Pencil me in!

The life of an international jet-setting superhero senior citizen can be a tiring one, but rather than wait until I am full of vim and caffeine and covered in jello shots, I shall present you with my final favourite vintage outfit of last week, which I think is perfect for those rare occasions on which one wishes to appear prim and proper (for instance, infiltrating a tea dance in order to befriend terrorist suspects, or gaining a job in politics in order to overthrow the oppressive oligarchy which tramples upon our dignity and has allowed cufflinks to fall out of fashion).

Bob, not wearing a Guy Fawkes mask or carrying a concealed weapon.

The Houses of Parliament in New London seemed the ideal location to display the beautiful 40's Pencil Skirt suit in blue, by Indie Rose.

I confess it has been over a year since I last visited the great British metropolis in the supple and silken flesh, and my memory has been known to fade over a lesser distance, but I am fairly certain that the real place does not contain nearly such an ample supply of police telephone boxes. I have a strong suspicion that the New London sim is operated by people with a strong vested interest in promoting either the cause of law and order, or the return to use of land lines (perhaps due to health concerns but equally possibly due to financial ties, or sexual fetishism). I promise a return to investigate.

Last and indeed least, I indicated that this entry would contain an announcement, which I recklessly claimed would be exciting. And it does indeed thrill me to inform you that I have created my very first group, Bob's Odd Buddies, which will one day be an exclusive and expensive VIP club with tentacles reaching into the very bidet of Second Life power and influence, but is currently serving the purpose of enabling me to create for myself whatever group tag suits my whim. For the next several days, however, the group will be open to anyone with the fine sense and taste to be reading my blog to join. Warning! Group titles are subject to change any time I feel like it, although I anticipate that "The Legendary" and "Nobody Expects" will remain available indefinitely.

I shall also occasionally distribute amusing items and/or gestures, and if you want 'em, that's how you can get 'em. Find the group in my profile or search, or use this SLink whatsit within your viewer. secondlife:///app/group/2e453ee3-6410-1192-ceda-3fe3336c5b72/about

Coming up soon on The Blog of Bob: Drinking the Frolic Mills Koolaid, and other adventures of Ms Senior Virtual World.

The Beautiful People

Oh how the days fly by, full of good intentions and wispy evenings, street lights spluttering, cream melting into hot chocolate. Once upon a time a week would last forever (if you remembered to milk the goat right before breakfast), but with the hustle and bustle and bristle of the modern world we are swept along in an eternal rush of nonsense, much as that which streams from my fingertips when I have accidentally eaten a whole bag of chocolate covered coffee beans shortly after drinking a pot of coffee.

A memory stirs, gently as a mote of dust, and whispers, BOB! You declared it your week of fashion!

And methinks it speaks the truth.

To show off my next item of virtual vintage I am posing at the infamous Lauren's Place, where I enjoyed an evening of stand-up comedy and a Tamra Hayden concert, both of which were attended by Second Life's brightest, bestest, funniest, and most beautiful.

Groovy, baby!

I am thoroughly enchanted by my Fierce Psychedelia outfit, which comes complete with sexy silver boots, sunglasses with that perfect touch of bling, and an afro (not pictured). Here I am wearing it with my deeply beloved Soda Bottle Cap earrings by Rowena Paine (strawberry flavoured). Hair by Exile completes the look.

Naturally the company was the very best, including Lauren Weyland, Crap Mariner, Ayesha Lytton, the lovely Miss Fijilove, the fabulous Quentin Crispy, the very tiny alien Stephen Fryingpan, and the fashionably malformed Bacon Spam.

The Fabulous Quentin Crispy, with Dame Bob McBoint, and Sir Bacon Spam

The beautiful people, the beautiful people... and Mr Stephen Fryingpan, alien.

Live music events are always a blast and I do encourage you to attend them, should you not already do so. One does run into the funniest fellows at them (and sometimes some considerable hotties, such as for instance Gwampa)!

Finally I should like to thank you, dear reader(s), for your kind attentions to me, and furthermore to alert you in advance to the fact that my next post will contain an exciting announcement and invitation (as well as more vintage fashion).

J J J Joker Face, my j Joker Face

Good day, fine readers! I hope the weather is treating you with rosy soft fingers, and remember that in case of severe cold, porridge oats and whisky can sustain the human body for far, far longer than the government would have you believe.

For me, the last week whizzed by in a veritable whirl of virtual vintage fashion, beginning with a visit to Brandy's Attic, the opening of which I sadly missed. I popped myself over a few days later to see what was on offer, and found myself irresistibly drawn towards a top which I felt would perfectly complement my new make-up layer, and nicely set off the free Mankind Tracer capri pants I also picked up.

I am delighted with the overall result.

I am particularly thrilled by the red Mankind Tracer design which sits enthrallingly upon the bottom of the denim capri jeans, as if Mankind himself had knelt beside me and bent his soulful head to plant a lipstick logo kiss upon my surprisingly firm behind.

To take these pictures I felt it only fitting to visit Gotham City itself, where I lurked in an appropriate manner, waiting to wrestle with men dressed as bats. Alas, none appeared.

Bob McBoint's Style of the Day
Bob is wearing:
The Uptown Retro Sweater by 1 Hundred at Brandy's Attic, along with the Mankind Tracer capris from the same.
Joker Face mask tattoo by Sharodie, on Marketplace.
Hair: Exile, Eva in pearl.

I mentioned, I think, that it was a veritable whirl of vintage fashion, and this may perhaps suggest to the sensitive reader the notion that there will be more posts showing off my expanding wardrobe of wonder, and that reader would indeed be correct in that regard. Behold, I declare this Bob's Fashion Week!

Kindly consider yourselves warned!

Mud-Wrestling With Bob McBoint (but not The Batman)

My dears my dears, what a thrillingly messy few days I have had, filled with mud, groping, and personal revelation! For my psychic haggis hat was correct and I was able to fulfil the wishes of both FunkyFreddy Republic and Yasmin Cao by starring in a mud-wrestling contest at sun-baked Solace Beach.

I am delighted to announce that I beat all comers except for Kalli Birman and Bowie Zeplin, and no, I did not let them win because I love them. I simply acknowledge their greater experience in the arena of mud-wrestling, something I had never thought to delve into before Freddy's announcement. Since I successfully wrestled down FunkyFreddy, Tamra Hayden, Ayesha Lytton, and Quentin Crispy, my self-esteem remains intact. (I did in fact beat Ms Zeplin on our first round, but only because she wasted time writing a rather excitingly sexy roleplay of our fight instead of pounding away at me like a xxxxxxxx with a xxxxxx xxxxx.)

Second Life makes dreams come true as FunkyFreddy provides music for a virtual mud-wrestling match.

 Bowie Victorious!

Ayesha Lytton and Bowie Zeplin make even more of FunkyFreddy's dreams come true.

Yes, for two nights in a row, I (and others) rolled and struggled and thrashed and pounded in a mud pit in a venue shaped like a vast guitar, whilst FunkyFreddy Republic sent us into the stratosphere strumming his instrument.

And, I met The Batman! (Not just any Batman - THE goddamn Batman.) He chose to remain aloof; I suspect he found the proceedings beneath his dignity as a valiant fighter of crime. I resisted the urge to put on a Joker face because, and I will only confess this to you because I've already had an early evening tipple 'n' a toke, I'm a little afraid of the Batman. Though I do reckon he's probably wickedly kinky.

The Batman didn't want to get his suit all muddy. Y SO SRS??

I was further honoured when Kalli, aka Brandy, invited me to be interviewed for a new series on her blog, on the beautiful and peculiar individuals one can be lucky enough to run away from across on Second Life. To be entirely honest I was a touch nervous at the thought of being interviewed, but Kalli put me at my ease with her ready flattery, large deep eyes, and sexy legs.

Says Kalli of Bob: "She has a charm and wit that is matched by none and an amazing sense of style."

You must of course read her penetrating interview with me at once. Now. Go on with you!

No, really, buzz off and read it!

Funky Freddy and the Mud-Wrestlers from Mars

Ahoy m' hearties! Having been struck by a severe but thankfully non-fatal attack of "real life", I now return to you with tales not involving anything remotely related to artichokes. (Trust me and ask no further.)

The eternal question of all late night sing-a-longs must surely be that age-old issue of precisely what to do with the drunken sailor, and tonight I feel certain that the best suggestion must surely involve aliens and mud-wrestling matches, for this is what has been predicted by my psychoastrologist following my rendition of last week's events, and a careful examination of my liver spots in conjuction with the planets.

That, and it is FunkyFreddy Republic's Rezz Day and RL Birthday party, and amongst the extraordinary revelations of his concert with the lovely Tamra Hayden last week was his professed desire to provide live music for a mud-wrestling match. Why people insist on telling me about their strange sexual perversions, I really do not wish to imagine!

Yasmin (yasmin.cao): <--Wants to see a live mud wrestling match with Bob in it!
Funkyfreddy Republic: i'd like to provide music for a virtual mud wrestling match

To tell you the truth, I'm beginning to suspect that Freddy has something of a crush upon your humble Bobster. Earlier in the evening, he declared me hotter than his manager, the notorious SL glamourpuss, venue owner, and no-shit-taker Ayesha Lytton. Of course he then claimed that he had misread the chat and was in fact declaring me more beautiful than someone who you'd do best to picture as a more blonde, less charming and intelligent version of Sarah Palin, but his later questioning about my sexual preferences belies the truth, say I.

HOT OR NOT? Ayesha Lytton, Tamra Hayden, Stephen Fryingpan, FunkyFreddy Republic, and Bob McBoint.

All this was witnessed by Ms Lytton, Ms Hayden, and a very small and extremely funny alien named StephenFryingpan, who I suspect from his wish to find an SL girlfriend is not the British broadcaster of similar namitude. Luckily we were at Solace Beach, a venue where the sky is blue and all the leaves are green, the women living is easy, and the bizarre alien lifeforms are welcomed with pleasingly open arms.

I also met a chap called Mercury Barnes, who declared "Bob, you are just odd. That's not good or bad, but it is a true fact. :)"

What a charming and sophisticated fellow!

Freddy's birthday bash is set to begin at 6 pm SLT on this 25th day of January stardate 2012, at Solace Beach. Be there or fail to be regarded as sufficiently oblong in longitude.

To give the last word, for now, to Mr StephenFryingpan: "WE have a saying in space: Guzzizk blatkula deszizztzzzkxckfs."

Haggis Hats in Hoboland

2012 has begun with a social whirl of music and dancing, sangria and song, from hobos with haggis hats to elegant gowns and romantic Greek islands. Where oh where to begin?

It will have to be with the wonderful people I met at the Mamaa Saiz concert at the Blown Down Juke Joint on Hobo, where I was presented with a free haggis hat and a kilt, in honour of Mr Derek Sienkiewicz' birthday. Attending live music can mean finding yourself in venues which range from nudist clubs to formal ballrooms with strict dress codes, but as you may imagine, a venue full of kilt-sporting, haggis-wearing hobos is a place where the Bobster finds herself immediately at home. Throw in music from Mamaa Saiz (a guitar-playing, blues-singing, rather lovely fellow who shares with me the distinction of a name which tends towards the provocation of gender confusion), and a splendid time is guaranteed for all. Look him up in events and hear for yourself.

Hobos, having a splendid time

Mamaa Saiz is a male person, unlike Bob McBoint

After the show I hung around in order to scrounge cake off the hobos, who welcomed me as a kindred spirit adrift in a world full of people who care if their socks match. As we danced the night away, talking of cabbages and kings and other unlikelihoods, I received the gift of two dresses from Ms Inga Wind; as I am a cheap old biddy who lives on freebies and saves her lindens for tipping, I had no idea what a generous and marvellous present this was until I popped off to a sandbox to open the boxes and try them on.

Darlings, I am as happy as a little girl! May I present to you, my Top 2 New Looks for 2012?

Dresses by Inga Wind Clothing
Haggis Hat by Firery Broome
Other Bits by Other People
Inspiration by Jack Daniels & Bolt of Lightening

Thank you so very much, Inga and Firery! I simply love 91.275% of the people I meet on Second Life!

I shall turn away from narcissism for now, and close this entry with a snap I took at the end of Spirited Amore's show on the island of Santorini: the dashing Spirited Emor dancing with the sweet-natured Dixie Myrtle.

Ciao, chaps and chapettes. Ciao and adieu!

(Read a lovely piece which truly captures the spirit of Mamaa Saiz on the Metaverse Tribune.)

Flipping the Bird

Welcome to 2012, my lovelies, and I hope that your holiday season was overflowing with joy and alcohol, unlike mine which was overflowing with my plumbing breaking down. Fear not! I expect to return to Second Life in a blaze of brandy in one shake of a cow's bell. In the meantime I shall, as promised so long ago, quickly sketch for you the rather wonderful time I had at The Gypsy Bird shortly before Christmas.

Emma likes balls.

Having been invited to visit by the marvellous Bowie Zeplin, I took my dear friend Emma Nemmerson (paleontologist) with me to explore what's on offer at The Gypsy Bird, which is primarily a live music venue and a friendly hangout area for Bohemian souls. Our visit began with Emma getting stuck in the pond, which she did not aappreciate; she felt better after a good smoke of the hookahs, and her spirits positively soared when she discovered that the beach was populated by very stupid flamingos who have not learned to run away from dogs.

Emma is very safety conscious.

Our explorations also uncovered the presence of hammocks around a pond with a shimmering waterfall and pretty floating lights, a large and noble elephant with a richly decorated face, and of course the stage, to which we returned a few days later to attend concerts by two extremely talented musicians, David Perdu and Voodoo Shilton, both of whom rocked us out while we rolled. Not only did they rock while we rolled, but I was invited to join the dancers in front of the stage, and tipped for not taking my clothes off! Clearly the Gypsy Bird regulars are people of taste and discernment.

Not only do they show taste, but they show a wide and adventurous range of tastes, and after the 2 hours of live music we nestled in the cushions of the comfortable villa and were introduced to the (hitherto unknown to me) genre of Viking Metal, including examples of Irish and Celt Folk Metal, from DJ Iscabox Flux. Naturally this went along with a local chat which flowed with wit, banter, and a few snippets of history, which my humble powers cannot do justice to this evening as the holiday season has quite sucked my brains clean with its Clausian tentacles and prickly spikes from Christmas trees that get stuck up your nose at the most inconvenient of moments. I did make a note for myself, however, to remember to credit Bryndis Madrigal with the creation of my favourite ever musical genre, in her suggestion of Morris Dubstep. I also recall insights regarding Viking versions of The Wire, and, earlier, coded references to wife-swapping.

And then - and then!! - DJ Iscabox Flux topped the whole evening off by playing the single best cover of Boney M's song Rasputin (Ra-Ra Rasputin, you know the one) that could possibly be imagined. Viking Metal Rasputin, by Turisas.

For this, there are no words.

Bowie Zeplin, Voodoo Shilton, Arella Rage, and Bob McBoint, all not naked.

Alas! Shortly after posting this entry I discovered that the Gypsy Bird has fallen victim to the curse of global capitalism, and is no longer around for you to visit. But it will live forever on the Blog of Bob.