Hi, all you foxy foxy sinistereanies, Our good mummy seems a bit distressed about the position she's taken thus far in the Sinister village; were it not for that, I'd be really curious to know how many people remember the ill-fated collective story and (the remarkably worse-fated) collective limerick ideas, and of those people who don't remember, what proportions blocked out the horror of it all, and who really just forgot. Happy Leap Year Day to those lucky Alaskan Belles fans who can still celebrate it. Mine was an utter flop; but I'm resolved to do better come 2004. Yestre-day morning I continued the saga of defying my Anglophilia by going to the dentist. This is now my third Monday in a row; it's almost like I've got a boyfriend. Last week, there was a really sweet moment when my dentist told me that I had 'nice canals'. I closed my eyes, tried not to feel the novocaine or the drilling, and pretty cleared effaced the fact that my dentist is a middle-aged man with silly-looking glasses, bad hair and a moustache, in favour of the image that he was really just a floppy-haired English boy. In tonnes of make-up. It was almost a highly erotic situation. Almost. Robbie Pelican I'm sure drawled this with impeccable timing:

I would like to state for the record, that I for one am all in favor of men in skirts.

I would like to make a point of disagreeing with this. Men in kilts is all well and fine (as long as they don't sissy out and wear pants underneath), but the whole point of wearing a skirt (or, rather, the whole two points of wearing a skirt) is lost when men wear them as men simply don't have the hips for it! Not that I mean to say that men *never* look good in skirts, as in wonderful urban areas there seem to be quite a few, but they seem to be much less common than the men who either look like men trying to look like women with bad figures or the men who can actually pass for women with bad figures. I can't remember, though, the last time I saw an ordinary cross-dresser. Has it grown unfashionable? What's the point of this? Arse-dancing. Really, now. It's as unfair of me to say that no man looks good in any skirt as it is for Leyla to flagrantly and repeatedly imply that nobody can look good arse-dancing. Which is why I'd like to take this opportunity to put forth the notion that the Sinister Village Dance Academy (there has to be one, hasn't there?) offer special classes in arse dancing. Come now, there *is* some sense in it: the kids are going to do it anyway, whether we like it or not, and they ought to know how to do it right. How many times are we going to have to have it proven to us that avoiding a known problem and preaching abstinence simply doesn't work for it to take? My, I'm feeling contentious. I'd better not finger an instructor. Erica's gallery has been up long enough now for certain images to have lost their fat L@@K AT ME! border, and nobody has yet put up anything legitimately vulgar. I must say I'm disappointed, not only in all of you, but in myself, for having not personally done so. But, really, it's not my fault: can a boy make it to 19 in this world anymore without realising the thong panties are a bad idea? Feel free to mail me privately with your thoughts/experiences on this intriguing and universally relevant subject. I hope everybody here sees what a desperate façade all of this is, and that I'm really a quiet, reserved person. The World Champion Heavyweight Introvert and not, as Marie Elia so succinctly put it last week:

Ever Sexy, Ever Tarty, and Ever Leather-Clad.

Laura Llew painted a similar picture, but that was taken so hideously out of context (No, I don't remember the context! but Yes, I'm sure I was misrepresented!), so I won't work to refute it. Not that I could, anyway, at the rate I'm going. I've had two Sini-village job offers, and I must publicly decline the one that I was publicly offered. I don't know that relevant experience should immediately disqualify one for Sini-village employment, but in my case, it really ought to. A boy apparently also can't in this krazy! modern world reach 19 without learning that, no matter how well you try to maintain your physique, no matter how many hours one spends jogging and swimming, no matter how beautifully colour-coördinated one's outfit is, men and average customers do not appreciate one's particular inclination to wear hotpants and knee-socks. Even after one hikes up the apron to it's clear from all sides that one's really wearing those hotpants. And isn't it patently obvious by now that my proper place is across the counter from Marie? Somebody a ways back wondered about the possible existence of pornography in the sini-village, and I must say that I'm in favour of it. With the sole qualification that it be for the people who really want nothing more, and not for the people who really want other people. For the latter, we should erect something of a charitable hospital where lonely folks can come in and have their sorrows relieved and their self-images repaired. I'm sure you all know what I mean, and shame on you for thinking it! This, though is a pale extension of Adam Apparatus' now-legendary kissing-booth idea; as such, I'd like to nominate him as head nurse. The ordinary nursing-staff would have a fairly high turnover rate, and would be comprised largely of people convicted of minor crimes (it *is* community service, after all), as an alternative to picking up garbage or breaking rocks by the roadside. There would be tenured positions for those sordid types who really might enjoy it, and the rest of the employee body would be made up of people randomly chosen from the populace. Quite like jurors. But, as a measure of good faith, I'd like to enter myself as one of the first staffers, to see the operations go smoothly. Oh, dear. /me hurries frantically through memories looking vaguely for content. Yes! I looked this up in the archives already, though, which I must say are now quite fantastic. Plastic Fantastic, even, as you can search even for things like 'arse muscles' and 'fisting malarkey' (both of which I didn't search for, btw, but conjecture nonetheless). I bought the Brian Jonestown Massacre's 1998 release 'Strung Out in Heaven,' and have been loving it ever since. My nostalgia is 1968, thankyouverymuch! I was looking through the notes on the inside, and among the list of thank-you's is named Belle & Sebastian! Can anybody (yes, of you seven of twelve hundred who's still with me by now) draw me a little diagram of the connexion between the two? I can't believe I'm feeling tarty enough to send this. It's probably just a cry for discipline. -Paralis. Megan didn't discover Vin Diesel; but she did manage to make him GRATE. Sort of like Monty Python and wensleydale cheese. It's like he's got all the good things about being one half of Right Said Fred without actually having the social stigma of being one half of Right Said Fred. And if that's not perfect, I don't know what is... +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the undead Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+