steven.vu

Corporate branding | Rush Hour 2 | Vietnamese food at Kingsland Rd.

Rush Hour 2

Chris Leslie Evernden aka Concept and Ayi were set to play at Rush Hour 2. A Chinese party organised by JnG promotions. He called me the day before.

I’m not a particularly busy person so said I’d come. After trying to convince a few people to come and watch and failing, I decided to go by myself.

The venue was in Bank, 24 Cornhill Rd and in a club called Abacus. Rather upmarket.

I got there and said I was on Concepts guestlist. She looked at me in awe. Was Chris this famous? She turned around and spoke to her boss; he said sorry, it’s still £10. Obviously he wasn’t that famous.

I mulled around by myself for 20 odd minutes and had a couple by myself. I bumped into Chris’s friend and got even more drunk.

Chris and Ayi got on stage at 1am. They were awful. Not because they were awful, but because the sound was awful. All you could hear was a beat, feedback every few seconds and a mess. If the sound was better, then I’m sure it wouldn’t have been that bad.

Branding.

We’re trying to create a brand. The brochure had a very corporate image so we decided to add in a mascot. I stumbled past istock.com and bought some vector monsters. We used our swatch to colour them and made some nice ID cards. Each employee now has a monster.

We’re also getting the monsters made into stamps; if you like a kid then you can stamp their work. I’ll post some pictures when they’re done.

Vietnamese food at Kingsland Rd.

There’s a road near old street that’s full of Vietnamese Restuarants. I went with mother and her friend. My mother’s friend is buying a restuarant down the road so thought she’d check out the competition.

We went to a place called Viet Grill. Owned by the people who set up Cay Tre. My mother and her friend could probably name the owners of most Vietnamese restuarants in London. It’s the way things are.

Weekly Media – Travels through Europe:

I pen this article from a small room in Ljubljana, Sloevnia. There is a rather romantic tinge to the name, conjuring Eastern bloc linearism combined with new Western influx. In fact its just rather gorgeous here with huge rolling hills leaning far back into the distance and remarkably picturesque buildings sitting prettily on the banks of the river that flows through the centre. This is the third country so far, the seventh city. It has been eleven days of flowing from one place to the next in a stream of continuity. Night and day have lost much of their meaning now, I just eat when im hungry and sleep when i’m tired. We leave for Venice this evening, aiming to arrive the next morning. Now that sounds romantic.

Continue reading…

Roz’s and Rosie’s 18th

To Dearest Ollie,

Any chance of emailing me some pictures. I know Raj can’t take pictures for his life, but I’m sure he got some good cleavage shots.

Thanks,
Steven (stevenvu at gmail.com)

The VCRs bleeping 00:00 – I get home, my throat feels like its been serrated with a rusty cheese grater. I’m plastered out of my mind and take a sip of water to calm me down. The laptop’s silent keys are the only thing stopping me from waking up the house – The laptop falls with a thud – He decides to finish writing this in the morning.

Rewind back to a couple of hours ago and we’re cruising with Mike and Dave. The radio is blaring out non sensical shite and we’re determined to have a crazy ass night.We arrive and make pleasantries to all the girls we know, Mike re acquaints himself with Rosanna while Dave and I practise our leaning technique. For those that don’t know, single guys exhibit their “standard” stance. Namely stand roughly 3 metres from the dance floor and lean by the bar. Their left leg (if right handed) should be crossed over so no pressure is exerted on it and the obligatory head nod in time of music should be enacted. If all goes to plan, the guy looks the coolest thing to the opposite sex. Dave and I practise this manoeuvre for a good hour with little response.

An inspired lean
I ask Harri for some tips, she’s a girl, she’d know. I’m advised to use the “Do i know you from somewhere” routine. “it’ll work like a charm” she says. “Why not!” I shout at myself and roll over to a table with two rather young looking girls on. Mike shuffles next to me. Just as i’m about to spiel off that carefully orchestrated line in my head, Mike looks at me, leans in and heeds warning “Nah mate, they’re 14″.

Harri – Give me some tips
My game is ruined, i’m off kilter; Leaning in I ask, “How old are you?”, so as to not be in jeopardy of breaking any laws tonight. She replies “17″, and we look at her in that condescending way which suggests “we’re not as stupid as you think” – and – should she really be there at all. They’re not impressed. Dave wonders by from the toilets and has a look on his face which, enthusiastically points out that we’re “having a laugh”, In his best Al Murrey impersonation. I leave ego battered and continue to stare incessantly through the night.

No dear, use your teeth

Go molester Dave
A wonder around the establishment is in order, somewhere along the way someone is stripping to the birthday girl. I’m pretty sure he just wanted to get his kit off. He’s quite renowned for it. Monika’s sister is there which is nice and her pretty friend. I’m sure Dave liked her sisters friend, but was just a lil shy. I got her to try and molester him but he just ran away. Sometimes. Tut. Harriet berates me about taking pictures of her! I apologise profusely and so a picture of her won’t be going up even though she looks stunning.

Ainsley’s 18th

A two hour Psychology lesson with Gajan at Victoria st. local Starbucks isn’t going down to well, with me downing my xxl latte (I refuse to find out what they expect me to call it; they should realistically come up with an ISO standard for cup sizes) with an extra shot of something. The last 30min ends with me imagining a slot on her wittering head and 50pence pieces dropping every couple of minutes creating a resounding – plop.


The trip back to surbiton is left with me frantically trying to work out what to do for the night. Chance it at Ainsleys, where it could turn into a cock fest, tag along to Tom and Matts or go the extra mile and leave Surbiton for Walton with Mike. As with all of these indefinite plans I left a great deal of fail safe; Ainsley – Mike – Gajan. Fun is rather elusive if you don’t have your failsafes. Remember your failsafes kids.

As i’m getting lost in Surbiton, walking in completely the wrong direction, i bump into the infamous Dan Bolan. He’s accompanied by a twatish narrow minded gimp and oh so cute, yet oh so young, girlfriend. To be honest, 14 for 18 doesn’t sound so bad when you look at her and say 15 in German for long enough.


It doesn’t bode well when Ainsley is outside of the premises when we arrive. By outside i mean down the road 10minutes away. As we arrive, my heart sinks. Not due to the obviously shite time i’d have, but Ainsleys 18th memories. The room consists of 15 guy friends from school, all eager to devour the girls the other guy was supposed to bring – “But you were bringing the pussy dude”. We bolted without even entering the premises.

On the way to Mike’s party at Walton, we bump into Ainsley again, my altruistic hat came out of the closet. I mentioned we’d go to the pub sink a couple then go back to the party when it livened up again, glanced around and realised a group of 10 kids wern’t exactly gonna get served. As we walked around, 30 odd people were seen headed to the house, a good sign. At the station i bumped into some familier AC faces and their friends. Sam, Johnny and Bt. Decided to tag along, even if they were a bit reticent to have me do so. They’re to polite to tell me to fuck off.

I hold out my New Scientist and decide for the rest of the night to prove to them psuedo intellectuals really do exist. By the time we made it back to the house, it had been transformed into a heaving party with a lot of young girls. Brought me back to being a rebel without a cause and I loved it.


Somewhere through the night i asked someone to bite me. She bit; it quelled my thirst for pain for a couple of minutes, and although ruining the artistic nature of the bite mark, I came running back for another. Then another. There were some industrial Goths at the party who I impressed them with my goo knowledge, Alec Empire and Atari Teenage Speed Riot to mention but a few; What didn’t impress me was the use Cocaine. That was, what i thought to be cocaine. On closer inspection the Goth was just reapplying his make up.


With a mirror on his knee, and bending right over, who’d have been wiser. I go over, make conversation and ask if they can do me up. Maybe if i show them how stupid they look and mock them a lil, they just won’t do it again. They oblige. I get Sarah, a random girl who somehow knew me from somewhere to put it on and it’s great. I don’t look the part enough though so find someone artistic, Hannah, to go for it. She adds some streaks on the left and a cock on the right. Obviously totally oblivious to me. I stand grinning. Feeling a touch of humility would do me good I leave and contemplate the various ways of emotionally blackmailing her.


After a tour of the house and taking all the redicule I can endure I still can’t think of a worthy blackmail. I try for the longshot of nudity which doesn’t pay off. Holly is teasing, which is cute. The thought of taking one for the team does cross my mind, but i’m not an asshole.

Ed, our silly lil friend, drank to much and got in a state. At this age, I don’t like people who get in a state. Decided to spin him around a few times and shout non sensical abuse at him. Stuff you wish people would do to you so you don’t get like that again. People started staring at the obscene boy being rude to the poor kid, I grinned. Didn’t do him much good, he lay wretching on the sofa for the rest of the night with his bitch looking after him. He seemed the only sane one there and was rather funny. I’d have a banter with him after every couple tours of the house when mocking the goths lost its edge.

Somebody with a nice back.
The stripper arrived. She was a luvley 50 year old who had the fortunate pleasure of 50 odd pubescent boys shouting abuse at her while she found the lucky guy. He was miles away. I felt slightly touched for the poor women who really should have asked for a typewriter for Christmas.( ‘If you don’t take a job as a prostitute, we can stop your benefits’). All sympathy went out the window when she started berating the mother who was dumbfounded that such an uncouth thing was in her house. I had enough and stepped into the circle pit which had now formed around her and told her “It was a joke bitch, your not gonna get your money, leave”. She left.

Vickys 18th

Update: Tracked down the pictures, please add a comment if you want your picture taken down with the picture number. Pictures don’t exactly match the story but I like pictures.

The lovable Judd

I’m such a bastard. The party ended early, Mike punched someone, someone didn’t punch me and I’m sure Vicky was a tad annoyed with the whole affair. The first signs of trouble arose at the Royal Oak. We thought we’d get tanked up before hand so headed for our local. There I met up with some ruffians, borderline mainstream society shall we say. My big mouth slipped up and I asked them to come to the party; after calling ahead with a lot of pleading they tagged along. Juddly with Carl joining shortly.

Yes dear, I will take some more pictures of you

I hadn’t seen them in ages but i distinctly remember going to a number of parties and having a pretty eventful night. I’m sure the word eventful should have given me cause for concern.

Birthday girl

We arrived with a healthy mix of ages, from 11 year olds to 50 year olds. It was nice. Went through the usual pleasantries and started to consume more alcohol. I think I was still reeling at my AS grades and the state of my life.
About 5 more boys had slipped in, mates of mates, that type of thing. “po” was smoked and everyone was having fun. I had quite a deep conversation with why “capps” were treated worse than “blacks” and how it was disgraceful. The Sargent seemed the safest, about to risk his life on a tour of duty for queen and country, when everyone here treated him with contempt. The middle class and middle England just don’t seem to mix.

The Lovely Harri

When I’m having a pretty standard time, i tend to take pictures. A consolation for not having fun is to capture other peoples fun memories in a picture. Hopefully one day they would replace my own dire memories. My camera was broken so i found a camera on the table. Promptly took some pictures. Felt at home. Morals kicked in that i was using a camera that belonged to someone else; it could look rather suspect. The boy was a pretty regular Hampton boy. Dime a dozen.

Missy Elliot boots on a trampoline apparently

He seemed ok with it all, with me slyly asking to borrow his memory card. I took 100 odd out of focus unframed pictures which I’m sure you’d have been delighted to see. Some where along the way he saw my rather rough friends and decided i was going to try and steal his camera. I was appalled. Not in the mood to argue and feeling in a relatively bad mood I emasculated him instead.

The key is to point out the blooming obvious. The untalked about and they’re in tatters. I think i just asked him “why will you still be in that chair in 10?” and quietly left. Quietly for me anyway. Quietly i hoped he’d punch me, really i did.

An attempt at an apology was made but he made a quiet departure. My reasoning was that if I apologized in the most pretentious sarcastic way possible he couldn’t fail to punch me. I desperately needed to feel alive and he desperately needed some confidence. Break the poor boy and build him back up. Alas he left without me building him back up.

Caught in an uncompromising position

Upstairs the usual was happening while downstairs the usual whining was happening; about why so and so shouldn’t be doing anything with so and so. I tried to detach myself from the whole affair.

Other trouble was brewing, the father had found the ruffians and told them to leave in a bit of an abrupt manner. Something you don’t particularly want to do when the punk just loves squaring up. The party ended abruptly and everyone left, with a little coercion that is.

I followed the tribe with Monika in tow. I’d forgotten my bag so ran back. 5 minutes later Monika called, Are you ok? “nOo”. Another minute and Mike comes back distraught telling me they played hopscotch on car roofs. I smiled. He then showed me his swollen thumb. tut tut.

Fiona’s Birthday

Click to view the rest of the pictures

The reason for taking so long to write this, is for the life of me I can’t remember how to use apostrophe’s. Oh well.

I hadn’t been out for a good two weeks other than to go to the cinema by myself. Nights out just aren’t particularly hitting the spot for me anymore. I decided however, that this party would be different, and even if it wasn’t it’d be at least nice to catch up with people.

I decided to meet up with Mike and Maddy early, as I was a tad apprehensive at what Dave had found me to wear. I was right to be. The costume he had found was a 2 piece overall which had an all brick motif. A left over from an old panto, where it stared as “Humpty Dumpty’s Brick wall”. I smiled and quickly ordered two pints for some Dutch courage. We walked the hideously young girl to the bus stop before returning to finish our pints. The more I thought about it, the more it was acceptable, recalling Henry VIII and his Wives. Then again he did behead a fair few of them. After finishing off the pints with a game of pool we decided to leave. I remembered why I didn’t play people at pool; it was a tad embarrassing for him, not being the greatest hot shot, and a tad annoying for being in the least bit challenging.

As we arrived, I got into my costume, a fair 5 minutes from the hall. I was jeered at by the local chavs who surprised me with their wit, announcing that I was a “Bricklayer”. The bouncers gave Mike a hard time as he forgot whether he was Mike or Dave. Fiona came and gave a helping hand with the proceedings. When we arrived, a good 30min late, the hall was pretty empty.

I introduced myself to the Smurfs, Marilyn Monroe, Jorden, Jorden 2, Tinkerbelle and numerous others. I was quite disappointed at those that you couldn’t tell made the effort but I was on the verge of going as Linus Torvalds or Ding Jun Hui (Dress up as yourself due to obscurity).

After drinking another couple of drinks I found myself in the company of old friends. There was, Carl, Judd,Dan,Tom,Vicky and Katie; all of whom I hadn’t seen in a couple of years. After re acquainting myself with them I moved on. Carl was on beans, I couldn’t tell the difference, crazy as usual.

After getting a tad bored of mingling I drag my camera out and snap away, lending my camera to Mike and Vicky. My co conspirators. My Brick outfit mysteriously vanish and appear on other people and I spill a drink on Monika. A chase ensues, me having fun for the first time that night. It felt like playing Kiss Chase in the infants. After 5 minutes I apologize and buy her a drink.

After using the lav, I see 5 Black youths trying to get in. 10 minutes later, they’re on the dance floor, mysteriously multiplying. I hate bouncers who do this, what is the point in hassling people who know the girl vaguely when your going to let in a bunch of twats who you know are going to start trouble.

The boys obviously have game, singling out girls, groping them then leaving when the girls give them the finger. I’d like to know their mentor who taught them the art of copulation. I had a strange thought that some girl down the line, feel for the act. Most of the girls were on the defensive except Monika. Quite happy with the attention, I was sure she’d get raped. I dragged her out and told someone to keep an eye on her. The police had arrived. I got bored and left.

My camera is officially broken. Any donations welcome.