2004-07-21..5:09 p.m.

This morning I had just stepped out of my house and was about to turn down the road that leads to my bridge (my bridge is part of one of the nature trails that meander across North London, which means that from my bedroom window all I see is my beautiful mews and a great wall of trees. It makes it feel very much like I�m not living in the � or any � city at all) when I noticed in the second story window of a flat opposite a Lionel Ritchie head. That�s right. Like in that creepy video where he plays the prof who stalks his blind student and asks if she can see him, and then it turns out she�s even creepier than he is because she�s sculpted his HEAD in clay. Now first of all, the chick in the video purports that this is �How she sees him,� which either means that she�s got a phenomenal (and not entirely flattering, IF entirely accurate) imagination or they got it on at some unknown, not alluded to in the video, point for her to get that close to feel/see his face/head. Second of all, if they did get it on a. totally overstepping the bounds of student-prof relationships, which isn�t necessarily a bad thing, BUT b. it�s LIONEL RITCHIE! WHY O WHY would you want to get that close to Lionel Ritchie? Two things come to mind when I think of Lionel Ritchie: Saptastic heinously over-produced sentimental crap that is good for defunt bankruptcy shopping mall or hospital elevators and nothing else; and greasy greasy long weirdly curl hair. Like that dude in Coming to America. The Soul Glo (hair activator) guy. I swear Lionel Ritchie was the inspiration for that shit.

I�m not a fan of disembodied heads as it is, but Elvis � you�re living the dream, Beethoven � you�re pretentious and pretending to be classical, but still kinda cool for being able to find somewhere to put it, Lionel Ritchie? It�s wrong wrong wrong. As wrong as Weight Watchers Ice Cream (Not because they�re watching their weight, and Ice Cream? How dare they! Rather it is wrong because it has pork gelatine in it. A fact I know because I�ve read the label and gagged right there in Tesco�s frozen food�s section, however I can�t find any proof of this online. Go and check for yourself. Gross) And yet there it is. In a second story window in North fucking London. A clay Lionel Ritchie head. You have no idea how much this disturbs me.

Not only did I take this test and score Total Geek, but I exaggerated AND I�m disappointed with my result. I try not to look at you directly in the eyes, and hope my fringe may act as a curtain with which to hide my shame.

I go now, before it�s too late.

****meep