Caught in the 'Net

As a product of my environment, a poster child of today’s “Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs” society, and an undeniable slave to trend of all genres, I spend most of my waking hours connected to, thinking about, and using the internet. One of the most revolutionary developments of my adolescent life was, undoubtedly, wi-fi. No longer were we confined to sitting in front of a computer in a specific and probably parentally monitored location. With Wi-Fi, we could take our heavy and awkward larger-than-normal-desktops-are-today laptops anywhere in the house that we wanted, and chat on IM for hours. Unobserved behind our locked bedroom doors until way past what curfew would have been if we had actually left the house.

So, how have all of these experiences, activities, and technological advancements affected my 20s? I am obsessed, dependent on, and constantly connected to the internet. Thanks, Al Gore, for life as I know it.

When I have a question where do I go – a family friend who happens to be an expert in that field, a book? No, absolutely not. It doesn’t even cross my mind that I could utilize resources like that. I go to what I have come to consider a sort of virtual friend – the site I fondly refer to as Wiki. Wiki, and now her sister sites of wic-tionary, wikibooks, wikiversity, wikinews, wikispecies, wikiquote, wikisource, and meta-wiki pretty much cover the spread of useful and non-useful information. Now, I wont pretend to have any idea what the majority of wiki’s sisters can do for me, or how they really differ or contribute anything to the original protégé website of wikipedia, but they do exist, which reassures me that I will never be at a loss for facts, correct or not. The way I see it, even if I don’t get the right answer from wiki, I may still have gained new cocktail conversation starters. It's a win-win.

As a resource, the nerdnet is invaluable, no question; just as valuable, in fact, as it is as an entertainment venue. I can spend hours bouncing from site to site. My homepage NYtimes.com provides hours of entertainment in and of itself! Should I venture past the maze of the New York Times, I happen to particularly enjoy thesuperficial.com, the Washington Post’s Crossword puzzles Monday-Thursday (other days are a little too challenging and the failure of not completing the puzzle is a day ruin-er every time), my email, facebook, asmallworld, various virtual shopping venues, google searching, and, of course, youtube.

Out of all of those sites, I would like to devote a little bit of extra time and laudation to youtube. As far as the usefulness and entertainment value of the web, google-image, I think, was on to something. Something that youtube took and ran with. The idea of being able to search not only for movies, homemade videos, some TV shows, music videos, and even historical events like the Queen of England's holiday address this year, all in one site….it’s a generation Y’s wet dream.

As a child of the ‘80’s, I take for granted that video killed the radio star. Music videos hold a very special go-to place in my search for motivation during workouts, as well as for entertainment during my work day. My most recent conquest of entertainment is the following:



I was actually searching for one of my personal favorites, Mickey Avalon, and from his song, Jane Fonda, I found this little gem. Obviously, the name of the “artist”, Princess Superstar, attracted me to click and anxiously await the loading of the video. I have to admit that the lyrics were just perplexing, yet catchy/irritating enough to make me watch it again. The Princess’s costumes and her sick-nasty dance moves left me with a feeling of overwhelming confusion mixed, I have to admit, with a little enthusiasm (my typical reaction to any form of overstimulation – in this case, for having seen something so ridiculous); as well as a little contempt for Princess Superstar who 1. has such a cool name, and 2. actually has some kind of contract.

Is it art? Certainly, not. Is it even good? All signs point to no, and yet I watched it, not twice, but three times. Maybe I was searching for some sort of explanation or intrinsic theme. I found none. I did, however, find her on wikipedia.

Again, rather indicative, I think, of my generation's culture.

Dead Dogs and Royalty

So you’re out, enjoying your perfectly reasonable life when by chance you pass the pet shop on 61st street where the most adorably handsome, fluffy little puppy you’ve ever seen somehow convinces you to take it home. And even though your life is near perfect and you really don’t need any distractions you say, “fine, OK. It’s SO cute,” or even worse you think “this could be fun, we could become best friends…soul mates. Maybe the puppy will be ‘the one.’”

Several weeks or months later, all the initial charm the puppy had (making you feel attractive, snuggling with you so you feel safe and warm) wears off. Now the once-adorable mongrel reeks continual havoc on your life: chewing your favorite Mui Mui purse to shreds, shitting around your apartment, giving you hot and cold puppy attitude, and even playing hard to get. And you’re like, “Damn, puppy. If you were going to be such an asshole why did you let me purchase you in the first place?”

Now you’re in puppy prison. The little runt ruins your once orderly existence, pisses on your shoes when you’re not looking, and refuses to cuddle at night. You pray that the puppy will do something really awful…like bite a child or give you rabies – anything to justify returning it…because who returns a seemingly nice creature to the pound to get adopted by some snot-nose kid or euphonized?

You don’t. That’s why it’s so hard to get rid of a perfectly good puppy, even when it’s clear the animal isn’t for you. So you pray for the dog to DO something unspeakable so you can drop-kick it of your life.

Did I say dog? Clearly, I meant boyfriend.

Well, for someone, this weekend, that actually happened. It was a victory. Sometimes you just need to witness the object of your affection do something unspeakable in order to get rid of them once and for all. So you can exit from the grey and say with concrete authority: “You’re an asshole.”

It’s not sad. It’s cleansing. It clarifies.

Wooo puppies that bite children.

Nuttery

Was your ‘life plan C’ ever to marry royalty?

Now you can.

If my psycho analogy wasn’t enough for you, check out this absurd excuse for a website. Put on your stalker cap because this site actually rates, tracks, and gives eligibility updates on all royals in the world. You can even find your perfect prince and princesses by searching within your own age range.

Cool!

Can they add a search by zip code feature so I see when royals I want to pounce on are in my general area?

Who put this together?

I don’t know which disgusts / fascinates me more…this or the watch enthusiasts forum on aSmallWorld.net where members analyze the crucial differences between a Rolex Submariner and Sea Dweller versus an AP Dubai limited edition priced at $14K.

Fashion Week My Ass

Here’s a question: Why is fashion week so painfully long? I just want my normal New York lifestyle to resume. During fashion week, all once-pleasant Manhattan activities are suddenly on steroids. And if it lasted just a one week as its title implies, maybe I could handle it, but fashion week is dangerously akin to Christmas – you see suicidally-annoying ads and promotional material for it ions ahead of time and then have to continue to watch the holiday deteriorate as people trees slowly end up in their driveway weeks after the fact. Why doesn’t the fashion industry fess up and just call this excuse for debauchery, ‘fashion mini-month’? At least then we’d know what we’re in for.

Needless to say, I’ve completely rejected this ‘fashion week’ excuse to party. In fact, if I see one more invitation to something with ‘fashion show,’ ‘fashion show after party’ or ‘open bar’ on it (this open bar shiznit is 96% of the time a LIE) I’m going to pull out my own expertly highlighted hair. Am I the only human being in New York who thinks fashion week is completely overrated? Am I the only one who doesn’t enjoy sitting through fashion shows in the first place, and then especially doesn’t enjoy having to pretend you liked the whacky feather contraption they body-glued to a six foot starving Croatian girl before shoving her down a runway? For me, the strangest fashion week phenomena is that I honestly don’t notice the extra influx of models and ‘fun’ that theoretically occurs. When I go out, everything looks the same. The amount of beautiful women is the same; the amount of male models in hoodies is the same. And I’m fine with that. New York doesn’t need fashion week to be more spectacular. This city’s so glittery you need industrial strength sunglasses on an average day. If anything, fashion week means there are so many parties occurring simultaneously that it actually diffuses the crowds (and by consequence, the party’s energy). People are frantic trying to hit up six events a night. Where’s the fun in that?

Here’s another mystery. How is it that people who don’t work in the fashion industry have fashion week parties? Does this make sense? For example, I recently received text invites that read:

“Come to Jay-Z’s fashion week party at the Inferno, going to be off the hook.”

“Mandy Moore’s fashion week blow out party tonight.”

What do these musical artists (if you can even qualify Many Moore as that) have to do with fashion week? Why can’t Jay-Z’s party just be Jay-Z’s party? Does no one pause to analyze how ridiculous this whole thing sounds? It’s like if you plaster the phrase ‘fashion week’ across everything it makes it ten times cooler. And let me be the first to tell you that this promise of extra hot women and free booze never pulls through.

So I’ve made it a mission this season to avoid all fashion week related activities. Sadly, a birthday party I attended last night also had a link on aSmallWorld announcing, ‘come celebrate fashion week.’ This made me want to sit under my bed sheets chewing my nails for the rest of the night, but out of respect for this friend (who was a huge hit at my birthday party) I went and got drunk in a bitter way. Can’t we just celebrate a dear friend’s annual existence without bringing the fashion week nonsense into it? It’s like they feared no one would show up unless those silly magic words were scribbled across the invitation.

My next biggest fear…doesn’t fashion week come every season? As in several times a year? And for a mini-month each time? Fashion Gods, help us.

Mykonos Part II: Bad Dreams, Good Beaches

Love at first sight is the only way to describe the instantaneous relationship between me and the Mykonos coastal town of Hora. There are no cars in the center, so you can finally relax since there’s no longer a chance that you’ll
a) die in a fatal car accident or
b) be walking down the narrow, sidewalk-less streets and be killed by a passing vehicle.
In the town center, you can finally let your guard down and meander in chic European style. The roads are cobblestone, winding and so narrow that only two to four bodies can pass through at a given time. The buildings are pure white against the deep blue Mediterranean and the town is a kind of boisterous labyrinth: bars, trendy restaurants and blasting music can fade away in one turn to reveal art galleries, quiet rooftop restaurants, houses with potted plants, clothing stores, souvenir shops or churches. If you follow the maze down to the waterfront you see magnificent yachts and cruise ships sparkling in the distance. Seafood restaurants line the sea’s main piazza. If you head toward Mykonos’ signature windmills, there’s an area called Little Venice where the sidewalk dangerously narrows and you feel as if you’re walking along canals, the ocean lapping right below your feet.

Golden and I had our first meal at a trendy restaurant called Coo in the center of Hora. We inappropriately hadn’t made a reservation but were seated almost immediately when Golden recognized an old friend from Athens who had now retired from mainland life and was apparently Coo’s owner.

“He used to own a really popular bar in Athens and I was dating the other owner’s ex-girlfriend,” Golden explained over drinks at Coo’s long, white bar.

“So if you were banging his business partners ex doesn’t he hate you?” I asked confused.

“That’s why we’re having drinks at the bar before we’re seated.” Golden said sipping his Heineken with a smile.

At Coo we had the best lobster risotto I’ve ever had in my life. None of this stingy American invisible lobster morsels in your food crap. We had an entire, Mediterranean crustation in our risotto, pulled right out of the nearby sea. Delicious.

After sleeping in, our days were spent taking the car and checking out various beaches, the roads to which, merit a novel themselves. Steep and treacherous aren’t words that do these back roads justice. Imagine navigating a stick shift Smart car through blind turns on dusty un-paven cliffs. My nails would be digging into the dashboard until making that one turn which would reveal the sparkling ocean and the beach below, forcing me to exhale and relax.

Day one we chilled on nearby Paradise beach, lovely except for the screaming spoiled Greek children nearby. After we relocated, I still wasn’t able to fully concentrate on my book since I was now in direct view of Mykonos’ Paradise beach lifeguard, appropriately the hottest man I’ve ever seen. As if it couldn’t get any better, day two we trekked to Super Paradise beach (this is actually it’s legitimate name, I have photos of the road signs to prove it.)

Super Paradise had no children, a lot of topless women and the occasional naked old man, hoards of young people, and music from three different sources, forcing you to choose your own beat. The ocean was salty to the extreme and the entire beach Caribbean-like in the water’s purity. No seaweed or fish/animals anywhere – just the sun’s jigsaw puzzle designs. I once or twice freaked out that there was something splashing in the water with me, but quickly realized it was my own bikini’s bow-tied strings. Yeah, in seawater I’m the biggest scardy-cat loser ever. I blame my father who let me watch all three Jaws movies consecutively in one sitting at age nine. I still haven’t recovered.

Since my spastic, fast-paced, Manhattan wired body isn’t used to this kind of intense relaxation, it’s compensating by giving me horrific, stress-inducing dreams. Isn’t it fascinating how our body chemistry attempts to retain a sense of normality? The bad news for me is that my ‘normal’ equals a rushed, panicked physical experience similar to that of an ulcer. Thanks to my dreams, which have ranged from me getting swallowed by a giant tsunami-like tidal wave, being betrayed by my closest friends, abandoned in the woods, and left to violent grizzly bears, I’ve developed a canker sore the size of a small crater on the right side of my mouth. This is the only physically malady I have to report at this point. The large cigarette burn on my knee bestowed on me by Bartok’s Marlboro light the evening we went to Per Lei has healed well thanks to my excessive salt water bathing, and it doesn’t look like it will permanently scar.

In other local news, I’ve morphed into a kind of blonde Bob Marley as the seawater has transformed my long hair into white-girl dreadlocks. If there’s a real victim in this vacation so far it’s my hair, which follows a routine a salt-water – pool chlorine – salt-water – shitty shampoo – salt water everyday. Greek hotels (even the nice ones) don’t seem think conditioner’s a life-necessity (insanity, right?!) and refuse to provide it. Those of you who’ve followed this blog since it’s early stages know that my hair’s an especially sensitive topic, and I intend on entering my locks into deep-conditioning rehab the moment I return to civilization. Soon however, my bladder will be in need of rehab as well. Those of you who’ve enjoyed by good-hearted mocking of aSmallWorld.net will be intrigued to know that there is aSW part right here on Mykonos, and I’m a confirmed attendant. Does aSmallWorld offer real life fun? Something besides a sense of internet-networking superiority? While slightly concerned about the effect alcohol consumption will have on my already LSD, psychotic level nightmares, I intent to find out. All this and more, stay tuned.

Midgets at Pink & Greed is Good

As someone who was extremely well-behaved this weekend, sleeping Friday, attending a simple house party Saturday, avoiding Cipriani’s Sunday, I have little douchebaggery to report from this weekend. That is, until I recently engaged in a conversation with my Argentine friend about midgets (I really don’t have a midget fetish, even though they live in my brain with power tools when I’m hung over and I talk about them constantly). Naturally, the absurdity of oompa-lumpa-like creatures brought to mind an equally absurd phenomenon – Pink Elephant in the Hamptons.

“Speaking of midgets,” the Argentine said, “Did you know that at Pink in the Hamptons people get so shit-faced that there’s actually a colony of little dudes whose livelihood it is to get these people home.”

Me: “No way! How?”

“They’re these little guys on tricycles, except the bike has four wheels. Whatever that’s called. They throw their bike into your trunk and drive you home…”

Me: “And then they bike back to Pink to transport the next intoxicated loser?”

“Yep. No one wants a DIU.”

Me: “The midgets must be making a killing!”

“It’s like sixty dollars flat rate for a certain distance and then an additional charge per mile.”

How the Argentine knew such specifics made me think that he in fact once participated in this outrageous nightlife transportation scheme. But I decided to forgo him the humiliation and not ask. I’m not sure why, but the image of midgets (although I’m sure these workers are actually full-size human beings) on tricycles escorting slurring hedge fund owners home from a night of Ecstasy-ed out fun had me giggling hysterically for days. And since I have no going out stories of my own to share at the moment, I give you this.

On separate note, I send a message to my fellow bloggers. I realize we all write because of our deep rooted artistic integrity and we revel in freedom of the spoken word and condemn advertising (thanks to TiVo we actually don’t have to condemn it, we can just skip over it) and we loathe pop-ups blah, blah blah. But crossing over to the dark side for a moment I thought I’d FYI you guys in on a site an anonymous friend of mine keyed me into. payperpost actually caught my attention because it’s basically a service that just lists opportunities to bloggers of stuff to write about if they so desire and make cha-ching cash. You can also make $7.50 for just reviewing other peoples posts, something I feel most of us do anyway. And as an ex-script reader, critical writer, and avid opinionate, anytime I’m rewarded with something other than resentment for my opinion is a winning situation for me. So I’ve given it a try. My thoughts so far? Even if the listings I currently qualify to write about don’t include my favorite topics which I’d be willing to stealthily sponsor (those being booze, clubs, make-up, thongs, stilettos and clothes) I’ve found the site pretty interesting because it has some good literature, links, and explains a blog’s Google and Alexa ratings, a concept of which I was wholly ignorant of before. In an era where we all have two myspace, a facebook, a WAYN, a ConnectU and if you’re a real loser – a Small World account, who can resist not signing up for another potential networking tool that involves the good green stuff instead of bad spam emails?

So check it out if you so desire, and they work on a referral program, so be sure to enter through this pretty purple link:

I think anyone who reads my blog is fully aware of the fact that I’m essentially a misguided gold-digger (I blame my Barbie-doll mother) so I have no intention of sugarcoating my monkey making schemes for y’all. I leave for Europe tomorrow and am about to pay for everything in the Euro for the next month – feel for me! Besides, none of us write blogs for money … but a book deal would sure be nice, right?

Poking Fun at aSmallWorld.net Part II

Yesterday’s entry was really about preparing you all for what I really wanted to post – an interview in aSW’s online magazine with the site’s second most connected member. I leave the lovely lady anonymous and just refer to her as SWR (Small World Ridiculousness) but I'm sure we all have a sense of who we’re talking with. Enjoy my side comments which are dispersed throughout…

What is your secret to having so many friends?

SWR: ‘Friends’ is a tricky word. Friends can be counted on one hand. Acquaintances would be the right word. I guess it’s due to my extensive traveling from childhood, studying and living in different cities, which has given me a certain exposure. The rest, you may have to ask my friends... :) (“Exposure?” Note: she has over 2,000 “acquaintances” which has earned her the honor as aSW’s second most connected member. I wonder if she gets some sort of crown?)

How often do you log onto ASW? What is your favorite thing about the site?

SWR: I used to spend quite a long time [on the site], up to less than couple of years ago. Now I log on mostly on a daily basis to at least check my messages, as it is the only way I communicate with some friends. (First off, did what she just say make sense? Secondly, with two thousand acquaintances and messages rolling in on a daily basis she’s definitely got some techie assistants helping her out here…)

You say in your profile that your personal philosophy is to: “Be true to yourself and who you really are, not the one you are taught to be (this is the only key to happiness and success)." Have you managed to live your life by this ideal? How?

SWR: Absolutely – it applies to me. I was finishing my studies and simultaneously working in a hedge fund. Being an economist and already in the financial world seemed the right way to go at this point. But not everything that looks right actually is. Inside of me, I knew it wasn’t who I was. So I just decided to do what was right for me and that was following my true passion, without letting those close to me affect my decision. So I just went to Florence determined to start my own handbag line. (HANDBAG LINE! Why?!?!? As if the world needs another handbag designer! This is like the loser, fallback career of the century, is it not? Exhibit A, Monica Lewinski makes purses too. If I see one more retarded purse boutique in SoHo I swear to God I’m going to tell my poser Italian mafia friends to stone it late at night.)

You split your time between New York, Paris, Milan and London and you're from Argentina. Where do you call 'home'?

SWR: I guess New York because my family lives there. But for some reason I also feel home in Paris... always did... from the very first time I stepped into that city. (This is one of my biggest pet-peeves: When in the “where you live” part of an aSW profile people put stuff like: San Tropez, Rome, London, Milan, Dubai and Los Angeles. There is no WAY you live i.e. reside for a majority of a 365 day year in all of these places. Just pick one goddammit!)

What prompted you to start your handbag line, SWR?

SWR: My passion, energy and strength for it... (See photo of her favorite handbag she designed here…I think it looks like a pumpkin squashed by a Land Rover tire.)



In your opinion, what's the most stylish handbag of all time?

SWR: Burkin and the Abanico woven clutch by SWR. (Did she really say the Burkin? Does a less original answer exist?)

What’s Your Favorite….

City?

SWR: Paris (Yep, same for a lot of people…)

Travel Destination?

SWR: St Tropez and St Barths (Sigh…if she’s THAT well-traveled couldn’t she come up with more interesting answers??)

Restaurant?

SWR: Nobu Fifty Seven (New York) and Nobu Berkeley (London) (Wow, she really likes to shake it up.)

Bar?

SWR: Rose bar (in the Gramercy Park Hotel, New York) (I actually just threw up in my mouth a little.)

Club?

SWR: Les Caves du Roy (I’m not cool enough to even know this one. Note how she strategically didn’t mention in what city or continent this place is in…I’m assuming Paris.)

Gadget?

SWR: My Blackberry. Isn't it obvious? Lol (Are people like this woman allowed to use “lol”?)

Drink?

SWR: Evian (I wish someone would just say Poland Spring. What a stupid question by the way. I think the PR people at Evian started the concept of “favorite water” just so glitzy morons could respond “Evian.” Water is water for Christ’s sake.)

Shop?

SWR: Mmmm tough one! There are those I like as concept stores such as Colette and 10 Corso Como. Then there are others to actually shop at such as Intermix, Antonia in Milano, Luisa Via Roma in Florence, Matches in London, a Toutes Les Filles in Paris and Calypso in St Barths. (I think this speaks for itself. Are girls like me supposed to be jotting down these names and visiting the aforementioned boutiques when I’m lucky enough to go to St Barthes? I know 10 Corso Como…the only thing it is is absurdly overpriced.)

Top 3 songs?

SWR: Mmm, this one is tough as I absolutely love music. I’d rather give you few artists such as Dalida, Caetano Veloso, Ornella Vanoni, Pino Danielle and I adore hip hop (Nelly Furtado, Big Punisher, P Diddy, 50 Cent, The Game, etc). (50 Cent? I think I’m going to pass out.)

Alright all, I’ve gotten my abusive nature out this week. To SWR: I have nothing against you personally…I mean, I’m sure you’re a fabulous, model behavior type of girl…

Just stop making purses. NOW!

Poking Fun at aSmallWorld.net

Some of you may already be aSmallWorld members, others may not know what the hell I’m writing about. In my words, aSmallWorld is an online community like any other only that it’s by “invitation only.” At one point, it was so small and elitist that only European royalty and their stunning American equivalents like Paris Hilton were members. I’m assuming aSmallWorld was set up so that these glamazons could arrange to use one another’s private jets and castles in Lake Como online while the creator of the site reaped profits from advertisers like Cartier and Verve Clicquot. In the site’s words:

aSmallWorld is an online community that is not open to the public. It is designed for those who already have strong connections with one another. It allows you to interact more effectively with like-minded individuals who share similar interests, schedules, and friends. The aSmallWorld Yellow Pages is becoming the ultimate reference guide for what is best in the world and most relevant to you. It is generated by members who are local experts who rate and rank restaurants, hotels, night-clubs, etc. in 60 major cities and resorts. The aSmallWorld Forum is a place where trusted friends can exchange secret tips and information, as well as goods and services from vacation homes to collaborations.

Well, since the site’s creation the number of membership has obviously grown and the “quality” of people has obviously declined (Exhibit A: Yours truly is aSmallWorld member). I first learned about aSW in 2004 while temporarily living in London. I had friends who were members and they’d occasionally drop abbreviations I could not understand (the aSW online lingo) and raved about the exclusive and intimate SmallWorld parties that were usually held in places like San Tropez and Dubai. People also marveled about the effective housing exchange, and one of my friends even managed to negotiate a free weekend at some dude’s penthouse in Buenos Aires just because they were aSW chums. Obviously I was green with envy. I mean, we all want what we can’t have, right? Even if it’s just a bunch of posers on the internet. And I, for the life of me, could not get invited to aSW.

What kept the network exclusive (although that exclusivity can be debated now) is that only a few select members had the power to invite new people. So while I might be pub-crawling every weekend with ten aSW members, if none of them were high enough up on the totem pole to posses invite power, they had no way to include me in their special club. I thought I found my key to entry through a friend of a friend who founded a highly successful internet start-up and was tight with the aSW investors. He had unlimited invite power and after hanging out together in London and NY a few times, he promised to invite me. I’m still waiting on that promise to come through.

Next I hoped to gain entry when a wonderful Brito-Italian friend of mine LT was promoted to have invitation rights. This was a trusted friend and confident who’d pull through on such a promise, yet alas since he IS a dear friend (and therefore usually wildly inappropriate) he was soon suspended from aSW for trying to repeatedly connect with Paris Hilton.

I returned to the States and promptly forgot about this silly site until around New Years 2007. LT was visiting New York and back in aSW’s good graces. They had sent him three invites to disperse to us commoners who must resort to networking on places like Facebook and MySpace. While enjoying beers at my apartment, LT mentioned that he thought he had one invitation left. I seized the moment and quickly ushered him to my computer. I forced him into a chair and made him log on and invite me that very minute. Thus the entertaining kingdom of aSW was unlocked for me. I mean, where else can you find thread listings such as this?

We are in Marbella. We need a glamorous-looking infinity pool, and a boat to shoot on, sometime over the next few days.

Does someone have a villa in the Hamptons for 1 or 2 nights to rent?

I am considering staying at the Puerta America but cannot decide which floor to stay on, any advice?

Does anyone know where to get a good facial and/or a manicure in Singapore?

Or job postings like this?

Midwife required for royal family! Experienced midwife to look after a newly born in a royal household.

French/Spanish speaking chef for part time job in family

CHAUFFEUR & HOUSEMAN/BUTLER - Executive Associate (Salary posted at 75,000 a year)

Private boat is looking for a stewardess for 6 months (april to september). Girl must be fluent English and motivated. Experience is not necessary. Boat will go in Corsica, Baleares and Sardinia.

Owner of a sailing ship, 42 feet (Dehler 41 cr), located in Lavagna (Genova,) is looking for a sailorman (25/40 years old) to be on board for two months in the Tirrenian Sea from the end of June to the end of August 2007. Must be Italian or fluent in Italian. Boat will go to Sardinia, Corsica and Cost’Azzur

Or, if you’re really looking for quality entertainment, check out the aSW Watch Enthusiasts Forum! I shit you not, this exists.

I’m looking to buy a simple timepiece crafted by Breguet, Patek Philippe or Blancpain. The question to you is: which craftsmanship is more exclusive, better valued by experts, keeps better residual value and have better feel of ownership? I think this is a tough one!

What is your opinion on the Bvlgari, Diagono, 44mm, Chronograph with white/black face?

Wow, I don’t know! My head is still spinning from the fact that there are watches other than Swatch and Rolex. Do people really buy watches as investments? I tend to smack mine into bar tops and drunkenly dive into swimming pools with them on a semi-regular basis. That’s why my Rolex is from CHINA.

More aSW hilarity at a later date….