"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

Yo I’ll put it blunt if that’s what you want, Yo I am a Cunt and that’s what you want, You take affront, just shake your butt just shake your butt, New York City? What!

let’s all look at this photo of me, shall we? i say we just let our eyes linger over every line.  just stare at it like we can’t believe our good luck because christine has never looked better and may never look this way again. years upon years of intense exercise, daily training, heavy weights, vegetarian lifestyle, supplements, clean living (no booze, no drugs, no smoking fags), coupled with 3 weeks of adrenaline activities (zipliningbungeejumpingwhitewaterraftingmountainbikingkayakingcyclingaaaaaa), flying cross continent, jet lag, lugging around a 15 kilo backpack, and the blistering june heat results in said-body.
let’s just a take a moment to indulge in photocopulation followed by photojaculation.
(no no no…scroll back up)
and i’m SPENT.
ahhhh yes.
zen.
thank you buddha.
so the day before i flew out to vancouver 3 weeks ago, i got the news that one of my best mates from london aluma was going to be in nyc for the month of june. so as quickly as a whim will allow, i booked my flights down to nyc and a hostel. last year when i went down to nyc, i took the megabus down, which was inexpensive and convenient. too bad the scheduled 10 hour trip turned into 12 and was so uncomfortable i vowed never to do it again. i’ll pay the extra $$$ to get there in an hour, fank you very much.
as luck would have it, i was leaving toronto just as the g20 shitstorm was going down, so i didn’t have to deal with the fascist police state our government turned our humble city into, making us the laughingstock of the western world. so after vancouver and just 3 days back in toronto, still reeling from jet lag, i made my way past the police g20 barricades to the toronto island airport and flew over lake ontario to the city that never sleeps and has big apples (or something).
had a slight panic attack upon landing at newark airport. it never fails. taking off, i’m fine, in the air, i’m fine, landing, i fucking freak out. i didn’t vomit this time (thank fuck for that). but i did get the 3 symptoms that lead up to vomitting. first i get really hot, like overheating turbo fever. then i start to heave-breathe. super quick breaths that i can feel ricocheting off my esophagus. and then i get the shakes. my hands and limbs violently rattle preventing me from drinking water because i can’t hold the glass still. this is usually followed by gut-evacuation, but luckily we landed before that could happen.
i fly SO MUCH that you would think i’d be immune to this shit by now. stupid childhood motion sickness has got a butt that won’t quit.
the bus from newark airport let me off at grand central station, where i saw gorgeous lu sashaying down the street in her summer dress, pulling a suitcase behind her. HUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGS.
we checked into our hostels (mine was on the upper east side, hers was in EAST HARLEM), and then we hauled ass back down to 14th street to union square for some fine pub fare and the ghana/usa game where the usa had their asses handed to them. i swear, african kids haven’t been this excited since madonna parked outside their school with a net.
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeef
soyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
this is why lu blows your ass outta the water
i’m pretty sure this is precious‘ mum 
hey meat-packing district! lock up yo’ sons! the girls are in town and we’re GAGGING FOR IT
one more time for the cheap seats in the back
BAHAHAHAH
these next few street photos are my favourite of the entire trip, mefinks.
i’m a shockingly good photog.
this is so NEW YORK

*   *   *   
next day, i totally didn’t know it was the annual gay pride parade, was just walking by 34th and 5th and stumbled upon it! this is legendary. this is where “we’re here! we’re queer! get used to it!” originated from in 1990. as a fag-hag, this is like my disneyland.
those buns….
SERIOUSLY WHAT POSSIBLE CAPTION COULD I PUT HERE THAT SUMS THIS UP
“we’re here! we’re queer! we don’t want anymore bears!”
and once again, i’m SPENT
*   *   *   
so i headed up to west harlem (aka spanish harlem) to watch the mexico v argentina fifa game at a  mexican bar loaded with crazy hispanics drunk on …..well……too easy.
and look who i run into! IT’S AMBER FUCKING GODFREY.
argentina scores and the mexicans shit tequila.

*   *   *   
on my 3rd day in the city that never sleeps around without a condom and a packet of altoids, i headed to the clocktower gallery in tribeca because i’d heard that actor-cum-masters-students-cum-soap-star-cum-weirdo-sex-symbol james franco had now branched out further as an “artiste.” so i had to go check out his “arte
the man himself in one of his video installations
james franco on a merry-go-round. 
adorable? 
yes. 
creepy? 
also yes.

one of his video installations was called Star Trek: Kirk Slash Spock. for those of  you non-trekkies (wish i wasn’t a trekkie, but alak, i love that shit), the SLASH part refers to slasher fetish fiction, where fans create storylines involving kirk and spock…..ONLY kirk and spock….and it’s always of a sexual nature. i guess franco wanted to throw a spanner in the works of that cannon.

i’ve never laughed so hard at a haughty elitist art gallery before in my life
franco’s SPOCK

franco’s KIRK
spock taking kirk from behind
indeed
rufus wainwright is always involved in all things retarded leotarded. 
raising the rufus!
jeeez franco, clean yo’ shit up. oh wait, that’s art. my bad
i found this part to be quite good actually. franco gained notoriety playing james dean in a biopic, and worked in seth rogan in freaks n’ geeks & pineapple express. so what exactly is he trying to say here? CONUNDRUM. oh franco, you are the king.
later in the day, it was this
i was at the museum of sex 3 years ago. i remember watching a shitload of celebrity sex tapes at the time. AND THEY’RE STILLLL THERE. colin farrell‘s gigantic clown penis FTW.
so every man keeps telling me.
so i keep telling every man.
keith haring! i adore him and his work! rip:(
i’ve always been fascinated by people who think fatties who stuff their faces and rub the food in their fat folds are sexy. not taking the mick here, i am genuinely interested. kinda makes me want to gain back all the weight i’ve lost and get me a BBW-admirer up in hurrrr.
i’ve never been in a phonebooth
and i’ve never seen my toes
when i’m going to the movies
i take up seven rows
because i’m fat! i’m fat! scha-mon!
eat it! eat it! open up your mouth and feed it!
a cheese grater condom, aka ‘grater protection’ lolz. 
I WANT ONE.
haha jokes. kidding!
(not kidding)
an old boyfriend and i once renamed the “pearl necklace” a “dick cheney.”
oh SNAP! you got PWNED, palin.
seriously, being governor of alaska is nothing to be proud of, i can see why she resigned. being governor of alaska is like being voted the most attractive woman…….in the burn unit.
true story
more keith haring! love this one. A-mazing.
wish i was this model.
take notes. 
on a big pad.
later, walking down 5th, heading to a cinema on 19th and broadway, i came across my old nemesis, the flatiron building
toronto has a flatiron building that predates this one. it’s just not as tall, grandiose, or in-your-face kinda building. it’s more butt-plug sized.
sorry, still finking about the museum of sex….
these guys were in london for a long time whilst i lived there. just can’t escape them.
then someone bulged up and out to say hello

and before i knew it, i was back where i belong, where things make sense.


“Ladies and gentlemen, Porter Airlines would like to welcome you to Toronto. Due to the recent G20 summit and fascist police lockdown of the city, passengers are reminded to set their watches back 50 years.”

*   *   *

time to unleash your inner Yoko Ono by checking out my film review of new documentary Sounds Like A Revolution so you can chant with the wastoids you gotta die! gotta die! gotta die for your government! die for your country? that’s shit! so very apropos given the recent G20 bollocks. enjoy!
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