michael Jackson film premiere, will I ever get to wear red superhero-mask like make-up? I totally owned it and the photos don’t really do it justice, since I took them when I came home, at 6am. And please excuse the poorly plucked brows. I never do them as well as my hairdresser.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

 

update: a thought just crossed my mind – do you think the invitation to the premiere party and the film will be worth something one day? I think I’d better keep them…

ps: I always keep my press invitations anyway, I love them more ‘n my luggage

pps: I know, I’m weird

ppps: and I will bet you money that when Miriam reads this post, she’ll be glad to have been too tired to join me at the party, what with my crazy ass make-up and all

pppps: the bouncer flirted with me but I didn’t respond as well as I should have (guess my flirtin’ is a bit rusty). But my mind is made up: next time I walk past there, I’ll go tell him he’s yummy. He’s a big, strapping, hunk of a guy and I think he could stomach a girl telling him he’s yummy.

ppppps: I shoulda just put all this in the post, shouldn’t I? I told ya I’m weird.

pppppps: I just realised, I have the day off tomorrow! Woohoo!!!! Now I just have to decide which movie I wanna watch tonight.

Let’s go ask Melanie. She’s fluent in sushi.

Wowza. I just had the most yucky sushi I’ve had in a long time. It wasn’t quite the worst I’ve had, because the rice was cooked (barely), but it’s a close second.

There’s a sushi restaurant chain in Zurich (possibly Switzerland) called Sushi Kalifornia and one opened close to where I live. Since I was right in the area today and hungry for some healthy lunch, I decided to give it a try. Sushi is, bar none, my favourite food in the world. Evah! Which means: I know the difference between good sushi and bad sushi.

I have to admit, I acted against my better judgement here. Since this place opened, the most people I’ve seen in there at any given time were three, and that’s including the lady behind the counter. This restaurant is in an area where lunch time business should be better.

Anyhoo: I walked in there at 1:45pm today and it was empty. Literally, empty. The lady behind the counter stood there, looking lost and a bit apprehensive. First of all: they don’t have a chef in sight. Good sushi places usually have a chef preparing the food in front of everyone. Then, they have a weird additional warm buffet, which serves some pseudo-Chinese food and, inexplicably, some pasta with salmon too. Yes, I know, I must’ve brain dead for a few minutes to still actually buy something from them. They have a refrigerated counter with the sushi, already boxed up, on display. I bought the one which had a selection of all the types they offer (except some crappy mayo-tuna shit sushi that I really wasn’t about to buy). It costs a fortune for eight pieces of sushi.

And let me tell ya, it was awful. No, really, awful. The pickled ginger was prepackaged and old, as was the wasabi. And the sushi contained: canned green bean bits and canned carrot bits. Are you fucking kidding me? And to top it all off, the salmon sushi didn’t have fresh salmon on it, it had smoked salmon on it. Either that, or I will be throwing up all night and be hospitalised come morning. I have never been so appalled by the ingredients some people dare stick into sushi. Sacrilege!

Anyway, if you live in Zurich or plan to come here one day, don’t have the Sushi Kalifornia shit they dare call sushi. MacDonald’s is probably healthier (and definitely tastier) than the crap they sell there.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

Nothing says “romance” like the gift of a kidnapped, injured woman!

I have sunk to a new low: I felt so down in the dumps today, I didn’t even make a wish when I saw a shooting star. In my mind, I started thinking “I wish for lo…” and then broke off and the only thought filling my mind was “Oh, what’s the point?” And I left it at that.

I have been quite out of sorts lately. So much so, in fact, that I have even seriously considered replying to an email I got from my ex-boyfriend some weeks ago. I haven’t, but the fact I considered it is bad enough. It’s not gonna help anyway.

 

You know what? I have just figured out what I should have wished for. The same thing I’ve been wishing for for, oh, four years now – someone to share Christmas with. You know, other than my dog and my family. It’s so tacky, even just reading back this last sentence makes me wanna hurl and go throw myself in a river, so I can only imagine how you guys must feel reading this, but there it is. Someone to share Christmas with. It’s not gonna happen, I have no illusions about that. But that doesn’t change the fact it’d be nice.

 

Live long and prosper, o ye who have someone who will love you up on Christmas day, peace,

 

Anna

This isn’t Colombian. I don’t even think it’s pot.

A few days ago I bought the newest Shakira album, “Shewolf”. And wow, it is strange. To say the least. Now, I’m not a music critic. I doubt I could still read sheet music (I learned that at age 5 or 6, so it’s long gone by now), I’m completely ungifted for any musical instrument and I have no illusions about the fact I would probably never notice if something was 1/8 of a pitch off-key. Which is a long way to say: I’m not really qualified for really critisizing music.

However, I do sing (I sung in choirs for most of my childhood and youth) and I love music. And I particularly love Shakira’s music. I have every album of hers except the very first, Magia. I think she should’ve gotten that statue in Barranquilla at age 13, not in her late twenties.

But… “Shewolf”? Yikes. I was lucky to find it for about 11€ and bought it without listening in. Sure, I hadn’t had much love for the song “Shewolf” but I figured it’d be one bad apple. After all, this was the newest Shakira record, I had to get it!! Unfortunately, the entire album pretty much follows the same direction as its eponymous title track. Synthesizers, voice distorters (I have no clue what the technical term for those things are, but Cher uses them all the time, so you know what I mean), lots of beats that we’ve already heard. A lot. The reason? Pharell fucking Williams. Yep, the dude from the Neptunes. I threw up a little in my mouth when I saw his name on most of the songs, along with Shakira’s.  Everybody thinks he is such hot shit. He’s shit alright, but he ain’t hot. Everything he touches sounds more or less the same. Which basically means that mainstream radio stations have played the same dumbass beats for a good five years or more. I hate the guy. The only good thing he ever did was that remix from the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil”.

So, Shakira enlisted him to produce most of the tracks and it turned crap. It sounds awful and completely similar. There is not one slower song on the album, it’s all breathless and jerky movements. Shakira said she wanted it to be fiercely danceable but frankly, only someone having a seizure could really match the weird rhythms and beats on most of these tracks. I certainly know I wouldn’t dance to that. My favourite track on the album (the only song I really, genuinely like) is “Gypsy”, because it’s a lot more natural and doesn’t have any of that zing-zing-zing electro disco crap on it. Which by the way, I blame Madonna for reintroducing.

And while I hate most of the music and there are some very unfortunate word choices (English isn’t Shakira’s first language and sometimes, it feels a little forced, contrived when she tries to merge certain expressions) and some lame rhymes (c’mon “Eiffel Tower” followed by a mumbled “throwing the towel”?!), I can’t stay mad at her.

There are two reasons for this. First, the lyrics. The lyrics are 150% pure Shakira and as such, they are inventive, original and just plain beautiful (except for a few snags here and there, see above). Her Spanish tracks are much better than her English tracks on this album, though. The lyrics in them feel a lot more… organic, free, easy. And while I gag when I hear “Shewolf” in English, the Spanish version of it, “Loba”, is actually tolerable. But all in all, you feel Shakira in those lyrics and the lyrics have always been what she’s best at. Well, that and belly dancing/hip waggling/boob popping.

The second reason I can’t hate her for this bloody awful hot mess of a record is: Shakira is the Picasso of contemporary pop music. And she has been ever since her first record. No, this is not a hyperbolic comparison at all. You see, my mum always said to me: “Picasso is a genius not because his works appeal to everybody or because they are all agreeable to look at. He’s a genius because at 20, he’d already done and surpassed every classical, traditional style of painting and then moved on to something completely original, new. And every new thing he did was also quite perfect in and of itself. He was able to do anything.” Well, Shakira is able to do anything. She writes her own lyrics, composes, plays instruments and is always searching for something new. She doesn’t want to repeat herself. And while I like her best when she’s being folksy or melancholic and not hopped-up-on-Neptunes’-LSD, I respect the artist who wants to push her own boundaries, who wants to explore new territory. I may not like the territory she has found with “Shewolf” but I still think she’s incredible and unique. And in a world of Taylor Swifts, Britney Spearses, Mariah Careys, Rihannas and singing Paris Hiltons, that’s worth a lot. And if I have to listen to electro dance synth crap, I’d rather it be hers than anyone else’s.

 

Live long and prosper, peace,

 

Anna

We follow the evidence.

Right. If anyone ever needs proof that Lush products are really, actually and tangibly made from fresh ingredients, they can come visit my bathroom right now.

In the wake of the whole diet-for-a-month thing, I have bought tons (well, tons for me anyway) of fresh produce this week. Grapes, apples, bananas and lots and lots of veggies. And within a day, the fruit flies started to appear. It’s colder ‘n a witch’s tit here in Zurich but in my flat, it’s nice and warm (I don’t even heat, so I don’t know why this is, but it definitely is). Which means that right now, there are a lot of happy fruit flies that annoy the crap out of me. And a few days ago, I found some in the bathroom. I couldn’t quite figure out what they were doing there, buzzing about. Today, I have. I snuck up on them and switched the light on and boom! saw what attracted them to the bathroom. My Lush Cosmetics products. They are literally trying to suck the lemon out of my Lemslip. Trying to get to the banana in my body cream. Even trying to get to the licorice in my Coalface soap and the lemon grass in my black toothpaste. The only Lush product they haven’t tried to eat away from me is my sample of sea salt face scrub.

 

I hate fruit flies!!!! They. Are. Everywhere. *does the googly eyes*

 

And I’m hungry. Very, very hungry. This diet I’m on has actually shown the heart of the problem: while I was eating rather healthily until now, the portions were quite big. Did you know that 30g of cereal are, like, nothing? You basically need a microscope to find it. 30g of cereal is what I can have along with the rest of my breakfast. It’s so little actual cereal, I can almost count the individual grains in about five minutes, tops.

 

Gosh I’m hungry.

 

Live long and prosper, peace,

 

Anna

Maria, these walls were not meant to shut out problems. You have to face them. You have to live the life you were born to live. (update)

The other day, I got a little run over by a train. Not to worry, a train of thought. By Maria, from Just Eat Your Cupcake (a blog I love to read ever since I discovered it). I had commented a post of hers and bing, bang, boom, the next thing I know, there’s an open letter to me in which sweet, wise, wonderful Maria details why I should not envy 20-somethings who have it better than me and shares a little of her life experience. I was a bit shaken (in a good way) by the post and it’s still running around in my head. Any which way though, I am grateful for Maria’s concern. I love that she is someone who acts and actively seeks to help, instead of just passing a little, sad, piteous comment over.

Thank you, Maria. Oh and, you rock!

That being said, I am once again relying on my incredible emergency-luck, as I like to call it, to get me through. Last week it looked like all the important things this week might fall through but somehow, I’m getting confirmations I need to plan stuff and it’s not all looking quite so bleak anymore.

I am also making a true diet attempt again, something which I haven’t done with determination since the time I tried those powders and shakes and they made me grumpy and hungry and weird because they were so gross and nauseating. This one is a 1500 calories diet that includes eating everything (no radical striking of any food group), but in moderation. I am trying this for a month and see where it leads me. I feel so little like myself these days, something’s gotta give. Plus, I am doing it to figure out my Hashimoto’s a bit better. It’s important to see if the Hashimoto’s is still completely blocking my weight-loss or if there is a certain something I can do about it myself.

In a month, we will know!

Unexpected cool event of the day: I got to keep the latest DVD I reviewed, which is “The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas”. A little masterpiece, depicting the horrors and the absurdity of WWII, through the eyes of an eight year old boy. It’s based on a book by an Irishman and it is very suited to watch with children, I’d say ages 9+. If you have children and an hour and a half to spare to sit with them and be with them while watching this movie, do it. It will be worth it and it will not harm your child, but make it sensitive to this senseless, hateful war from the last century. I promise!

Live long and prosper, peace,

 

Anna

 

update: I just tidied up and rearranged my dresser, which is where a lot of my make-up and all of my jewellry resides. I found a postcard of a message in a bottle, on a tropical beach, saying “Travelling slowly has the advantage that the soul can keep up”. This postcard was given to me back in 2005, by my designated therapist-nurse. She always used to tell me that and when it was time for me to go, she gave me the card so that I’d always remember. I haven’t seen the card in a while (it fell behind the mirror) and reading it again seemed serendipitous. Somebody on Maria’s blog wrote in the comments “Anna, remember to Breathe”. Methinks the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe I should heed the warning signs. I will try my best to breathe and travel more slowly (and also not get frightened or upset by the fact I have the feeling I’m travelling too slowly).

Oh yeah, the dresser looks like this now:

 

 

Much better!!

Oooh, project!!!!!

I’ve been a bit down these past few days (life sucks, why do we always have to learn that the hardest way?) but today I managed to drag my sorry ass out of the house. I did a few useful things (groceries, how do I always manage to run out of the stuff I need most?) and then went into town shortly before the shops closed. It was nice outside, night was falling, there was a slight drizzle but the temperature was still agreeable. For today, I had decided I would finally check out a store I haven’t been to but must’ve passed a thousand times, wondering what it was they sold. It said “Kids World” or “Everything Kids” or something like that on the outside. Since I have not seen any real toy stores in Zurich, I deduced this might actually be one. Maybe the only one. Sure, a few shopping houses (you know, those that have everything, like a mall but more compact) have a toy section but these are quite small.

Well, turns out my infallible, amazing Sherlock Holmes-esque deducing skills were right, and then some. I walked inside and it looked like something out of a kitschy Christmas movie. You know, except that it was decorated for Halloween. Nothing like being greeted by giant pumpkins and large furry tarantulas screeching “Happy Halloween!” at you to get your blood, erm, curdling. But really, that store could be in America. There were towers of multicoloured candy in one corner, a dragon slide to the basement (kids jump in the dragon’s mouth and slide down through its body), a mini-cafeteria with tiny tables and seats and four floors chock-full of toys. They actually have the store divided into boys, girls and unisex toys, arts and crafts. On each floor, there are oodles of toys and then there’s also a part where they sell kids’ clothes. They have the entire Nike kids collection, who knew that even existed?

Now, you might ask: what was she doing in a toy store? The woman is 24! Well…

For one, I just like toy stores. I used to go to them because I liked looking at the new Barbie dolls but today, I discovered a beautiful toy store like that can really make your soul soar. Seriously, I was transfixed. Such a happy place, so much pink and plush! If you need a pick-me-up on a bad day, go to a toy store. It will make you cheery again, I promise.

Next, I may be 24 but I still love Barbies. There, I said it. My name is Anna, I like tattoed penises and Barbies. I haven’t got a problem, why do you ask? Sure, I don’t play with Barbies anymore – though that’s for lack of space and money mainly – but I sure love everything about Barbies. They were my favourite toys ever. I haven’t got much of a motherly instinct, so Barbies were right up my alley. My Barbies were always strong, driven career women with wardrobes the sizes of, what’s a good word? planets and in later years, I daresay they were quite sexual as well. I would also spend hours just remodelling their homes and then redecorating. That was always the best part. And no, I don’t think Barbies send out the wrong message to young girls. Yesyesyes, I knowIknowIknow, a real woman with Barbie’s proportions couldn’t actually live. But it’s not really about that. Barbie’s message is: you can be anything you want to be and do anything you want to do. And look fabulous doing it. In my book, that’s pretty much the best message young girls can hear. So yeah, I just had to go check out the newest Barbies (haven’t done that in over 3 years).

Boy, it took every ounce of my incredible self-control (hah) not to buy half the dolls on those shelves. They had Top Model Barbies and they had a really great collection of vintage Barbies that have been reissued because it’s Barbie’s 50th anniversary this year. I wanted all of them!!

Lastly, I went to the store because I need some kind of artistic outlet at the moment that involves colours. But setting up my canvas etc takes up space I don’t want to give up right now and when I start painting big paintings, there’s stuff all over the flat within a half hour. So I wanted a smaller project. Originally, I was looking for a set of DIY make-up. I saw an ad for it once and hoped something like that still existed. It doesn’t. But I found a really cool wooden jewellry box and a wooden micro drawer-set that are light and plain. They’re meant to be painted upon, you see. And paint on them I will. Oh yes, paint on them I will. Right after I pull an exhibition for my school out of my arse, write a movie review, write a column and pay some more bills. Ahem. Nah, no kidding now: I’m gonna get cracking with that real soon, my soul needs it. I feel some Frida Kahlo inspired designs sneaking up on me for those two items. The cool thing about them was: they were cheap. Like, really cheap. Yay!

 

After all that, I went to check out the MAC counter and the Benefit counter because I hadn’t been in aaaaages. MAC had about a dozen things I wanted, all discontinued. I came late for 99.9% of the fall special editions. I did find a dark hot pink pigment though, so that makes me a happy girl. Plus, my favourite MAC salesman was there. A big guy, totally gay, with mascara, blush and foundation (and rockin’ it, lemme tell ya!!) and make-up knowledge out the wazoo. I love him and he loves me. As all make-up lovin’ gay guys do. He loves that I keep buying really bold, crazy colours (even though for some weird reason, I always see him when I’m not wearing a single molecule of make-up and thus, he has yet to see me in any of these colours). I love it when he says “that’s so fierce, that’s so FREAKING HOT!” Basically, it’s a match made in gay heaven. Today made me particularly happy because he gifted me with two beyond cool MAC posters that have been issued for the two fall collections. It’s rare that MAC gives away anything, so getting some posters was really something! They are beautiful too. One is a close-up photograph of wet, glistening hair falling over a closed, khol and glittery purple coloured eyelid and the other is a painting by the artist who created the colours for one of the limited edition colour palettes. They were so awesome, I decided to take down my “Diamonds are Forever” poster in my bathroom and instead, hang the two MAC posters. The James Bond poster looked okay in there, but really, the bathroom is the perfect and only place to hang these two fantastic posters. I am now also the proud proprietor of a MAC VIP card, which gets you a few perks (like free make-up sessions) but mainly just looks hot in your wallet. That also didn’t cost me a thing. Woot!

 

All in all: a successful, cheerful end of the day. Don’t get many of these, so I’m happy. Oh yeah, and PASSING THAT EXAM I was so bloody worried about also helped some. Woohoo!!

 

Live long and prosper, peace,

 

Anna