I've have so much to tell you about at the moment and absolutely no time to write anything. As Nigella would say (coquettishly through her hair) "I'm SO busy!". So here's a couple of things I need to write about, more to help me remember than to give you something to look forward to:
1. "Alien Versus Predator - Requiem"
2. "Sweeney Todd - The Demon Barber of Fleet Street"
3. The Drag Queen's Birthday
4. The Mr Hoist 2008 Competition
(I'm very aware that last time I wrote a list of things to write about, I didn't. Fingers crossed this time...)
Monday, January 28, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Song Of The Week - Sia
"Yeah I’ve been your crutch, your smell sight and touch
Yeah I took you home when you’ve drunk too much
But I can’t survive, with you by my side
See I’ll never get laid, while I’m running your life
No I just don’t wanna, so I’m walking away
There is nothing that you can do I will not stay
No I don’t need drama, so I’m walking away
I’m just the girl that you lost to cocaine"
taken from "The Girl You Lost To Cocaine" by Sia, which can be found on her new album (released this week) entitled "Some People Have Real Problems". Available here, and at all good stockists, as they say.
Yeah I took you home when you’ve drunk too much
But I can’t survive, with you by my side
See I’ll never get laid, while I’m running your life
No I just don’t wanna, so I’m walking away
There is nothing that you can do I will not stay
No I don’t need drama, so I’m walking away
I’m just the girl that you lost to cocaine"
taken from "The Girl You Lost To Cocaine" by Sia, which can be found on her new album (released this week) entitled "Some People Have Real Problems". Available here, and at all good stockists, as they say.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Online Messaging Etiquette
I've just had a message on BigMuscleBears, which isn't all that unusual, being incredibly popular like I am. Er... anyway, usually I get messages like "Aw, you're cute", or "WOOF!", or "Who's that hot guy with you in your third photo?", or "Re: Photo 4 - That wedding dress isn't working for you". I very rarely get anything sexual. I guess I've been around too long for that. I'm not fresh meat anymore, and boy don't we know it. However, today I got the following:
"Want to meet for hardcore sex"
That's all it says. No "Hello", no "I'm such and such and I think you're sexy". And no question mark at the end either. Is it indeed a question, or just a statement? And the guy's not in the UK, judging by his screen name (I've not looked at his profile cause I'm at work, although that doesn't always stop me). If I say yes is he going to immediately jump on a plane? (That almost happened once before actually. I was doing some casual online flirting with a Canadian and he said "Maybe I should come and visit sometime", to which I responded with "Well, just let me know if you ever think about coming over". The next evening he messaged me with "I've booked my flight. I arrive in two days time. Can you pick me up from the airport?". Scarily I did actually think about it for 5 minutes, cause he was really hot an all. At least, the guy in his photos was. Canadians can be really weird sometimes).
In fact, that's just reminded me of something else that happened a couple of months ago. The Boyf and I pulled a Canadian fella whilst he was in London - very sexy an' all - and we took him back to ours for the night. And the next day. Anyway, afterwards we swapped email addresses and he went on his way. A week or so later The Boyf received an email from him asking whether he could "borrow" me for the Black & Blue Party in Montreal. (He didn't even ask me. It was like The Boyf was my pimp or something). He said he'd pay for everything, but wanted to take me out over there cause everyone would think I was hot ("the French Canadians will totally be all over him" was his actually comment) and he'd like to "have" me as his boyfriend for the weekend. It was like he was asking a neighbour to borrow a pressure washer or something. It made me feel like a piece of meat. I thought at one point The Boyf was going to go for it too, but then he put his foot down with me. Shame, cause I really wanted to have a weekend away and would have totally gone for being used in exchange for a free trip to Canada. Oh, like you wouldn't! Really? Oh.
So, back to the matter at hand; how should I respond to this message? I was thinking about going back with just "Nah. You're alright, thanks", but that's seems a little rude. What about "Oh yes please, and don't forget to bring some friends"? (That's one for The Boyf). Or "Do you fancy waiting until after the sex change or would you prefer me with a penis?". Or I could just ignore him. By the way, judging from the thumbnail photo he's not hot, otherwise I'd never be asking you this question, I'd simply be inviting him to stay.
UPDATE:
When I got home last night I had a look at the guy's profile. He's not from the UK but is over on holiday, so that's one tick in his favour. The second point to note is that his thumbnail photo doesn't do him justice - judging from the other photos on his profile he's actually rather humpy. So I don't think I need help with how to respond to his message after all, but thanks for thinking about it.
"Want to meet for hardcore sex"
That's all it says. No "Hello", no "I'm such and such and I think you're sexy". And no question mark at the end either. Is it indeed a question, or just a statement? And the guy's not in the UK, judging by his screen name (I've not looked at his profile cause I'm at work, although that doesn't always stop me). If I say yes is he going to immediately jump on a plane? (That almost happened once before actually. I was doing some casual online flirting with a Canadian and he said "Maybe I should come and visit sometime", to which I responded with "Well, just let me know if you ever think about coming over". The next evening he messaged me with "I've booked my flight. I arrive in two days time. Can you pick me up from the airport?". Scarily I did actually think about it for 5 minutes, cause he was really hot an all. At least, the guy in his photos was. Canadians can be really weird sometimes).
In fact, that's just reminded me of something else that happened a couple of months ago. The Boyf and I pulled a Canadian fella whilst he was in London - very sexy an' all - and we took him back to ours for the night. And the next day. Anyway, afterwards we swapped email addresses and he went on his way. A week or so later The Boyf received an email from him asking whether he could "borrow" me for the Black & Blue Party in Montreal. (He didn't even ask me. It was like The Boyf was my pimp or something). He said he'd pay for everything, but wanted to take me out over there cause everyone would think I was hot ("the French Canadians will totally be all over him" was his actually comment) and he'd like to "have" me as his boyfriend for the weekend. It was like he was asking a neighbour to borrow a pressure washer or something. It made me feel like a piece of meat. I thought at one point The Boyf was going to go for it too, but then he put his foot down with me. Shame, cause I really wanted to have a weekend away and would have totally gone for being used in exchange for a free trip to Canada. Oh, like you wouldn't! Really? Oh.
So, back to the matter at hand; how should I respond to this message? I was thinking about going back with just "Nah. You're alright, thanks", but that's seems a little rude. What about "Oh yes please, and don't forget to bring some friends"? (That's one for The Boyf). Or "Do you fancy waiting until after the sex change or would you prefer me with a penis?". Or I could just ignore him. By the way, judging from the thumbnail photo he's not hot, otherwise I'd never be asking you this question, I'd simply be inviting him to stay.
UPDATE:
When I got home last night I had a look at the guy's profile. He's not from the UK but is over on holiday, so that's one tick in his favour. The second point to note is that his thumbnail photo doesn't do him justice - judging from the other photos on his profile he's actually rather humpy. So I don't think I need help with how to respond to his message after all, but thanks for thinking about it.
Friday, January 11, 2008
OMO At The Movies: "I Am Legend"
This year is going to be a year of going to the cinema, so we started the proceedings early with "I Am Legend".
So, what's it like? Well, it's like 28 Days Later with a bigger budget.
I won't bore you with one of my huge plot synopses, but what I will say is that a deserted New York is brilliantly realised, whilst the Infected aren't. In fact, amazingly they're some of the worst CGI I've seen since Spiderman 3, and that's saying something (ok, ok, I'll shut up about Spiderman 3 now). Why they didn't just use real people in make-up I don't know. It would have been much more believable, and would have greatly added to the tension, which disappeared as soon as we saw the cartoon "Zombie/Vampire/Infected" thingy.
Will Smith does a good enough job of commanding the screen (Will Smith does exactly what it says on the tin), although the dog steals every scene it's in. Having not read the book I can't comment on some of the plot and how it differs, however we were disappointed at the way God, as protector, was suddenly shoehorned in to the proceedings. Ah well, such is the way with American movies at the moment. And it seems as though the film-makers thought it enough to rely on the Wow! factor of a deserted New York rather than concentrating on the story. In effect it really doesn't have much of a plot - it relies purely on trading on the "Last Man On Earth" premise without delving deeper.
Yes, it's worth seeing, but don't hold out for any great social comment - it's a much flimsier film than that. I have a feeling that the book on which it's based is much deeper, and this depth has been eliminated to make the movie more of a blockbuster. That's a shame.
So, what's it like? Well, it's like 28 Days Later with a bigger budget.
I won't bore you with one of my huge plot synopses, but what I will say is that a deserted New York is brilliantly realised, whilst the Infected aren't. In fact, amazingly they're some of the worst CGI I've seen since Spiderman 3, and that's saying something (ok, ok, I'll shut up about Spiderman 3 now). Why they didn't just use real people in make-up I don't know. It would have been much more believable, and would have greatly added to the tension, which disappeared as soon as we saw the cartoon "Zombie/Vampire/Infected" thingy.
Will Smith does a good enough job of commanding the screen (Will Smith does exactly what it says on the tin), although the dog steals every scene it's in. Having not read the book I can't comment on some of the plot and how it differs, however we were disappointed at the way God, as protector, was suddenly shoehorned in to the proceedings. Ah well, such is the way with American movies at the moment. And it seems as though the film-makers thought it enough to rely on the Wow! factor of a deserted New York rather than concentrating on the story. In effect it really doesn't have much of a plot - it relies purely on trading on the "Last Man On Earth" premise without delving deeper.
Yes, it's worth seeing, but don't hold out for any great social comment - it's a much flimsier film than that. I have a feeling that the book on which it's based is much deeper, and this depth has been eliminated to make the movie more of a blockbuster. That's a shame.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
OMO's Review Of 2007: Pt.2
And onto "Best Album of the Year". And the award goes to.... drum roll please...
Da-Dum-Tish
"Ghosts" by Siobhan Donaghy.
I won't reiterate everything you've read about it (you've read about it, right?), but what I will say is that this girl could go a long way. She could be the new Kate Bush, it's just a shame that her albums don't appear to sell. Go and buy it, you won't be disappointed.
Moving on to "Most Disappointing Album of the Year". Yes, it's....
"Volta" by Bjork. A shock win!
So much was promised but so little was eventually delivered. Now, I love Bjork, and that's why this album hurts so much. I worried that roping in RnB stalwart Timbaland would turn Volta into another Missy Elliott record, but with Bjork wailing over the top. That wouldn't necessarily have been a bad thing. But in actual fact it wasn't even that interesting. It seems like Bjork forgot to write any decent melodies, and then Timbland forgot to add any decent beats. A perfect example of a whole being less than the sum of its parts.
So, "Best Pop Song of the Year" has to go to...
"About You Now" by The Sugababes.
A perfect slice of pure pop. I defy you not to have it going round in your head all day once you've heard it. Also worth a mention is "Call The Shots" by Girls Aloud, and "Umbrella" by Rihanna, if only for the fact that it was timed perfectly with last year's dismal summer. 2007 will always been the year it rained alot and "Umbrella" stayed at No.1.
"Worst Pop Song of the Year" must go to... (opens envelope)...
Oh yes, of course, a deserving winner, it's "Gimme More" by Britney Spears. Ok, she's troubled, we get that. But how much longer do we have to endure her breathy vocals over the top of a robotic beat? "It's Britney, bitch!". Oh, purlease! Still, at least she was sober enough to remember her own name. Dishonourable mention goes to whatever that comeback song was by The Spice Girls (I can't remember the name and don't want to look it up and have it showing on my Internet History). Never has a song promised so much and delivered so little. The Spice Girls, at their best, gave us some wonderful pop songs. Why on Earth did anyone think this tuneless nonsense would make a great comeback? And then trying to make us buy it by giving all the proceeds to Children In Need. Apparently they want children to go on starving or being beaten this year.
Da-Dum-Tish
"Ghosts" by Siobhan Donaghy.
I won't reiterate everything you've read about it (you've read about it, right?), but what I will say is that this girl could go a long way. She could be the new Kate Bush, it's just a shame that her albums don't appear to sell. Go and buy it, you won't be disappointed.
Moving on to "Most Disappointing Album of the Year". Yes, it's....
"Volta" by Bjork. A shock win!
So much was promised but so little was eventually delivered. Now, I love Bjork, and that's why this album hurts so much. I worried that roping in RnB stalwart Timbaland would turn Volta into another Missy Elliott record, but with Bjork wailing over the top. That wouldn't necessarily have been a bad thing. But in actual fact it wasn't even that interesting. It seems like Bjork forgot to write any decent melodies, and then Timbland forgot to add any decent beats. A perfect example of a whole being less than the sum of its parts.
So, "Best Pop Song of the Year" has to go to...
"About You Now" by The Sugababes.
A perfect slice of pure pop. I defy you not to have it going round in your head all day once you've heard it. Also worth a mention is "Call The Shots" by Girls Aloud, and "Umbrella" by Rihanna, if only for the fact that it was timed perfectly with last year's dismal summer. 2007 will always been the year it rained alot and "Umbrella" stayed at No.1.
"Worst Pop Song of the Year" must go to... (opens envelope)...
Oh yes, of course, a deserving winner, it's "Gimme More" by Britney Spears. Ok, she's troubled, we get that. But how much longer do we have to endure her breathy vocals over the top of a robotic beat? "It's Britney, bitch!". Oh, purlease! Still, at least she was sober enough to remember her own name. Dishonourable mention goes to whatever that comeback song was by The Spice Girls (I can't remember the name and don't want to look it up and have it showing on my Internet History). Never has a song promised so much and delivered so little. The Spice Girls, at their best, gave us some wonderful pop songs. Why on Earth did anyone think this tuneless nonsense would make a great comeback? And then trying to make us buy it by giving all the proceeds to Children In Need. Apparently they want children to go on starving or being beaten this year.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Christmas/New Year Round-Up
I've just read my last post before Christmas again. Blimey, I was in a bad mood that day. Grumpy old sod.
Just so you know, Christmas was a lovely affair again this (last) year, although we did do rather more travelling that I would have liked. It went something like this:
Sat 22nd: London to Midlands to see The Boyf's family.
Sun 23rd: Midlands to Kent to see my Mum (in thick fog)
Sun 23rd (evening): Kent to London.
Mon 24th: Borough Market to get the fresh veg and final tasty morsels
Tues 25th/Wednesday 26th: At home with Our Best Mates relaxing. Lovely
Thurs 27th: London to Gloucestershire to visit The Drag Queen at her family residence.
Fri 28th: Gloucestershire to Midlands to attend The Boyf's ex's post-Christmas Party
Sat 29th: Midlands to London
Sun 30th: Flaked out all day at home, and then out to the Horsemeat Disco
Mon 31st: Up late and then to the RVT for NYE, which was absolutely brilliant.
Tues 1st: A short sleep and then to Fire and then the RVT again.
Wed 2nd: Dead to the world
Thurs 3rd: Back to work. Urgh!
Oh, and guess what? The Boyf found his car keys this week. They were at home all the time, the spaz!
So, it's the post Christmas blues now. They hit on New Years Day and haven't left me yet. There are alot of things going on in my head that I can't seem to shake off. This year's going to be interesting, I'm sure.
Looking back at last years resolutions I can see that... hang on... yes, I failed dismally. Actually, that's not quite true. The serious resolutions I did do something about. I had a couple of foreign holidays, and I started to learn to swim. My gym regime was sporadic at best however, and I never did start a "proper" blog. Likewise I didn't sleep with my Boss or Bill Goldberg, but both did seem rather unlikely. The one that I really wanted to do was learn a language, and I had the offer from a rather lovely Spaniard I know. But I have the feeling that we'd have ended up doing something altogether different (and horizontal), and when I told The Boyf that I'd been offered language lessons (and by whom) he did one of those "Oh yeah! I'm sure you mouth will be too busy to do any talking" faces so I thought it a bad idea all round. Shame.
So, this year I'm only going to make a few little resolutions, which I will hopefully keep. Let's see...
1. Lose weight. Again. And that means going to the gym, like, properly! I gain and lose enough weight each year to build another complete person, who could follow me around and do my bidding. But they'd be made out of fat and wouldn't look very attractive, and I already have one of those and it's called "The Boyf". (Kidding)
2. Go somewhere on holiday that I've not been to yet. Last year was France and San Francisco. This year we already have Scotland pencilled in, but I need a proper foreign holiday to somewhere different. We're talking about Fort Lauderdale or Chicago. I just don't think I'm pretty enough for Ft Lauderdale somehow.
3. Write more blog entries. I was terribly lazy with it last year and didn't tell you about all sorts of fun stuff. For instance, I got to feed a lion in London Zoo after we were taken "back stage" by a friend of ours. I have to say it was one of the best experiences I've ever had, being so close to a full grown adult male. He was so powerful, and so beautiful. Very humbling. It's made me want to pursue my life-long ambition to swim with sharks, but I doubt that'll happen this year. Getting back to the point, I'm going to put a bit more effort in with this ol' blog. Probably.
4. Do something for charity. It's all very well donating money but this year I want to get off my arse and do something positive. Not sure who for yet (the Terrance Higgins Trust probably), or what I'll do, but it's definitely on the cards.
5. Get another tattoo. I've been quietly saying I'm going to have another tattoo done for about 3 years now, but I think the time is now. Not sure whether to have it done soon, or whether to wait until the summer's over, but I know what I'm going to have done. I just need to find the right person to realise what I have in my head.
Just so you know, Christmas was a lovely affair again this (last) year, although we did do rather more travelling that I would have liked. It went something like this:
Sat 22nd: London to Midlands to see The Boyf's family.
Sun 23rd: Midlands to Kent to see my Mum (in thick fog)
Sun 23rd (evening): Kent to London.
Mon 24th: Borough Market to get the fresh veg and final tasty morsels
Tues 25th/Wednesday 26th: At home with Our Best Mates relaxing. Lovely
Thurs 27th: London to Gloucestershire to visit The Drag Queen at her family residence.
Fri 28th: Gloucestershire to Midlands to attend The Boyf's ex's post-Christmas Party
Sat 29th: Midlands to London
Sun 30th: Flaked out all day at home, and then out to the Horsemeat Disco
Mon 31st: Up late and then to the RVT for NYE, which was absolutely brilliant.
Tues 1st: A short sleep and then to Fire and then the RVT again.
Wed 2nd: Dead to the world
Thurs 3rd: Back to work. Urgh!
Oh, and guess what? The Boyf found his car keys this week. They were at home all the time, the spaz!
So, it's the post Christmas blues now. They hit on New Years Day and haven't left me yet. There are alot of things going on in my head that I can't seem to shake off. This year's going to be interesting, I'm sure.
Looking back at last years resolutions I can see that... hang on... yes, I failed dismally. Actually, that's not quite true. The serious resolutions I did do something about. I had a couple of foreign holidays, and I started to learn to swim. My gym regime was sporadic at best however, and I never did start a "proper" blog. Likewise I didn't sleep with my Boss or Bill Goldberg, but both did seem rather unlikely. The one that I really wanted to do was learn a language, and I had the offer from a rather lovely Spaniard I know. But I have the feeling that we'd have ended up doing something altogether different (and horizontal), and when I told The Boyf that I'd been offered language lessons (and by whom) he did one of those "Oh yeah! I'm sure you mouth will be too busy to do any talking" faces so I thought it a bad idea all round. Shame.
So, this year I'm only going to make a few little resolutions, which I will hopefully keep. Let's see...
1. Lose weight. Again. And that means going to the gym, like, properly! I gain and lose enough weight each year to build another complete person, who could follow me around and do my bidding. But they'd be made out of fat and wouldn't look very attractive, and I already have one of those and it's called "The Boyf". (Kidding)
2. Go somewhere on holiday that I've not been to yet. Last year was France and San Francisco. This year we already have Scotland pencilled in, but I need a proper foreign holiday to somewhere different. We're talking about Fort Lauderdale or Chicago. I just don't think I'm pretty enough for Ft Lauderdale somehow.
3. Write more blog entries. I was terribly lazy with it last year and didn't tell you about all sorts of fun stuff. For instance, I got to feed a lion in London Zoo after we were taken "back stage" by a friend of ours. I have to say it was one of the best experiences I've ever had, being so close to a full grown adult male. He was so powerful, and so beautiful. Very humbling. It's made me want to pursue my life-long ambition to swim with sharks, but I doubt that'll happen this year. Getting back to the point, I'm going to put a bit more effort in with this ol' blog. Probably.
4. Do something for charity. It's all very well donating money but this year I want to get off my arse and do something positive. Not sure who for yet (the Terrance Higgins Trust probably), or what I'll do, but it's definitely on the cards.
5. Get another tattoo. I've been quietly saying I'm going to have another tattoo done for about 3 years now, but I think the time is now. Not sure whether to have it done soon, or whether to wait until the summer's over, but I know what I'm going to have done. I just need to find the right person to realise what I have in my head.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
OMO's Review Of 2007: Pt.1
I have about 5 posts on the go at the moment, none of which I seem able to finish, so I thought I'd knock out something in parts so you can see I'm actually writing something, and not just being damn lazy.
And on with my first award - it's the "Worst Movie of the Year" and it goes to...
Spiderman 3.
In a year of poor movies this still wins hands down. No movie last year made me cringe quite so much as this one. It manages to absolutely ruin a perfectly good franchise with plot twists that negate huge parts of the first two films, it's too long and has too much going on, there are too many villains without the time to explore their motivations, and above all the CGI is absolutely woeful. I could have done better with some crayons. Blindfolded. On LSD. I just wish I'd walked out instead of wasting my time with it.
Now, let's move on to "Best Movie of the Year", which goes to...
er, none of them. I didn't see one film which I would highly recommend, which is probably because The Boyf and I only go to the cinema to watch popcorn fodder, rather than intelligent films (which we'd rather watch at home). If you want a good film rent "Perfume" on DVD, that's what I say.
In the next thrilling instalment we find out what my favourite music was in 2007. Coming soon...
And on with my first award - it's the "Worst Movie of the Year" and it goes to...
Spiderman 3.
In a year of poor movies this still wins hands down. No movie last year made me cringe quite so much as this one. It manages to absolutely ruin a perfectly good franchise with plot twists that negate huge parts of the first two films, it's too long and has too much going on, there are too many villains without the time to explore their motivations, and above all the CGI is absolutely woeful. I could have done better with some crayons. Blindfolded. On LSD. I just wish I'd walked out instead of wasting my time with it.
Now, let's move on to "Best Movie of the Year", which goes to...
er, none of them. I didn't see one film which I would highly recommend, which is probably because The Boyf and I only go to the cinema to watch popcorn fodder, rather than intelligent films (which we'd rather watch at home). If you want a good film rent "Perfume" on DVD, that's what I say.
In the next thrilling instalment we find out what my favourite music was in 2007. Coming soon...
Friday, December 21, 2007
Merry Christmas?
I'm in such a foul mood right now. The run up to Christmas has been one stressful experience after another, most of which seems to be down to The Boyf.
Yet again his car broke down, and we have a lot of travelling to do this weekend so can't do without it. He said he couldn't believe his luck and moped around. I countered that it's been going wrong for weeks - no, months - and that perhaps he should have thought about getting it fixed earlier. So he got The Drag Queen to flirt with a mechanic at the local garage and hey presto! has managed to get it booked in today as a favour.
Yesterday afternoon he went Christmas shopping. And lost his wallet. He loses something at least once a month. Fortunately - incredibly - it was handed in in a bar he'd been in for a de-stressing drink. By the time he came home he was still stressed about spending an hour looking everywhere for said wallet before finally being reunited with it. "Oh well, at least you have it back and nothing is missing" said I, thinking it was a good thing. "Yeah, but I didn't need that stress right now! And I know it was definitely in my pocket!", he bit my head off with. "So, someone lifted it from your pocket and then handed it in, without stealing anything?", I asked. That got me a dirty look and he sloped off to the bedroom.
This morning the car was due to be at the garage for 8:30. I was going to have to bump start it for him so waited for him to finally be ready to leave (8:20). Then he couldn't find his car keys. They were nowhere to be found, so he's obviously dropped them shopping somewhere. After 10 minutes of shouting and swearing at himself he found the spare. I loaned him my house keys with a "Please don't lose those though otherwise we'll be locked out". "I don't lose things on f**king purpose you know!" he shouted. And then I had the good fortune of pushing his car to get it to start and then being late for work, with him refusing to speak.
We still haven't bought Our Best Mates a present so I phoned The Boyf with a solution. One of his presents seemed to have gone missing in the post so I'd ordered another, then the first one turned up. I'm still waiting for the second although it doesn't look like it's going to be with us for Christmas. So I suggested to The Boyf that I give OBM's the one that has turned up and then he could have the second when it arrives. But oh no! He immediately went into a mood, "But that's the one present that I've been looking forward to, and now I'll have to watch someone else open it and I won't have one!". "How old are you?", I asked, "Because you're acting like a spoilt 8 year old". "Oh, give it to them then. It's spoilt now anyway", he said. I put the phone down on him. That was 5 minutes ago, hence my mood.
Tomorrow we have a long drive up to the Midlands to see his parents, who he always moans about having to see, so that's going to be a bundle of laughs. Last week I was really looking forward to Christmas, but right now I wish it was already over. I've gone from having a big pile of presents I'm really pleased with to just wanting it all to go away. Oh, I'll be ok by Tuesday, but next year there are going to be some changes in my relationship, you mark my words...
Anyway, I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas. Thank you for being such a wonderful audience (when I can be bothered to write anything).
Yet again his car broke down, and we have a lot of travelling to do this weekend so can't do without it. He said he couldn't believe his luck and moped around. I countered that it's been going wrong for weeks - no, months - and that perhaps he should have thought about getting it fixed earlier. So he got The Drag Queen to flirt with a mechanic at the local garage and hey presto! has managed to get it booked in today as a favour.
Yesterday afternoon he went Christmas shopping. And lost his wallet. He loses something at least once a month. Fortunately - incredibly - it was handed in in a bar he'd been in for a de-stressing drink. By the time he came home he was still stressed about spending an hour looking everywhere for said wallet before finally being reunited with it. "Oh well, at least you have it back and nothing is missing" said I, thinking it was a good thing. "Yeah, but I didn't need that stress right now! And I know it was definitely in my pocket!", he bit my head off with. "So, someone lifted it from your pocket and then handed it in, without stealing anything?", I asked. That got me a dirty look and he sloped off to the bedroom.
This morning the car was due to be at the garage for 8:30. I was going to have to bump start it for him so waited for him to finally be ready to leave (8:20). Then he couldn't find his car keys. They were nowhere to be found, so he's obviously dropped them shopping somewhere. After 10 minutes of shouting and swearing at himself he found the spare. I loaned him my house keys with a "Please don't lose those though otherwise we'll be locked out". "I don't lose things on f**king purpose you know!" he shouted. And then I had the good fortune of pushing his car to get it to start and then being late for work, with him refusing to speak.
We still haven't bought Our Best Mates a present so I phoned The Boyf with a solution. One of his presents seemed to have gone missing in the post so I'd ordered another, then the first one turned up. I'm still waiting for the second although it doesn't look like it's going to be with us for Christmas. So I suggested to The Boyf that I give OBM's the one that has turned up and then he could have the second when it arrives. But oh no! He immediately went into a mood, "But that's the one present that I've been looking forward to, and now I'll have to watch someone else open it and I won't have one!". "How old are you?", I asked, "Because you're acting like a spoilt 8 year old". "Oh, give it to them then. It's spoilt now anyway", he said. I put the phone down on him. That was 5 minutes ago, hence my mood.
Tomorrow we have a long drive up to the Midlands to see his parents, who he always moans about having to see, so that's going to be a bundle of laughs. Last week I was really looking forward to Christmas, but right now I wish it was already over. I've gone from having a big pile of presents I'm really pleased with to just wanting it all to go away. Oh, I'll be ok by Tuesday, but next year there are going to be some changes in my relationship, you mark my words...
Anyway, I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas. Thank you for being such a wonderful audience (when I can be bothered to write anything).
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
OMO At The Movies: "The Golden Compass"
We don't seem to have been to the pictures for ages. Not since OBM#2 and I sloped off to see Transformers for the second time at the IMAX. It wasn't as good the second time round I have to say. Oh well, I got to spend some time with my best friend on our own, which is always nice.
Anyway, The Golden Compass. Here's a quick synopsis (lots of spoilers included)...
We are introduced to Lyra, our heroine, by way of seeing her running through fields and climbing across rooves with the local ruffians, known as "Gyptians", which we assume is a shortening of "Egyptian" even though they look like the chimney-sweep kids from Mary Poppins. We are obviously being told, in a very ham-fisted way, that Lyra must be a free spirit and head-strong. We immediately don't like her, not because she's naughty, but simply because she's deeply annoying. Also, we don't like her Daemon, which is explained as being her soul in the body of an animal which follows her around. I immediately start to wonder what clubbing and sex would be like with a load of animals getting in the way. In fact, isn't everything going to be really difficult if you have an animal with you? Imagine Sainsburys on a Saturday! And supposing you end up with an elephant. You're not going to be able to go anywhere!
Anyway, then Daniel Craig appears with a beard and all thoughts of anything else disappear. Sigh. Christ that man's sexy, for some unfathomable reason.
Then there's a 10 minute section in which an awful lot of words are said which don't really mean anything in an attempt to shoehorn a large amount of plot into a short space of time, leaving us wondering what's actually going on. Some of these words may or may not have been borrowed from Harry Potter.
Then Lyra's best friend suddenly states that children are disappearing, and she promises to save him if he's taken. We wonder if his disappearance could have been set up in a way which didn't feel like you were having someone shout it in your face.
Nicole Kidman arrives, in a shot from behind as she sashays into a large dining room. She's lacking the hips to be wiggling like that, frankly. She's introduced to us as another free-spirited woman, and someone to be weary of. She does this by demonstrating that everyone is afraid of her, for reasons we don't understand. She is thus very enigmatic and we go "Ooooooo, enigmatic". She invites Lyra to come to the "north" with her - we presume she doesn't mean Sheffield - and although Lyra only met her 2 minutes ago she accepts, and therefore deserves any trouble she gets into.
Lyra is given the last remaining Golden Compass to look after. Christ knows why, as clearly she's not to be trusted. The Golden Compass is a device who's purpose was explained to us at the start of the film at breakneck speed and without detail, and whilst we were still trying to get comfortable and juggle our icecream, popcorn and jumbo Pepsi. We therefore have no idea what it does.
Lyra's best friend disappears. Shock! She doesn't seem to care and heads off with Nicole regardless.
By this time Daniel Craig has gone "north" and has been captured, and is not to be seen again until the final 5 minutes of the film. Thus for most of the duration of the movie we're left wondering how his capture has moved the plot on, even though it turns out it hasn't.
There is a sequence which goes a bit "My Fair Lady" where we're treated to shots of London with the buildings stretched and plumped via the wonders of CGI, and where Nicole tries to turn Lyra into a mini version of herself with the cunning use of a new dress and a brush through her hair. Something fishy is going on and we're not entirely sure it's going to be explained very well at any point during this movie.
Lyra runs away and is aided by the Gyptians, who now look like pirates and live on a boat, causing us further confusion. Lyra reveals to the Gyptians (rather too quickly, like everything else in this film) that she's in possession of the Golden Compass. The filmmakers, apparently aware that we weren't paying enough attention in the title sequence, decide to have a Gyptian explain the device again, withouth actually explaining it properly. Again. We are led to believe that the Compass is incredibly difficult to read and noone can do it anymore. Imagine our surprise when Lyra manages it first time!
They travel "north" to look for the captive children, which turns out to be somewhere inside the Artic Circle. Not sure how they know the children are up "north". Perhaps I blinked and missed that part, in the same way that I missed the relevance of a random witch turning up on the boat and then leaving again. Once north they have the fortune of running into both Sam Elliott (not looking as sexy as he used to) and a talking Polar Bear both of whom have nothing better to do than help them - I love it when that happens. Lyra helps the Bear to gain his rightful crown as the Polar Bear King, which involves a fight sequence, and this has nothing to do with the rest of the film. Lyra and the Bear head to where the children are being held but are separated using the age-old "bridge which is only strong enough for one person and thus collapses behind our hero(ine)" routine. Lyra continues on her own. I'm sure she would have frostbite by now and lost her fingers and toes, but never mind. Perhaps next time they could CGI her some stumps. On a vaguely related note; did you know that for years after seeing Forrest Gump I believed that Gary Sinise was actually an amputee?
Anyway, Lyra makes it to the captive children and figures out what's going on. We don't. We're still a bit confused as to why they're separating children from their Daemons. What's the point? Soulless children? Surely there are enough of those in Bermondsey as it is. And why are they only doing one child at a time rather than trying to do it on a much larger scale. However, we understand that it's all about puberty because they tell us in a particularly clunky way.
There's a big reveal in which Nicole turns out to be Lyra's mother - like we didn't see that one coming - and Daniel Craig is her Dad. I wonder aloud what it would be like to call Daniel "Daddy". Lyra escapes and frees the children and then there's a big-ish "Lord Of The Rings" style battle sequence where a load of witches turn up to help for no real reason. Presumably they have some time off between other fantasy movies. The children flee across the ice to what we presume is safety although we're not told. They could quite easily have succumbed to the cold or been picked off by various predators, fallen off cliffs etc, but we're not privvy to that information. Lyra and her Bear fly off with Sam Elliott and one of the witches in his airship thing, even though she barely knows them. Presumably they're heading off for another adventure at breakneck speed in which everyone knows what's going on in the blink of an eye, and during which there will be an awful lot of characters who don't really do anything to further the plot.
Oh, and I've entirely missed mentioning the Magisterium. I think they're only there so that we equate them with organised religion and thus go "Oooo, them bad!". And there's mention of "Gobblers" which we found very amusing.
Amazingly I did actually quite enjoy it, but it is hugely derivitive. It's like a little bit of Harry Potter, a smidgeon on Narnia, and a dollop of Lord Of The Ring. And a touch of Star Wars for good measure ("Lyra - I am your Mother"). There just doesn't seem to be any fresh ideas. And the pace is just ridiculous. It cracks along at such a speed we never feel like we know what's going on or why, and the characters don't have a chance to flesh our who they are. And if Lyra died at any stage I honestly wouldn't mind one bit. But until the next Narnia film comes out it's enough to keep us entertained for a couple of hours, even if you'd never want to see it again.
Anyway, The Golden Compass. Here's a quick synopsis (lots of spoilers included)...
We are introduced to Lyra, our heroine, by way of seeing her running through fields and climbing across rooves with the local ruffians, known as "Gyptians", which we assume is a shortening of "Egyptian" even though they look like the chimney-sweep kids from Mary Poppins. We are obviously being told, in a very ham-fisted way, that Lyra must be a free spirit and head-strong. We immediately don't like her, not because she's naughty, but simply because she's deeply annoying. Also, we don't like her Daemon, which is explained as being her soul in the body of an animal which follows her around. I immediately start to wonder what clubbing and sex would be like with a load of animals getting in the way. In fact, isn't everything going to be really difficult if you have an animal with you? Imagine Sainsburys on a Saturday! And supposing you end up with an elephant. You're not going to be able to go anywhere!
Anyway, then Daniel Craig appears with a beard and all thoughts of anything else disappear. Sigh. Christ that man's sexy, for some unfathomable reason.
Then there's a 10 minute section in which an awful lot of words are said which don't really mean anything in an attempt to shoehorn a large amount of plot into a short space of time, leaving us wondering what's actually going on. Some of these words may or may not have been borrowed from Harry Potter.
Then Lyra's best friend suddenly states that children are disappearing, and she promises to save him if he's taken. We wonder if his disappearance could have been set up in a way which didn't feel like you were having someone shout it in your face.
Nicole Kidman arrives, in a shot from behind as she sashays into a large dining room. She's lacking the hips to be wiggling like that, frankly. She's introduced to us as another free-spirited woman, and someone to be weary of. She does this by demonstrating that everyone is afraid of her, for reasons we don't understand. She is thus very enigmatic and we go "Ooooooo, enigmatic". She invites Lyra to come to the "north" with her - we presume she doesn't mean Sheffield - and although Lyra only met her 2 minutes ago she accepts, and therefore deserves any trouble she gets into.
Lyra is given the last remaining Golden Compass to look after. Christ knows why, as clearly she's not to be trusted. The Golden Compass is a device who's purpose was explained to us at the start of the film at breakneck speed and without detail, and whilst we were still trying to get comfortable and juggle our icecream, popcorn and jumbo Pepsi. We therefore have no idea what it does.
Lyra's best friend disappears. Shock! She doesn't seem to care and heads off with Nicole regardless.
By this time Daniel Craig has gone "north" and has been captured, and is not to be seen again until the final 5 minutes of the film. Thus for most of the duration of the movie we're left wondering how his capture has moved the plot on, even though it turns out it hasn't.
There is a sequence which goes a bit "My Fair Lady" where we're treated to shots of London with the buildings stretched and plumped via the wonders of CGI, and where Nicole tries to turn Lyra into a mini version of herself with the cunning use of a new dress and a brush through her hair. Something fishy is going on and we're not entirely sure it's going to be explained very well at any point during this movie.
Lyra runs away and is aided by the Gyptians, who now look like pirates and live on a boat, causing us further confusion. Lyra reveals to the Gyptians (rather too quickly, like everything else in this film) that she's in possession of the Golden Compass. The filmmakers, apparently aware that we weren't paying enough attention in the title sequence, decide to have a Gyptian explain the device again, withouth actually explaining it properly. Again. We are led to believe that the Compass is incredibly difficult to read and noone can do it anymore. Imagine our surprise when Lyra manages it first time!
They travel "north" to look for the captive children, which turns out to be somewhere inside the Artic Circle. Not sure how they know the children are up "north". Perhaps I blinked and missed that part, in the same way that I missed the relevance of a random witch turning up on the boat and then leaving again. Once north they have the fortune of running into both Sam Elliott (not looking as sexy as he used to) and a talking Polar Bear both of whom have nothing better to do than help them - I love it when that happens. Lyra helps the Bear to gain his rightful crown as the Polar Bear King, which involves a fight sequence, and this has nothing to do with the rest of the film. Lyra and the Bear head to where the children are being held but are separated using the age-old "bridge which is only strong enough for one person and thus collapses behind our hero(ine)" routine. Lyra continues on her own. I'm sure she would have frostbite by now and lost her fingers and toes, but never mind. Perhaps next time they could CGI her some stumps. On a vaguely related note; did you know that for years after seeing Forrest Gump I believed that Gary Sinise was actually an amputee?
Anyway, Lyra makes it to the captive children and figures out what's going on. We don't. We're still a bit confused as to why they're separating children from their Daemons. What's the point? Soulless children? Surely there are enough of those in Bermondsey as it is. And why are they only doing one child at a time rather than trying to do it on a much larger scale. However, we understand that it's all about puberty because they tell us in a particularly clunky way.
There's a big reveal in which Nicole turns out to be Lyra's mother - like we didn't see that one coming - and Daniel Craig is her Dad. I wonder aloud what it would be like to call Daniel "Daddy". Lyra escapes and frees the children and then there's a big-ish "Lord Of The Rings" style battle sequence where a load of witches turn up to help for no real reason. Presumably they have some time off between other fantasy movies. The children flee across the ice to what we presume is safety although we're not told. They could quite easily have succumbed to the cold or been picked off by various predators, fallen off cliffs etc, but we're not privvy to that information. Lyra and her Bear fly off with Sam Elliott and one of the witches in his airship thing, even though she barely knows them. Presumably they're heading off for another adventure at breakneck speed in which everyone knows what's going on in the blink of an eye, and during which there will be an awful lot of characters who don't really do anything to further the plot.
Oh, and I've entirely missed mentioning the Magisterium. I think they're only there so that we equate them with organised religion and thus go "Oooo, them bad!". And there's mention of "Gobblers" which we found very amusing.
Amazingly I did actually quite enjoy it, but it is hugely derivitive. It's like a little bit of Harry Potter, a smidgeon on Narnia, and a dollop of Lord Of The Ring. And a touch of Star Wars for good measure ("Lyra - I am your Mother"). There just doesn't seem to be any fresh ideas. And the pace is just ridiculous. It cracks along at such a speed we never feel like we know what's going on or why, and the characters don't have a chance to flesh our who they are. And if Lyra died at any stage I honestly wouldn't mind one bit. But until the next Narnia film comes out it's enough to keep us entertained for a couple of hours, even if you'd never want to see it again.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Where's The Bear?
In all the hoo-ha surrounding Gillian Gibbons naming the class Teddy "Muhammad" recently, noone seems to have asked how the bear is handling the sudden media intrusion, or indeed what has happened to it. Has anyone actually seen the bear in all of this? Not once was his plight televised by the media here in the UK, who were only interested in getting that woman back where she belongs (which, frankly, would appear to be Primark).
Is Muhammad still in the classroom, being looked after by the kids and the new teacher? Has he changed his name to avoid further trouble and to distance himself from further media speculation? Has he managed to flee from the Sudan? Or is he just laying discarded somewhere, lost and forlorn? I just pray that it hasn't been stoned to death or something.
Is Muhammad still in the classroom, being looked after by the kids and the new teacher? Has he changed his name to avoid further trouble and to distance himself from further media speculation? Has he managed to flee from the Sudan? Or is he just laying discarded somewhere, lost and forlorn? I just pray that it hasn't been stoned to death or something.
As so often happens in these situations it's the little people that get forgotten. Or, in this case, the little bears. We should not give up the fight for this bear, just because that teacher is back in the UK.
Also, someone really needs to tell Gillian Gibbons to do something with her hair before she instigates another international incident.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
All's Well That Ends
This weekend wasn't one of our best, all in all, although it was salvaged at the last moment, albeit not by a hairy muscular man on a horse, which is how I like all my weekends to end.
Er.
The Boyf hasn't been well. There seems to be a lot of chest infections going round and as usual I haven't caught it myself although I seem to be surrounded by sick people. My Boss, then two of my team, have been out of work and then finally The Boyf succumbed. He calls me "Typhoid Nelly" on account of my ability to pass germs from one person to another without being ill myself. Most usually chlamydia. Kidding.
I always berate women when they say that men are crap at being ill, but I have to say that The Boyf was a terrible patient. For two whole days communication almost completely broke down as all I could get were half-opened eyes and groans. It seemed a slow, agonising death of Oscar winning proportions right up until Sunday morning when he suddenly pronounced himself well again and then complained that the flat could do with a tidy round. Like I hadn't been busy enough mopping his brow.
Friday night had seen a World AIDS Day charity event at Tonka, with the return of the porn stars, and we'd been looking forward to it. The Boyf mumbled into my ear that I could go on my own if I fancied it, and then added that he'd be fine left all on his own as he had been all day whilst I was at work. I didn't go out. Instead I sat and watched The Boyf sleep for the entire evening until I carried him to the bed which didn't even rouse him from his slumber.
Saturday night was Megawoof!, and OBM#2 was pestering me to leave The Boyf at home and come out on my own, where we could both get up to no good (as OBM#1 was busy elsewhere). I mentioned it to The Boyf and again he mumbled that he didn't mind if I left him all alone. He'd be fine. As long as he didn't need anything urgently because he didn't have the strength to move. "No, go out and leave me and try not to worry about me whilst you're having fun", he added. Urgh! I didn't go out. He spent the evening asleep again.
Come Sunday morning I needed to get out of the flat. And then The Boyf bounced into the room pronouncing himself well again. A Christmas miracle no less! I'd made arrangements to visit my Mum which had been put on hold, but with The Boyf better he said he could do with getting out and would enjoy the trip out of London. So we set off. And then the car broke down. We'd managed about 6 miles. I tinkered about under the bonnet but it was only going to be a temporary measure - we certainly weren't going to get any further on our trip. So we headed home, having to make a couple of stops on the way to sort the car out.
Deciding to make the best of a bad situation, one of the stops put us in range of a seller of Christmas Trees, so we promptly bought one and stuffed it in the back of the car to give us something to do once we finally reached home. So now Christmas has officially arrived in our flat, courtesy of a beautiful 7 foot Nordic Pine which we decorated whilst drinking sherry and listening to Doris Day. It's a Christmas tradition now in our home.
And then I remembered that I had been given two tickets to see Mika in concert for my birthday by The God, no less. From seeing him at the gym that time and then, er, having a little fun in The Hoist, The God has turned into one of our better friends. With the Boyf newly recovered and the "end" part of "weekend" rapidly approaching we headed out to the gig, which was amazing. Mika's a truly talented lad, and puts on a brilliant show. We didn't even care that we only knew three songs (discounting the inspired cover of The Eurythmics' "Missionary Man"). To be honest Mika's songs are highly derivative, sounding largely like Elton John/Freddie Mercury/Scissor Sisters (who are incredibly derivative themselves), but this just means that you have a faint sense of deja vu with each song, like you've heard it somewhere before. Hence it seems easy to pick up the melodies and then drown out everyone around you with a faltering falsetto. Or maybe that's just me. And the encore was such a blast. Dancing bunnies, giant balloons, confetti cannons, the works! We both left with huge smiles on our faces and our weekend finished on a high.
Er.
The Boyf hasn't been well. There seems to be a lot of chest infections going round and as usual I haven't caught it myself although I seem to be surrounded by sick people. My Boss, then two of my team, have been out of work and then finally The Boyf succumbed. He calls me "Typhoid Nelly" on account of my ability to pass germs from one person to another without being ill myself. Most usually chlamydia. Kidding.
I always berate women when they say that men are crap at being ill, but I have to say that The Boyf was a terrible patient. For two whole days communication almost completely broke down as all I could get were half-opened eyes and groans. It seemed a slow, agonising death of Oscar winning proportions right up until Sunday morning when he suddenly pronounced himself well again and then complained that the flat could do with a tidy round. Like I hadn't been busy enough mopping his brow.
Friday night had seen a World AIDS Day charity event at Tonka, with the return of the porn stars, and we'd been looking forward to it. The Boyf mumbled into my ear that I could go on my own if I fancied it, and then added that he'd be fine left all on his own as he had been all day whilst I was at work. I didn't go out. Instead I sat and watched The Boyf sleep for the entire evening until I carried him to the bed which didn't even rouse him from his slumber.
Saturday night was Megawoof!, and OBM#2 was pestering me to leave The Boyf at home and come out on my own, where we could both get up to no good (as OBM#1 was busy elsewhere). I mentioned it to The Boyf and again he mumbled that he didn't mind if I left him all alone. He'd be fine. As long as he didn't need anything urgently because he didn't have the strength to move. "No, go out and leave me and try not to worry about me whilst you're having fun", he added. Urgh! I didn't go out. He spent the evening asleep again.
Come Sunday morning I needed to get out of the flat. And then The Boyf bounced into the room pronouncing himself well again. A Christmas miracle no less! I'd made arrangements to visit my Mum which had been put on hold, but with The Boyf better he said he could do with getting out and would enjoy the trip out of London. So we set off. And then the car broke down. We'd managed about 6 miles. I tinkered about under the bonnet but it was only going to be a temporary measure - we certainly weren't going to get any further on our trip. So we headed home, having to make a couple of stops on the way to sort the car out.
Deciding to make the best of a bad situation, one of the stops put us in range of a seller of Christmas Trees, so we promptly bought one and stuffed it in the back of the car to give us something to do once we finally reached home. So now Christmas has officially arrived in our flat, courtesy of a beautiful 7 foot Nordic Pine which we decorated whilst drinking sherry and listening to Doris Day. It's a Christmas tradition now in our home.
And then I remembered that I had been given two tickets to see Mika in concert for my birthday by The God, no less. From seeing him at the gym that time and then, er, having a little fun in The Hoist, The God has turned into one of our better friends. With the Boyf newly recovered and the "end" part of "weekend" rapidly approaching we headed out to the gig, which was amazing. Mika's a truly talented lad, and puts on a brilliant show. We didn't even care that we only knew three songs (discounting the inspired cover of The Eurythmics' "Missionary Man"). To be honest Mika's songs are highly derivative, sounding largely like Elton John/Freddie Mercury/Scissor Sisters (who are incredibly derivative themselves), but this just means that you have a faint sense of deja vu with each song, like you've heard it somewhere before. Hence it seems easy to pick up the melodies and then drown out everyone around you with a faltering falsetto. Or maybe that's just me. And the encore was such a blast. Dancing bunnies, giant balloons, confetti cannons, the works! We both left with huge smiles on our faces and our weekend finished on a high.
Friday, November 16, 2007
I Love November
I'm very aware that my posting has been, at best, sporadic of late. My profuse apologies Dear Reader. I've had stuff on my mind, mainly to do with my job, but also to do with my upcoming birthday. Yes, this Sunday (18th) I will be entering my early late-30's.
Just recently The Boyf and I have been chilling out alot. We've been spending a bit extra time in the gym and have been going for long autumnal walks, this being my favourite time of the year. The temperature suits me and I love the colours. And when we have gone out recently the gay scene seems very muted. Like everyone's waiting for something good to happen. I have to say that Tonka at The Eagle 349 on Fridays is a good night out though. I thoroughly recommend it.
Anyway, I have a big weekend planned for my birthday although it doesn't involve a great deal of clubbing. The Boyf and The Drag Queen are throwing me a little party with a winter Bar-B-Q and a very small collection of close friends. I intend to get very drunk and tell certain people I love them a little too often for comfort. And I have a feeling we'll end up at the RVT on Sunday where I'll get very drunk again and accept birthday kisses from all and sundry.
So, I hope you all have a lovely weekend and I'll report on my birthday shenanigans when I've stopped shaking enough to type.
Monday, November 12, 2007
The Monday Morning Blogbite - T-Rex
Unusually for me I got alot of sleep this weekend. Well, apart from Friday, where we had a very nice surprise visit by The God who wanted to tell us all about his new fella and various other things, and then suddenly said "So, do you mind if I fuck you both?". I laughed, thinking it a joke (after all, he had just said that he was in love with the new beau), but The Boyf, who is far more on the ball than me, quickly accepted the invitation and dragged us in the direction of the bedroom. Well, it's not often you get an offer like that...
Anyway, as I was saying, I got alot of sleep over the weekend so today I'm feeling unusually bright and alert for a Monday. Hence, when the office conversation turned from "The Kylie Show" to "Tyrannosaurus Rex" (don't ask) I decided to regale my work colleagues with some facts about it - that I made up off the hoof - and I thought I'd share them with you. Here they are...
1. The reason for the dinosaurs extinction was completely due to the fact that T-Rex couldn't type. His short arms and long claws made touch-typing a no-no, and he didn't have opposable thumbs meaning "Control, Alt, Delete" was something he could only dream about. When the asteroid was approaching Earth he took so long to type the email about it, it was already too late. Conversely, the mammals, due to their touch-typing skills, received the email on time and took cover. The rest, as they say, is natural history.
2. Although T-Rex was wiped out my a large asteroid, his fate had already been sealed when ham and corned beef were repackaged into tins with those little keys for opening. Also, he wasn't very good at opening jars and thus found meat paste a constant frustration.
3. The collective noun for a group of T-Rex's is a "raaaaarrrrr".
4. T-Rex's favourite TV programme was Ally McBeal, and they were known to congregate together to watch it in large raaaaarrrrrs. (Just demonstrating the collective noun for you).
5. Although blessed with big teeth, T-Rex's bark really was worse than his bite. His roar could be heard 300 miles away and could shatter all glass within 100 yards (making him somewhat unpopular among the dinner party set). However, the amount of force he could exert with his jaws was only equal to that of a small guinea pig, meaning that he was forced to suck most prey to death (like certain gentlemen I've met).
6. T-Rex's gym membership ran out sometime in the late Jurassic Period, and he didn't bother renewing it. This proved fortunate as he was extinct only 80 million years later.
7. Contrary to popular opinion (and most of the facts I've already presented), T-Rex's shortest limbs were actually his legs. The mistake came about when an office junior accidentally stuck the skull on the wrong end of the first skeleton discovered. In actual fact T-Rex had tiny legs and a short stubby tail, plus enormous arms and a long tapering neck which struggled to hold it's large head up. Unicycles were a no-go area.
8. T-Rex was completely colour-blind - or dichromatic, if you want to be fancy about it. This explains that nasty incident involving the green plaid trousers and the orange blouse during the mid-Cretaceous Period.
9. The height restriction at Blackpool Pleasure Beach meant that T-Rex never enjoyed the Pepsi Max Big One. Or Professor Burps Bubble Works at Chessington World Of Adventure.
10. T-Rex now dons a ginger wig and can be seen trying to keep up with the other members of Girls Aloud.
Anyway, as I was saying, I got alot of sleep over the weekend so today I'm feeling unusually bright and alert for a Monday. Hence, when the office conversation turned from "The Kylie Show" to "Tyrannosaurus Rex" (don't ask) I decided to regale my work colleagues with some facts about it - that I made up off the hoof - and I thought I'd share them with you. Here they are...
1. The reason for the dinosaurs extinction was completely due to the fact that T-Rex couldn't type. His short arms and long claws made touch-typing a no-no, and he didn't have opposable thumbs meaning "Control, Alt, Delete" was something he could only dream about. When the asteroid was approaching Earth he took so long to type the email about it, it was already too late. Conversely, the mammals, due to their touch-typing skills, received the email on time and took cover. The rest, as they say, is natural history.
2. Although T-Rex was wiped out my a large asteroid, his fate had already been sealed when ham and corned beef were repackaged into tins with those little keys for opening. Also, he wasn't very good at opening jars and thus found meat paste a constant frustration.
3. The collective noun for a group of T-Rex's is a "raaaaarrrrr".
4. T-Rex's favourite TV programme was Ally McBeal, and they were known to congregate together to watch it in large raaaaarrrrrs. (Just demonstrating the collective noun for you).
5. Although blessed with big teeth, T-Rex's bark really was worse than his bite. His roar could be heard 300 miles away and could shatter all glass within 100 yards (making him somewhat unpopular among the dinner party set). However, the amount of force he could exert with his jaws was only equal to that of a small guinea pig, meaning that he was forced to suck most prey to death (like certain gentlemen I've met).
6. T-Rex's gym membership ran out sometime in the late Jurassic Period, and he didn't bother renewing it. This proved fortunate as he was extinct only 80 million years later.
7. Contrary to popular opinion (and most of the facts I've already presented), T-Rex's shortest limbs were actually his legs. The mistake came about when an office junior accidentally stuck the skull on the wrong end of the first skeleton discovered. In actual fact T-Rex had tiny legs and a short stubby tail, plus enormous arms and a long tapering neck which struggled to hold it's large head up. Unicycles were a no-go area.
8. T-Rex was completely colour-blind - or dichromatic, if you want to be fancy about it. This explains that nasty incident involving the green plaid trousers and the orange blouse during the mid-Cretaceous Period.
9. The height restriction at Blackpool Pleasure Beach meant that T-Rex never enjoyed the Pepsi Max Big One. Or Professor Burps Bubble Works at Chessington World Of Adventure.
10. T-Rex now dons a ginger wig and can be seen trying to keep up with the other members of Girls Aloud.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Nothing For A Pair
Camelot has recently had to withdraw a Lottery Scratchcard game from sale over confusion from people as to whether they had won or not. The "Cool Cash" game relied on a player having to scratch off a panel to reveal a lower temperature than was shown on the front of the card, and because of its name and the time of year the given temperature was often a minus figure. Camelot apparently received dozens of complaints from people who couldn't understand how -5 is not a lower temperature than -6, for example.
But it's this quote, from a 23-year old named Tina Farrell in the Manchester Evening News which really gets me.
"On one of my cards it said I had to find temperatures lower than -8. The numbers I uncovered were -6 and -7 so I thought I had won, and so did the woman in the shop. But when she scanned the card the machine said I hadn't.
I phoned Camelot and they fobbed me off with some story that -6 is higher, not lower, than -8 but I'm not having it."
Hehehehe, marvellous!
But it's this quote, from a 23-year old named Tina Farrell in the Manchester Evening News which really gets me.
"On one of my cards it said I had to find temperatures lower than -8. The numbers I uncovered were -6 and -7 so I thought I had won, and so did the woman in the shop. But when she scanned the card the machine said I hadn't.
I phoned Camelot and they fobbed me off with some story that -6 is higher, not lower, than -8 but I'm not having it."
Hehehehe, marvellous!
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Uh Oh! Not Good News
No, I know - not pretty, is he. But that's not why I'm here.
This fella, Dear Readers, is the Reverend Joel Edwards, General Director of the Evangelical Alliance. He once wrote a paper on "Faith, Hope and Homosexuality" where he explored the relationship between Christianity and Homosexuality. It's conclusion was particularly good reading. For example:
"We call upon evangelical congregations to welcome and accept sexually active homosexual people, but to do so in the expectation that they will come in due course to see the need to change their lifestyle in accordance with biblical revelation and orthodox church teaching. We urge gentleness and patience in this process, and ongoing care even after a homosexual person renounces same-sex sexual relations."
and...
"We commend the work of those organisations which seek to help homosexual Christians live a celibate life, and also commend those groups which responsibly assist homosexuals who wish to reorient to a heterosexual lifestyle."
Yeah, he's obviously a bit nuts. Naturally he's very against homosexual marriages.
Now, why am I introducing him to you, you may well be asking. Well, it's because he's just been appointed by our government as a commissioner to the new Equality and Human Rights Commission (EHRC), which is an amalgamation of three previous UK equality commissions, being the Commission for Racial Equality, the Equal Opportunities Commission and the Disability Rights Commission.
Yes, he's been appointed to look into equality and human rights!
Very recently he campaigned against a proposal for a crime of incitement to violence on the grounds of sexual orientation, and has said his views on homosexuality will inform his new roll in the EHRC.
This is not good news.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
In Which Your OMO Aims For "Funny" But Hits "Offensive"
So, I hope you all had a good All Hallow's Eve, and a Happy Samhain to all Pagans.
The Boyf and I, plus The Drag Queen and Our Best Mates headed to the RVT for a Hallowe'en Brou-Ha-Ha comedy evening, and many people had dressed up for the ocassion. Unfortunately my plans of going as "Kate McCann: Child Minder" had been twarted by not being able to find a Kate mask anywhere. Apparently I'm a wee bit premature and such masks aren't available. Just wait til next year, they'll be everywhere you wait and see.
In the end the lack of a Kate mask blew everything out of the water, and even a last ditch attempt to go as Heather McCartney (with one of us as her leg, lost and searching for it's owner) fell flat, so we stuck with our old favourites - a group of ghostly Chinese winkle pickers, forever stuck in mud and trying to reach land. Tasteful I'm sure you'll agree.
Oh, just for the record, the Brou-Ha-Ha joke competition question was:
Q: What's the difference between Heather McCartney and a broom?
There was a large number of very funny answers, but the eventual winner was:
A: A broom didn't have a spaz-attack on GMTV this morning.
The Boyf and I, plus The Drag Queen and Our Best Mates headed to the RVT for a Hallowe'en Brou-Ha-Ha comedy evening, and many people had dressed up for the ocassion. Unfortunately my plans of going as "Kate McCann: Child Minder" had been twarted by not being able to find a Kate mask anywhere. Apparently I'm a wee bit premature and such masks aren't available. Just wait til next year, they'll be everywhere you wait and see.
In the end the lack of a Kate mask blew everything out of the water, and even a last ditch attempt to go as Heather McCartney (with one of us as her leg, lost and searching for it's owner) fell flat, so we stuck with our old favourites - a group of ghostly Chinese winkle pickers, forever stuck in mud and trying to reach land. Tasteful I'm sure you'll agree.
Oh, just for the record, the Brou-Ha-Ha joke competition question was:
Q: What's the difference between Heather McCartney and a broom?
There was a large number of very funny answers, but the eventual winner was:
A: A broom didn't have a spaz-attack on GMTV this morning.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Hard On
Last weekend saw my first visit to "Hard On", London's notorious once a month sex-club thingy. The Boyf and I have often talked about going, but now OBM#1 DJ's there sometimes, and with last Saturday also seeing the return of Buck Angel, all roads seemed to lead to "Hidden" (the venue).
Much of Saturday was spent trying to find something to wear. Hard On has a strict dress code, and as usual with these places sadly it isn't bustles or frock-coats. I eventually bought a new pair of combats, which seemed to just about fit with the "uniform" part of the dress code, and backed them up with rubber shorts, which seemed to fit in better with the attire I was expecting to see. Unfortunately that's all they did fit; once I'd returned home and managed to wriggle into them - removing a large amount of leg hair in the process - I closely resembled a sausage that'd been in a microwave too long and had burst out all over the place, with only a tightly restricted bit in the middle. The Boyf tried to calm me down, telling me that I wouldn't look any worse than a lot of the people that were likely to be there. Yeah, cause saying that really helped! So I peeled the shorts back off, taking with it another large patch of leg hair, and reverted to the combats.
On arriving at Hidden I found myself to be utterly over-dressed, even in the queue. People wandered around scantily clad, in and out of the building, to and fro the smoking area. Nudity seemed a popular option. I mean, it saves all that ironing doesn't it? Once inside we had a reasonable wait for the coat check, which I thought would be worse considering many where checking in every item of clothing they'd turned up in. I demurely shrugged off my coat and headed to the bar for a stiff drink. I was going to need it.
We'd arrived early so that we could, er, ease ourselves in gently. Get used to the surroundings before things got... well... rude. Needless to say it was quite a shock to wander through to another room to find someone already being fisted. "Blimey! Doesn't leave much for him to look forward to, does it?", I remarked to The Boyf in a too-loud voice, and we hastily headed back to the bar for more drinks. Finally Our Best Mates showed up, both in combats, making me not so conspicuously over-dressed anymore. Then The God appeared, in chaps - sigh - and looked very pleased to see us. The crowd was growing - full rubber was as popular a choice as nudity. There was a lot of squeaking. I worried about everyone being chaffed the next day.
Finally Buck made an appearance. Er, so, where's the rest of him/her? He/She's tiny! We where then treated to a "policeman" jumping on stage to try to stop the show. He struggled with Buck, who won out in the end and started to strip the "policeman". It was really tense there for a moment. (Rolls eyes). I won't go into gory details, because much of it I couldn't see anyway, being shorter than anyone else in my group. Needless to say, someone got shagged with a truncheon and it wasn't me. We took a quick straw-poll about who'd have sex with Buck, and it seems we all would, and not necessarily up the poop chute either. So she's obviously doing something right.
The rest of the evening was spent on the dancefloor, metaphorically clutching my housecoat around me. The music in the first room was great, I have to say. The second room started off brilliantly, then someone obviously decided that normal house music tempo was too slow, and upped it by a factor of 100%. The last time we went in it sounded like someone had turned a pneumatic drill on and left in a hurry. The lesbians seemed to love it. Couldn't quite work out why. Perhaps it's something to do with the vibrations.
So we danced our arses off and had a very fun night, apart from the time a guy in a gas mask scared the bejebus out of me by sitting in a dark corner in the toilets. I regained my composure and asked if he was my Mummy, but he didn't reply. Or couldn't, I guess. At around 4am The Boyf and I decided to finally venture into the third room to see what was happening. What was happening was that lots and lots of people were having the sex, sometimes not even confining themselves to one at a time. Dirty, dirty birdies! I would have watched slack-jawed but for the fact that I was worried about someone ramming something down my throat without bothering to ask me first. Any hole was obviously a goal. In some cases a large, open-mouthed goal. Along one side were a row of slings. Each was occupied and each occupant was also occupied. The symmetry pleased me. Just standing quietly to one side wasn't enough to deter some people, and before I knew it a hand had slammed down the back of my combats and my arse was slick with lube. The Boyf glared at the guy, I gave a faint smile and a "No thanks" and off he went again.
We left at chucking-out time, having done absolutely nothing naughty, and walked with OBM#1 back to his car, his DJ set over for another month, and then headed home to bed. All in all, we had a thoroughly enjoyable evening out and will repeat it next month I'm sure. In the meantime I'm going to try to lose the bit of weight I've put on over the last few month so that I can squeeze into my shorts without looking like Daffyd from Little Britain. Hopefully the leg hair will have grown back by then too.
Much of Saturday was spent trying to find something to wear. Hard On has a strict dress code, and as usual with these places sadly it isn't bustles or frock-coats. I eventually bought a new pair of combats, which seemed to just about fit with the "uniform" part of the dress code, and backed them up with rubber shorts, which seemed to fit in better with the attire I was expecting to see. Unfortunately that's all they did fit; once I'd returned home and managed to wriggle into them - removing a large amount of leg hair in the process - I closely resembled a sausage that'd been in a microwave too long and had burst out all over the place, with only a tightly restricted bit in the middle. The Boyf tried to calm me down, telling me that I wouldn't look any worse than a lot of the people that were likely to be there. Yeah, cause saying that really helped! So I peeled the shorts back off, taking with it another large patch of leg hair, and reverted to the combats.
On arriving at Hidden I found myself to be utterly over-dressed, even in the queue. People wandered around scantily clad, in and out of the building, to and fro the smoking area. Nudity seemed a popular option. I mean, it saves all that ironing doesn't it? Once inside we had a reasonable wait for the coat check, which I thought would be worse considering many where checking in every item of clothing they'd turned up in. I demurely shrugged off my coat and headed to the bar for a stiff drink. I was going to need it.
We'd arrived early so that we could, er, ease ourselves in gently. Get used to the surroundings before things got... well... rude. Needless to say it was quite a shock to wander through to another room to find someone already being fisted. "Blimey! Doesn't leave much for him to look forward to, does it?", I remarked to The Boyf in a too-loud voice, and we hastily headed back to the bar for more drinks. Finally Our Best Mates showed up, both in combats, making me not so conspicuously over-dressed anymore. Then The God appeared, in chaps - sigh - and looked very pleased to see us. The crowd was growing - full rubber was as popular a choice as nudity. There was a lot of squeaking. I worried about everyone being chaffed the next day.
Finally Buck made an appearance. Er, so, where's the rest of him/her? He/She's tiny! We where then treated to a "policeman" jumping on stage to try to stop the show. He struggled with Buck, who won out in the end and started to strip the "policeman". It was really tense there for a moment. (Rolls eyes). I won't go into gory details, because much of it I couldn't see anyway, being shorter than anyone else in my group. Needless to say, someone got shagged with a truncheon and it wasn't me. We took a quick straw-poll about who'd have sex with Buck, and it seems we all would, and not necessarily up the poop chute either. So she's obviously doing something right.
The rest of the evening was spent on the dancefloor, metaphorically clutching my housecoat around me. The music in the first room was great, I have to say. The second room started off brilliantly, then someone obviously decided that normal house music tempo was too slow, and upped it by a factor of 100%. The last time we went in it sounded like someone had turned a pneumatic drill on and left in a hurry. The lesbians seemed to love it. Couldn't quite work out why. Perhaps it's something to do with the vibrations.
So we danced our arses off and had a very fun night, apart from the time a guy in a gas mask scared the bejebus out of me by sitting in a dark corner in the toilets. I regained my composure and asked if he was my Mummy, but he didn't reply. Or couldn't, I guess. At around 4am The Boyf and I decided to finally venture into the third room to see what was happening. What was happening was that lots and lots of people were having the sex, sometimes not even confining themselves to one at a time. Dirty, dirty birdies! I would have watched slack-jawed but for the fact that I was worried about someone ramming something down my throat without bothering to ask me first. Any hole was obviously a goal. In some cases a large, open-mouthed goal. Along one side were a row of slings. Each was occupied and each occupant was also occupied. The symmetry pleased me. Just standing quietly to one side wasn't enough to deter some people, and before I knew it a hand had slammed down the back of my combats and my arse was slick with lube. The Boyf glared at the guy, I gave a faint smile and a "No thanks" and off he went again.
We left at chucking-out time, having done absolutely nothing naughty, and walked with OBM#1 back to his car, his DJ set over for another month, and then headed home to bed. All in all, we had a thoroughly enjoyable evening out and will repeat it next month I'm sure. In the meantime I'm going to try to lose the bit of weight I've put on over the last few month so that I can squeeze into my shorts without looking like Daffyd from Little Britain. Hopefully the leg hair will have grown back by then too.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Separated At Creation
I'm still trying to find images which back up my claim, but did anyone else notice the similarity between the Monster in ITV1's "Frankenstein" last night and Pete Doherty? Quite uncanny. All the Monster needed was a hat placed at a jaunty angle and a fag hanging out of it's mouth and Kate Moss would have come running. Of course, one is hideously ugly and not fit for society... and the other is the Monster. Boom, Boom! I than kewe.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
You Couldn't Make It Up
And "Comedy Headline Of The Year" award goes to...
http://www.metro.co.uk/news/article.html?in_article_id=72330&in_page_id=34
Yes, apparently Kate McCann wants a job in childcare, presumably so she can practise not going out and leaving them on their own. Ooops, lost another one! Better luck tomorrow. There are so many jokes here my mind is whirling.
If you were a parent would you really let her look after your children?
http://www.metro.co.uk/news/article.html?in_article_id=72330&in_page_id=34
Yes, apparently Kate McCann wants a job in childcare, presumably so she can practise not going out and leaving them on their own. Ooops, lost another one! Better luck tomorrow. There are so many jokes here my mind is whirling.
If you were a parent would you really let her look after your children?
Friday, October 05, 2007
My Favourite Rear
Did I ever mention I like cars? Well, yes, petrol runs through my veins. The Boyf says he finds it very attractive about me as it's very "normal blokey", in his words. What I think he means is that he was just glad I didn't turn out to collect Barbie dolls. Whilst finding it attractive in me he simultaneously seems to find it mind-numbingly boring, especially when I get excited in the street when I spot something rare or interesting. But then I'm sure I don't look terribly excited when he blathers on about Zygons and, er, those ones with the big heads. You know, rumoured to be in the next series. Sounds like Sultana.
So, moving swiftly to the point - finally - I would like to share with you my current favourite backside. It's a Lamborghini Reventon, it costs 1 million Euros, and only 1 is headed to the UK (out of a total production run of just 20). I won't bore you with all the details about who designed it etc. So if you happen to know who's bought that sole Lambo please let me know so I can prostrate myself before it. Thank you.
So, moving swiftly to the point - finally - I would like to share with you my current favourite backside. It's a Lamborghini Reventon, it costs 1 million Euros, and only 1 is headed to the UK (out of a total production run of just 20). I won't bore you with all the details about who designed it etc. So if you happen to know who's bought that sole Lambo please let me know so I can prostrate myself before it. Thank you.
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