i feel stupidly christmassy ahead of schedule. the björg took me to the monster that is the new double layered Ikea.
we bought lights and candles that smell like carrot cake and those giant red christmas flowers and boubles shaped like hearts and stars and an amazing giant fairy light heart shaped thingy.
we have put them up already and made hot chocolate. it is only the end of november but i only have 3 weeks before i leave for the uk and i want to swallow myself in festive cheer, because, well because i can, and also being an utlendingur not used to it, the dark creeping in and the snow is making me feel more than slightly fairy tale-ish.
the icelanders will find me completely insane as they dont decorate really until christmas eve but thats rubbish, well, less fun at least. this does concern me as i would like a tree at least by the 10th december if possible but i have been told i will find it hard and that it is extremely expensive. hmph.
i have enough mulled wine spices to bathe in the stuff and plan to do little christmassy soirees round at my gaff before i go.
tonight the Björg and whoever else happens to drop by my house will be drinking mulled wine and making christmas cards (i have glue, scissors, shiney card and glitter pens). we might venture out, we might not. we might just stay in and get sozzled on mulled wine and lap up the festivity, who cares if its a touch premature.
the icelanders don't really understand mulled wine. i introduced björg to it in november last year when we were both living in london. i think it was svenni who said 'oh what a great idea. that's so icelandic, we never think about heating it up, just about drinking alcohol stronger.
for any icelanders who want to try this, it works thusly....
as you can't (to my knowledge) buy mulled wine spice packets here put all of the following in a large saucepan or slow cooker on a LOW heat:
bottle of red wine 1 orange cut into slices quarter of a cup of brandy (can make do without if necessary) 8-10 cloves (those little spikey brown wood things which look a bit like golf tees) third of a cup of honey or sugar OR half litre organge juice 3 cinnamon sticks 1 teaspoon fresh grated ginger 1 cup water
heat gently and serve when you want.
you can fuck about with the recipe a bit if you keep tasting it...add nutmeg, a fresh lemon sliced or even lemon spiced tea bag... just keep tasting it and dont over sweeten.
Oh my folks, I have a great deal to regale you with but it all happened within two days. Sadly the other ten-ish dys have been spent in a somewhat blergh state. I think I will have to admit I pushed myself too far and I knew I only had this one weekend to get through and it would signal the end of the 3 months worth of visitors and thusly the three months worth of continual doing of stuff. But just before the weekend of the Sugarcubes and The Boudoir, I felt myself falling, the aches began the chest wheezed and i was almost at the finishing line.
Sveinbjörg was much the same and we both spent a few days last week in bed, seperately i might add, trying to fend off the flu in time for the fun ahead. I must admit I sat in bed on friday sobbing in quite a serious state of fevered self pity, realising I might have to cancel going to The Sugarcubes and definitely the Dj spot at the afterparty.
That is knight in shining armour Einar Örn supplied me with more of the crazy american flu drugs he gave me a while ago. I have no idea what caffieney type thing they have in them in addition to the usual decongestant but man it sends me loopy. I arrived at the gig with UK visitors Davo, Chris and Matt and Svenni and Sruli. Davo kept laughing at me as I was displaying a heavy amphetamine hit. Incredibly paranoid, sweaty upper lip and pupils the size of saucers.
The gig was amazing, and even though I had to sit down for some of it, the lovely AAA pass meant I could sit up on a balcony bit and get one of the best views in the house. Horrah.
The Afterparty was in an adjoining room and wonderfully decorated by Raven in black with day-glo tape everywhere. I have to admit I was shitting myself about playing especially as I hadn't for a few months, and the fever wasn't helping my nerves, along with the hundreds of faces I recognised. I had point blank ordered Curver not to leave me on my own, but he had to go do sound stuff for the Helmus und Dalli and Sometime sets.
I ended up doing most of the spinning and oh it was fun to see everyone going crazy. Especially The Lady Björk and I have been told the Coco Rosie girls were going apeshit. yay me. I had slyly packed a tube of glo-sticks, as any decent Old School Dj should and I think that made it. Yes yes. I was jumping up and down on the spot like a lunatic.
We were swiftly led from the after party to the after after party at Rex. I should have gone home to bed really but there were people I wanted to see there and i was wired. Oh my days I hate that bar with venom. Even though it was at least half full of the Sugarcubes crowd, it still had a suitably high percentage of fat sweaty orange busniessmen types who found it necessary to swing from barging into me (or any girl in fact) to trying to grab my arse. Anyone who has witnessed what happens when someone unwanted tries to touch me will know the swift 'get your fucking hands off me before your face is torn inside out' discussion which follows. Add to that the fact they only had two bar staff who were in no hurry whatsoever to serve anyone and who dared to give me a contemptuous look when i pointed out Davo had been waiting for over 20 minutes to be served and to be honest I was close to using their badly styled blond barnets as a torch to burn the place down.
and breathe.
I did have a good time regardless of these things because there was many a friendly face, and it was really lovely to hang with the boys, especially Matt. We have known each other for about 14 years and he has been to Iceland with me a good few times, but its been ages wince we had time to hang out. I love him muchly and its always a wonderful feeling to have that reconfirmed with quality time.
The next day was The Party day. I had a mere hour and half's sleep. A combination of not sleeping thanks to the 24 hour psychodrugs and being woken at 9. Davo and Matt got up around the same time which suprised me substanitally. We pootled, i cooked breakfast and Matt painted my toenails.
At 4 Svenni, Davo and I went to the venue to set it up. I was feeling shit on a stick and Davo's somewhat delayed hangover hit him with full force. He was green. And so we began to inflate 200 balloons with helium and tie ribbons to them. It was done in quite a stoney serious state. All of us wishing it would magically be finished.
After 2 hours of this and help from Rósa and Bjössi we had done it. Sometime had set up the sound gear and we escaped home to get ready. We all more or less collapsed and I wondered how we would resurge in time. We did. We went. The party happened and it was ace fun.
I was astounded at the effort people made. It was just how I wanted it, glamourous and classy looking. I LOVED IT. Thank you to everyone who came, THANK YOU to Sometime for being amazing, including a special Thank you to Curver for a huge amount of the organising. Thank you to Manny and Daníel Águst and Malia for djing and the venue staff for being wonderful.
At the end of the night, I was beaten. Very very beaten. And the tablets wore off, my bottom lip started wobbling and I wanted home. We managed to get a cab which was miraculous as it was a full blizzard outside. Burlesque wear is not exactly recommended for blizzards. And yes mumsy I know you read this now and yes it was silly to to out in the snow in stockings when ill but the taxi couldn't get any closer to home and it stopped my overtired tears and kicked Matt and I into hysterical giggles for almost an hour after we got in. Není arrived at mine at about 4am and we sat and chit chatted for ages.
Sunday was spent with Matt and Není and I on the sofa with our duvets eating pizza, looking at the snow and watching crap films like Three Men and a Little Lady. I love the mush.
Since then I have been somewhat of a shadow of my former self and today is the first being human. Sadly this meant that I had somewhat of a low actual birthday and spent the evening crying watching Carmen on DVD which Chris gave me until Sruli came and insisted on poking me into a smile. But even though the day itself was lame the weekend is what I wanted and I got it, no complaints.
I also would like to make an official apology to Chris, for cancelling the video and for being unable to play hostess. I shall make it up in December when I am in London I swear.
Now until Christmas I am visitor free. And shall be a little more of a hermit so I am ready to kick some festive ass.
To see the whole selection of photos from the Boudoir party go here. You really should look especially to see the amazing photos by David Robertson and Lady Lina.
Yes that is correct. The Fanjita was here for the weekend courtesey of Iceland Express albeit a close shave thansk to the storm on Friday. She was a few hours late but that was fine in comparison to the threatened cancellation of all flights at one point.
The wind was so crazy it was moving cars. Driving to the airport in the back of The President's (Stebbi not the actual president as someone thought I meant 'is there no end to your networking') characterful car i did actually fear for my life as we drove past various vehicles in the centre of the road from skidding on the ice or possibly simply being blown there.
So fanny arrived in the first proper snow of the year. This she loved 'Its all like a Christmas cake'. You can forgive her this as she's an Australian.
We went to sirkus, we went to the hot tubs, we went and watched mr Daníel Águst play at Liborious. We ate out we ate in. All the boxes ticked. We also chit chatted for ages and this was not only a catch up, but something i think we both needed.
It was ace on toast.
Saturday night we made this. I rest responsibility of any mental anguish this causes firmly on the shoulders of Iceland Express.
i went out in that jumpsuit. which was handy when i completely wiped out in the snow. I am the mighty Rave Shrimp. or something.
If you are stuck where to get props and costumes, try Hocus Pocus on Laugarvegur, Elvis has some gentlemen's accessories, the costume shops, and even the sex shops for feathery shiny accessories.
Do it. Dress up. There will be paparazzi there and we may require you to vacate the (incredibly stylish) masses if you are letting the side down and there isn't even a hint of flourish.
There will be a cheap bar available, Sometime will play at around 9.30 and then music will be provided for the rest of the evening.
Bring yourselves, good humour, a touch of style and your dancing shoes.
If you would like to spin tunes for an hour or so mail me via the contact tab on the right....
R.S.V.P. required
Yours sincerely Kitty Von-Sometime og Sveinbjorg Pétursdottir
Yes, the father was here. It was fucking appalling weather which was lame because Reykjavik can be substantially more attractive when the sun shines, even if its freeeze-your-scrotum-off-cold.
On the upside this meant that me and Dad (Mario Stephan Ludwig) got a chance to sit and chat, something i was quite nervous about actually. My parents divorced when I was 8 and my sister and I lived with our Mum when Dad moved to Brighton, until i became an absolute teenage shite and got thrown from one familial home to the other.
I have no grudge against anyone for this whatsoever, because by all accounts - including mine, i was a right little fucker. I shall spare you the details.
Anyway at 14 i moved in with Dad but there still wasn't a great deal of time spent just us two chatting, and I left home at 18. This was by far, the longest amount of time spent with just us two for well, possibly ever.. No sister, or grandma or step mother or his ladyfriend Sue.
Apart from the weather we had a grand time. Sruli, Není, Björg and Lilja hung out with us quite alot and we ate wonderous food. Mostly cooked by me, and thusly why is was wonderful. Fish and lobster and orgasmatron specialies all over the place.
I have realised that as each year passes I am beginning to look more and more like a mini-me. This isn't a bad thing I have decided, for popsy certainly isn't aging badly.
