Hello smile

I'm Siobhan Curran/Kisa Naumova, and this is my weblog. I tend to write about stuff like crossdressing, Macs, code, cats, wine and Second Life, but in general it's just an ongoing conversation about all sorts of stuff. If you'd like to know a little bit more about what this all is, I recommend starting on this page which has a little bit of info on who I am, and what I'm trying to do — or you could dive into my five years worth of archives if you like.

Otherwise, feel free to close this box and explore...

Hers

Mine

urgh

Miss K

Urgh indeed

Safe Worship

Can't be too careful.. Otherwise that's how you get those little methodist churches

Joanna

:lol:

And Then I Fell Off My Chair

I'm having to type this very carefully and quietly, because having spent the journey down listening to the clicky-clacky typing of a very annoying woman in the Quiet Coach¹, I don't want to inflict the same purgatory of everyone around me.

Having said that, there's two intolerable women clucking personal stats and marathon anecdotes at each other that are drowning out the sound of everything else.

I nearly didn't catch this train. Sitting in a pub in Islington with Miss K , sipping a pint of Guinness, I suddenly realised that it was a quarter to four, and I only had thirty minutes to get to Euston. Frantic quick-stepping, a sweaty bus journey (with little shits running around), and a final sprint through the concourse, and I got on just as the guy blew his whistle.

Normally, in these 'by the skin of my teeth' situations, I'd celebrate my lucky Karma with a cigarette, but I can't. So it's out with the Nicorette and hope that that's a worthy substitute.

So yeah, a fun-filled weekend :smile: A booze-filled weekend too (but what did you expect?)

As I mentioned, K had nudged me in the direction of the Second Life UK meetup, and as I think I need to be More Proactive™ I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to spurn Mike (sorry Mike) and his weekend of debauchery in Manchester, in favour of a gathering of geeks in a pub in London.

I really wasn't sure what to expect, to be honest. I mean, I've never been to a gathering like that before — most of the things I go to centre around the idea of dresses and skirts, not computery things.

Had it been a meetup for some other kind of online game, perhaps it would have been different — but it was a really interesting mixture of people. Some were geeky, some were nerdy, some (like K and myself, naturally) were incredibly cool.

We drank (FREE BAR!), we ate, we drank some more. We played with badges and chatted to people that K knew as Kei. We had a long chat with a guy who wanted to include the pari of us in a book he was trying to write. I got introduced to people as Kisa, and someone said "Hey, aren't you Siobhan?"²

...

Before I go on, I must just mention that someone has come and sat opposite me (the train must be busy). He looks a bit geeky, and has started doing things on his PDA/phone. I think we've got some kind of technology war going on. I have a Mac though, so I win by default :tongue:

...

As the night went on, K decided we both needed some fresh air, so we went out for a bit of a walk around the area. I don't remember too much about it, but the sound of laughter and girly-noise coming from an open window of a house sticks in my memory.

I also don't remember just what it was that made trying to join this party a good idea, but we rang their doorbell a couple of times, got buzzed in, and found ourselves standing at the top of some stairs outside a flat whose door was ajar.

Fortunately, common sense prevailed, and we legged it. I've no idea what lay behind that door — fifty drunk nubile mid twenties women desperate for two trannies to inject a little fun into their soirée, or perhaps twenty fourteen-year-olds having a pyjama party.

It's probably best that we didn't find out :unsure:

Back at the SL party, more wine was consumed by the pair of us, and more people were talked to. I'm afraid that after a certain point, I have no recollection of who I was talking to, what any of the names I was being told was, or what in the hell I was actually saying to people.

It seemed to be OK though — no-one was slapping me in the face (I'd remember something like that), and on the whole, I think I had full command of my composure.

Except of course, when I fell off my chair.

¹ On closer inspection, it seems I'm not sitting in the Quiet Coach at all. Which sucks really, because I've now got no real good reason to glare grumpily at the guy listening to Radio 1 very loudly.

² April! It happened! At last!

Sounds like a fun weekend, wonder who was there from SL Ive run into (apart from you). Fslling off your chair's not a good look lol done that a few times myself.

I hope you enjoyed "it" now "it's" happened.

TransWiccan

Hey congrats — though was it a complete stranger or did he know Kisa? (strictly speaking, I feel it has to be a complete stranger).

Lost Vagueness DEMANDS your biggest dress — you have no choice (lest you be upstaged by morris pole dancers).

Oh and you broke "April's Going Out Rule no.2" — "if you have the opportunity to gatecrash a potentially more interesting party, you take it. Provided you are armed with booze or drugs. Preferably both."

Going Out Rule No.1 is of course "if you get invited to the afterparty or a different party whilst out, you accept. No questions!" — but you've already learned that one :smile:

April Angell

Yes, well, honestly, I doubt that whatever was behind that door would have been pleased to see two quite-so-drunk trannies such as ourselves :wink:

Oh, and he didn't know Kisa — his exact quote was "Oh, you're Siobhan — I've seen photos of you on Kei's weblog", so I'm not sure if that really counts

I Know That Smell

I knew the house would be in a bit of a state when I got home, mainly because that's just how I left it on Saturday morning, me being the terminably lazy transvestite who can't wuite be bothered to do the dishes before she leaves the house.

But I didn't realise just what 'additions' would have been made in my absense.

Long-time readers may recall a brief moment from about a year ago, in which George took a fancy to a mouse, and stowed its decaying body in a box underneath my desk. For several days I was hit intermittently by a hideous stench, only finding out the source later, and having to deal with a rotten mousey-corpse with a tea-towel tied around my mouth and nose.

Popping upstairs the minute I got home this evening (as I do), I opened the studio door and got greeted by a familiar stench.

One of my two little monsters has hidden something in there, and I can't bloody find it.

Oh noes!

Dogs don't do such things. But I won't start that war....oh no!