Some quick blog notes for today as I am busy. Busy doing what you might ask? Well my two responses to you are: 1) back off nosey face and 2) busy doing nuttin'. This is possible. By nuttin' I mean nothing. I'm not going round headbutting people, although that would take up quite a bit of time, especially if you count all the head resting I've have to do inbetween. No, I really am busy doing nothing. Well its lots of little bits of something that overall only amount to little bits of other things but generally if you were to compare them to, say, solving all the world's global warming issues, they would really amount to nothing. So in light of how much of my time nothing takes up, here you go:
CAT PARTY
The noticed yesterday that the front of the catflap ie the little bit that is the entrance from the outside cat world, had fallen off. I noticed this because everytime I stood near it, my legs got very cold, but also because, at around 1am last night, a small gathering of cats appeared in our living room. It was like some sort of cat party. I was also in the living room and this didn't seem to deter them as I was playing Xbox and hadn't yet noticed our house being used as a feline den of social activity. It was only when I put my controller down and noticed all three of the cats which weren't ours, they stared at me guiltily and bolted out. I presume an open cat flap is a cats way of inviting all the neighbours round for a housewarming or something. I have now fixed the catflap out of fear that I will come home one night to find hundreds of them smoking, drinking, dancing and wrecking the place.
CAT DOCTORS
Second cat item on the agenda today as I had to take one of our cats, Rosie to the vet, as she has a burst abcess on her back from a nasty cat bite. She doesn't seem bothered by this which makes me think either all cats are hardcore or Rosie, in particular is some sort of action cat. The latter seems likely which is why she's currently choosing to sleep on top of the high cupboard by our bed only to jump down, inches away from Layla's face while she sleeps, often scaring the crap out of her as she lands. I find it consistently amusing. Anyway our vet's is called Dragon Vet which is a creepy name for a vet place. It insinuates either they have been treating all animals since dragons existed and they are wizard types or they are some sort of triad group. Either way the vet I saw was an arsey man who insisted everything I fed our cat ie cat food was wrong and we were to buy some stupidly expensive organic cat food with kooky names which essentially contains the same thing as all the others but has a fancier package. He also said our cat, who is particularly small and runt like, was overweight and that cats should feel like a bag of bones. I started to worry that he was some sort of anorexic cat fancier. To be fair he sorted our cat out and she spent the car journey home meowing like a retarded siren.
PARSNIP PUKE
Yesterday I made parsnip and carrot soup. It tastes nice, but it looks like vomit. I want to eat it, because it smells good, but then I look at it and don't want to eat it. I've tried eating it with my eyes closed but I spilt it on my jumper and it looked like I'd puked on myself. Sometimes my life is just too stressful.
FOUR POUNDS
I have £4 to my name for the forseeable future. I'm not sure what to do about this and part of me likes the challenge of having to live on £4. I reckon it can be done for a little while and it means I experiment and make things parsnip soup that looks like vomit. My main problem is that a few days ago our car got a flat tyre. That's not a problem in itself as I've changed a tyre all by myself once (admittedly my dad was there too, but he just watched. And said when I did things wrong) and would be up for doing it again especially as there are pictures on the internet. The big problem is that tyres cost more than £4. Well I'm sure there are £4 tyres, but I wouldn't want to risk using them. Without a tyre I can't drive to gigs, which would give me money to buy a tyre. I haven't got the train fare to get to the gigs to then buy a tyre, because train fares are more than £4. This sounds like one of those sorts of problems I would get given in maths GCSE then promptly fail. As a result, I am going to stand in the kitchen and put two apples in one hand and a satsuma in the other. Eventually someone should tell me a solution.
SONGS FOR TODAY
Here are two songs for today. The first is a track by David Lyre and remixed by my brother who goes under the moniker of The Last Skeptik. I like the word moniker and it makes me think of the character in friends despite the spelling difference. If you imagine that, then re-read the last sentence, its hella funny. Anyway, my bro who's done work with lots of music types, like Get Cape Wear Cape Fly and King Blues, is releasing his own remix album very soonish. Here's a taster of it:
DAVID LYRE - CONSTELLATION (THE LAST SKEPTIK REMIX)
Here's another one what he did too:
HONG KONG IN THE 60'S - FOOTSTEPS (THE LAST SKEPTIK REMIX)
I want to hate his music because he's my younger brother and that's what you're meant to do with siblings. Pretend to be supportive but actually be loathing. But as it is, I think its all really good and we get along. I feel like I let all sterotypes down. Sorry.
Last track is this from Andrew Thompson which I've been playing loudly a lot today:
Or normal link for you facebookers:
ANDREW THOMPSON - THERE MUST BE SOME KIND OF MISUNDERSTANDIN
Back to doing nothing.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Unsung Heroes
Migraines are really shit. I wish they were yourgraines or someoneelsesgraines. I realise this joke only works if you pronounce it my-graines as opposed to the way lots of people say me-graines. Well if you say me-graines then here is a sentence for you: Migraines are really shit. I wish they were yougrains or someoneelsesgraines. Very little changed there but it made a big difference. What didn't make a difference to my graine yesterday was...bloody anything! Anadins just made me absorb all the caffeine and be awake with a headache. Having a nap made me sleepy with horrible pounding behind the eyes evilness. Drinking loads of water made my bladder and brain hurt all at once. I was contemplating drilling a hole in my skull to let the demons out or breaking my own leg so I'd be distracted by a worse pain. Instead I hid under Layla's slanket, in the dark, for hours, being bored. This was not my intended way to spend the day. In fact I was really looking forward to heading along to the comedian's Christmas party that happened last night and I was also booked in to do a set at Josie Long's lovely gig in Camden, The Lost Treasures of The Black Heart. I'd prepared a whole bit on unsung heroes which will now never be aired because everytime I moved it made me feel sick and my eyeballs throbbed as though they were trying to leave my skull.
Writing about unsung heroes made me realise I had a list of people who had done small things in life that I hailed at the time as works of genius and will continue to do so until the sun explodes, or I die. Which will happen first? Who knows. Who knows indeed. Anyway, while I don't want to use the specific story I may have told last night, just incase I do find a way to place it within a set at some point later on, here are some of the people, who along my life path, I've decided are unsung heroes:
1) Tony at West One - Many a moon ago, me and my friend Mat worked as runners for a TV editing company just off Oxford Street. During this short period we learnt many an important life skill such as never to be a runner ever again, how to hold several cups of tea at once, where to buy a specific bottle of Purdeys from, that the woman from Superman 2 exists, how heavy an air conditioning unit really is, and how far good spinny wheely chairs go when on newly waxed wooden floors. But above all these, we learnt that Tony who worked at West One Cafe (which is now sadly closed) was a genius. Firstly he called me boss. I've never been and never will be anyone's boss, so for him to automatically see that I am clearly the boss of everyone was an awesome gesture. I'm sure part of it was said tongue in cheek, but I'll ignore that bit. Secondly and most importantly, you could buy a lot of nice food in West One, but the trick was to get a sandwich. For while it may not have been as grand as any of the salads, wraps, pasta or other assortment of treats, if you ordered a sandwich, you got to see Tony's superpower. Huddle round people huddle round, incase the FBI hear this and want him for tests. Tony, could, using just one swift movement, butter a piece of bread from corner to corner. In one stroke of the knife. The knife that every time had exactly the right splodge of butter upon it. Round of applause please. That man was a genius. I will never ever know how he did that and I hope he's somewhere now spreading condiments like a master.
2) Magician Busker - Once, while stuck in a dead end temp job and trying to while my lunch hour away in a sunny Leicester Square, a rather scruffy looking man approached me whilst I was eating my sandwich. I started to fumble for change expecting the obvious, but this man did not bring the obvious. No, he brought tiny moments of wizardry. He held his hand up to say 'stop' as I was looking for change, so I did. He then asked me if I believe in magic. I say 'yeah, why not', because I'm that kind of crazy care free rebel of the moment type. And I was sitting down and I was scared he'd mug me if I said no. He smiled and brought out two red sponge balls. He held one in his hand and gave me one and told me to put it on my hand and close my fist. He closed his fist too. I then had to shake my hand three times and say 'I believe in magic' and when I opened my hand, I had two sponge balls in it, and he had none. Now, I'm aware that someone like the wizard Pete Firman would scoff at a trick as easy as this, but I was merely a youth and it was a lovely moment of fun in my otherwise tedious lunch hour. The man then asked me to spare change if I could and I gave him one whole English pound. If he'd sawn a lady in half I'd have given him £3. No I'm not saying all homeless people should do magic tricks instead of busking, but they should.
3) Sauces Man - On a train home from the Edinburgh fringe in 2008, I was a broken and tired man. It had been a long month as usual and the train was filled with a horde of broken comedians. I decided to use my last few pounds on an overpriced egg mayonnaise sandwich from the buffet cart. You might note at this point that all my tales so far, have involved, in some sort or another, a sandwich. I'd like to say this is purely coincidence but I think that the Earl of Sandwich created something of genius when putting filling between those two bits of bread and I'm sure genius will always gravitate towards his creation. Also, I do eat a lot of sandwiches. Its possible that had any of these incidents happened on other days or times, I would also have been eating a sandwich. Anyway, I bought my sandwich from the tiny crouched Yorkshire man at the buffet cart, and as I did, he walked up close to the counter, and said 'There's some sauces for you there', gave a wink, then put a tomato ketchup, mayonnaise and mustard sachet in my paper bag. He then moved back to making tea, looking very smug about himself as though he'd saved someone's life. I was baffled by this. You do not need sauces for a sandwich, least of all egg mayonnaise, the least sauce needing sandwich there is. I then stayed and watched him do exactly the same thing to the next customer, confusing them too. For a while I wondered if he lived in a state where all food needed all sauces at all times, and perhaps he assumed that others would be grateful for this lunch based extra. Then I realised he'd just figured out a way to confuse everyone, and to brighten up this constantly dull 4 hour journey. This man was a legend.
4) Sad Clown - Once, on the train back from somewhere, but nowhere in particular, me and Mat saw a man who looked like the most broken upset human you've ever seen. Except, he also looked like a clown that had just been fired. His orangey hair stuck out at the sides in the same fashion as Krusty or any other famous proprietor of clownery. He had a long jacket, very big shoes and a longish face with a roundish nose. There was a small flower in his pocket that perhaps, on a better day, would have squirted water at someone, followed by a cheeky laugh. Even his expression of sadness looked like it was an over the top piece of Komedia Dell Arte. Needless to say he made me and Mat laugh a lot. This may seem mean, but I think actually, that means even though he was sad, he was still excelling at being a brilliant clown.
5) Wolf Man - He collected the rubbish from my parents house and he looked like Wolverine. I'll be honest, I'm easily pleased.
That's all of them. I'm off now to take my cat to the vet's. So she can hear some old war stories. Arf.
Writing about unsung heroes made me realise I had a list of people who had done small things in life that I hailed at the time as works of genius and will continue to do so until the sun explodes, or I die. Which will happen first? Who knows. Who knows indeed. Anyway, while I don't want to use the specific story I may have told last night, just incase I do find a way to place it within a set at some point later on, here are some of the people, who along my life path, I've decided are unsung heroes:
1) Tony at West One - Many a moon ago, me and my friend Mat worked as runners for a TV editing company just off Oxford Street. During this short period we learnt many an important life skill such as never to be a runner ever again, how to hold several cups of tea at once, where to buy a specific bottle of Purdeys from, that the woman from Superman 2 exists, how heavy an air conditioning unit really is, and how far good spinny wheely chairs go when on newly waxed wooden floors. But above all these, we learnt that Tony who worked at West One Cafe (which is now sadly closed) was a genius. Firstly he called me boss. I've never been and never will be anyone's boss, so for him to automatically see that I am clearly the boss of everyone was an awesome gesture. I'm sure part of it was said tongue in cheek, but I'll ignore that bit. Secondly and most importantly, you could buy a lot of nice food in West One, but the trick was to get a sandwich. For while it may not have been as grand as any of the salads, wraps, pasta or other assortment of treats, if you ordered a sandwich, you got to see Tony's superpower. Huddle round people huddle round, incase the FBI hear this and want him for tests. Tony, could, using just one swift movement, butter a piece of bread from corner to corner. In one stroke of the knife. The knife that every time had exactly the right splodge of butter upon it. Round of applause please. That man was a genius. I will never ever know how he did that and I hope he's somewhere now spreading condiments like a master.
2) Magician Busker - Once, while stuck in a dead end temp job and trying to while my lunch hour away in a sunny Leicester Square, a rather scruffy looking man approached me whilst I was eating my sandwich. I started to fumble for change expecting the obvious, but this man did not bring the obvious. No, he brought tiny moments of wizardry. He held his hand up to say 'stop' as I was looking for change, so I did. He then asked me if I believe in magic. I say 'yeah, why not', because I'm that kind of crazy care free rebel of the moment type. And I was sitting down and I was scared he'd mug me if I said no. He smiled and brought out two red sponge balls. He held one in his hand and gave me one and told me to put it on my hand and close my fist. He closed his fist too. I then had to shake my hand three times and say 'I believe in magic' and when I opened my hand, I had two sponge balls in it, and he had none. Now, I'm aware that someone like the wizard Pete Firman would scoff at a trick as easy as this, but I was merely a youth and it was a lovely moment of fun in my otherwise tedious lunch hour. The man then asked me to spare change if I could and I gave him one whole English pound. If he'd sawn a lady in half I'd have given him £3. No I'm not saying all homeless people should do magic tricks instead of busking, but they should.
3) Sauces Man - On a train home from the Edinburgh fringe in 2008, I was a broken and tired man. It had been a long month as usual and the train was filled with a horde of broken comedians. I decided to use my last few pounds on an overpriced egg mayonnaise sandwich from the buffet cart. You might note at this point that all my tales so far, have involved, in some sort or another, a sandwich. I'd like to say this is purely coincidence but I think that the Earl of Sandwich created something of genius when putting filling between those two bits of bread and I'm sure genius will always gravitate towards his creation. Also, I do eat a lot of sandwiches. Its possible that had any of these incidents happened on other days or times, I would also have been eating a sandwich. Anyway, I bought my sandwich from the tiny crouched Yorkshire man at the buffet cart, and as I did, he walked up close to the counter, and said 'There's some sauces for you there', gave a wink, then put a tomato ketchup, mayonnaise and mustard sachet in my paper bag. He then moved back to making tea, looking very smug about himself as though he'd saved someone's life. I was baffled by this. You do not need sauces for a sandwich, least of all egg mayonnaise, the least sauce needing sandwich there is. I then stayed and watched him do exactly the same thing to the next customer, confusing them too. For a while I wondered if he lived in a state where all food needed all sauces at all times, and perhaps he assumed that others would be grateful for this lunch based extra. Then I realised he'd just figured out a way to confuse everyone, and to brighten up this constantly dull 4 hour journey. This man was a legend.
4) Sad Clown - Once, on the train back from somewhere, but nowhere in particular, me and Mat saw a man who looked like the most broken upset human you've ever seen. Except, he also looked like a clown that had just been fired. His orangey hair stuck out at the sides in the same fashion as Krusty or any other famous proprietor of clownery. He had a long jacket, very big shoes and a longish face with a roundish nose. There was a small flower in his pocket that perhaps, on a better day, would have squirted water at someone, followed by a cheeky laugh. Even his expression of sadness looked like it was an over the top piece of Komedia Dell Arte. Needless to say he made me and Mat laugh a lot. This may seem mean, but I think actually, that means even though he was sad, he was still excelling at being a brilliant clown.
5) Wolf Man - He collected the rubbish from my parents house and he looked like Wolverine. I'll be honest, I'm easily pleased.
That's all of them. I'm off now to take my cat to the vet's. So she can hear some old war stories. Arf.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Praise of Songs
I watched Glee last night and I liked it. I'm honestly not sure what's wrong me at the moment. Admittedly I think its ok to like Glee considering everyone seems to like Glee, and most importantly I saw on Twitter Simon Pegg likes Glee, so I think I'm allowed to like it to. To be fair it had some lovely gags in there, and purposefully cringeworthy moments, along with a great script. The only moments I genuinely couldn't stand were the random bursting into song bits. I've never been a fan of this and its why, to this day there are only a handful of musicals I've ever been able to handle. These are:
Singin' In The Rain - Remember when dancing and singing was manly? Neither do I, but Gene Kelly did it and he was a proper man, who gets the girl and duffs up a vocab teacher. Yeah badass. How can anyone hate the song Good Morning? I'll tell you. When its played very early in the morning very loudly like I did when still drunk on my 21st birthday in my student house. I enjoyed it. Others who were still asleep, less so. Moses Supposes is my favourite though and was clearly written by a loon. Amazing stuff. And its all clever and about the first ever talking films, which is all historical and that. It still totally holds its own nowadays even though George Sampson and a CGI Gene Kelly have both tried to mess it up with all that yobbish bodypopping and that.* Shame they never released the sequel Pissing In The Wind.
Tommy - How unmusical can you get? Music by the Who and a story line about a child abuse and the evils of fame. It was a shame the square headed king of nauseating camp Elton John had anything to do with the film as otherwise Pinball Wizard is a track of legend. I've never seen the film, mostly for Elton John reasons (I won't lie, there is something about the man I loathe more than Lothian Road. Which I don't loathe. It just sounds loathy), but I saw it on stage when the dude that used to work in Tesco's got the star role and Kim Wilde played the mum, which was awesome. It is a rockpera without being anywhere near the same vomit covered ball park as We Will Rock You. Which incidentally is also the evil work of someone called Elton. Maybe I just hate Eltons.
West Side Story - Romeo and Juliet but done all with gangs and that. Awesome. I once sang 'It's Coming' for a NYT audition. I didn't get in. I think its because I ruined that song in a lot of ways. I've seen the stage version and when I did one of the gang members tried to throw and knife in the air and catch it again and he didn't and missed. Hahahahahahaha.
Kat and the Kings - A South African musical about a band of black South African's during the Apartheid who can tap dance and sing. Political, clever, and songs that don't make you want to pull your own eyes out with a fork.
Jerry Springer The Opera - Not really a musical, but an opera, and co-written by Stewart Lee. I will still always smirk whenever I hear the introductory song about the Devil.
Blues Brothers - technically a musical. Also the most amount of car mayhem ever in a film. Cab Calloway, Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin sing awesome music. Whats not to like? Nothing. Its brilliant and has some of the best quotes ever. 'It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.'
Shockheaded Peter - Kids getting their fingers chopped off and various other gruesome tales in songs by the Tiger Lillies. That's what musicals should be about.
That's it. That's all of them. Little Shop of Horrors is passable, and I will allow Mary Poppins, the Wizard of Oz - but not Wicked - and various other Disney films as they fall under the category of cartoon rather than musical as far as I'm concerned. And everything else makes me angry. I genuinely felt my temperature rise when Layla put Grease on once, and I've still never recovered from seeing Starlight Express. Its a show about toy trains for fucks sake. Why would anyone do that? Quick rundown of what I hate about musicals:
a) Unnecessary happy endings. Its just so horribly unrealistic. Don't get me wrong, I don't crave realism, hence why I like sci-fi films, or things with monsters in. However, things shouldn't always work out just so you can sing a happy clappy song at the end. Its why I like West Side Story. Death death death, and then lets have a sad sing song and a cry. Take that beaming toothed happy people with your shitty jazz hands!
b) Singing about everything. Its fine to sing about the big incidents or the moments of emotion, but when people start yawning on about tying their shoes, having a biscuit or doing a dance just for the sake of time filling, then it makes them look mentally ill.
c) Everyone looks like they've just been freshly cloned with faces so shiny it can deflect the sun's rays. Again, see number 1 for issues with realism.
d) A complete lack of storyline, heavily padded over by a couple of backflips or big songs. Just because you can defy gravity doesn't mean the show doesn't need to make sense. Yes its about Cats/Toy Trains/Someone in a mask who's dead but isn't dead, but I'd quite like some character development and sub-objectives to go with those big warbly notes please.
I'll admit, my opinion isn't well educated. I haven't sat through many musicals for fear I will break something or break down. But I'm fairly sure it won't happen with Glee. Even if it does, I'm watching it at home which is damage limitation. Today, I need to write some material for Josie Long's Lost Treasures of The Black Heart gig tonight, which I, as yet, have nothing for. This is not good, especially as I might need to take our cat Rosie to the vet because she is chewing off a bit of her own fur and Layla is worried. I'm not, I think she's trying to restyle her 'do', but apparently its more likely to be an infection. I would prefer the former, but then again a song about the latter would be more to my taste.
* I don't think bodypopping is yobbish. I am merely jealous that I cannot simulate robot movements at will. I also fear that the people who can are actually robots and its the beginning of an undercover operations where they begin as entertainment dancing bots and eventually start the Matrix/Terminator Salvation.
Singin' In The Rain - Remember when dancing and singing was manly? Neither do I, but Gene Kelly did it and he was a proper man, who gets the girl and duffs up a vocab teacher. Yeah badass. How can anyone hate the song Good Morning? I'll tell you. When its played very early in the morning very loudly like I did when still drunk on my 21st birthday in my student house. I enjoyed it. Others who were still asleep, less so. Moses Supposes is my favourite though and was clearly written by a loon. Amazing stuff. And its all clever and about the first ever talking films, which is all historical and that. It still totally holds its own nowadays even though George Sampson and a CGI Gene Kelly have both tried to mess it up with all that yobbish bodypopping and that.* Shame they never released the sequel Pissing In The Wind.
Tommy - How unmusical can you get? Music by the Who and a story line about a child abuse and the evils of fame. It was a shame the square headed king of nauseating camp Elton John had anything to do with the film as otherwise Pinball Wizard is a track of legend. I've never seen the film, mostly for Elton John reasons (I won't lie, there is something about the man I loathe more than Lothian Road. Which I don't loathe. It just sounds loathy), but I saw it on stage when the dude that used to work in Tesco's got the star role and Kim Wilde played the mum, which was awesome. It is a rockpera without being anywhere near the same vomit covered ball park as We Will Rock You. Which incidentally is also the evil work of someone called Elton. Maybe I just hate Eltons.
West Side Story - Romeo and Juliet but done all with gangs and that. Awesome. I once sang 'It's Coming' for a NYT audition. I didn't get in. I think its because I ruined that song in a lot of ways. I've seen the stage version and when I did one of the gang members tried to throw and knife in the air and catch it again and he didn't and missed. Hahahahahahaha.
Kat and the Kings - A South African musical about a band of black South African's during the Apartheid who can tap dance and sing. Political, clever, and songs that don't make you want to pull your own eyes out with a fork.
Jerry Springer The Opera - Not really a musical, but an opera, and co-written by Stewart Lee. I will still always smirk whenever I hear the introductory song about the Devil.
Blues Brothers - technically a musical. Also the most amount of car mayhem ever in a film. Cab Calloway, Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin sing awesome music. Whats not to like? Nothing. Its brilliant and has some of the best quotes ever. 'It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.'
Shockheaded Peter - Kids getting their fingers chopped off and various other gruesome tales in songs by the Tiger Lillies. That's what musicals should be about.
That's it. That's all of them. Little Shop of Horrors is passable, and I will allow Mary Poppins, the Wizard of Oz - but not Wicked - and various other Disney films as they fall under the category of cartoon rather than musical as far as I'm concerned. And everything else makes me angry. I genuinely felt my temperature rise when Layla put Grease on once, and I've still never recovered from seeing Starlight Express. Its a show about toy trains for fucks sake. Why would anyone do that? Quick rundown of what I hate about musicals:
a) Unnecessary happy endings. Its just so horribly unrealistic. Don't get me wrong, I don't crave realism, hence why I like sci-fi films, or things with monsters in. However, things shouldn't always work out just so you can sing a happy clappy song at the end. Its why I like West Side Story. Death death death, and then lets have a sad sing song and a cry. Take that beaming toothed happy people with your shitty jazz hands!
b) Singing about everything. Its fine to sing about the big incidents or the moments of emotion, but when people start yawning on about tying their shoes, having a biscuit or doing a dance just for the sake of time filling, then it makes them look mentally ill.
c) Everyone looks like they've just been freshly cloned with faces so shiny it can deflect the sun's rays. Again, see number 1 for issues with realism.
d) A complete lack of storyline, heavily padded over by a couple of backflips or big songs. Just because you can defy gravity doesn't mean the show doesn't need to make sense. Yes its about Cats/Toy Trains/Someone in a mask who's dead but isn't dead, but I'd quite like some character development and sub-objectives to go with those big warbly notes please.
I'll admit, my opinion isn't well educated. I haven't sat through many musicals for fear I will break something or break down. But I'm fairly sure it won't happen with Glee. Even if it does, I'm watching it at home which is damage limitation. Today, I need to write some material for Josie Long's Lost Treasures of The Black Heart gig tonight, which I, as yet, have nothing for. This is not good, especially as I might need to take our cat Rosie to the vet because she is chewing off a bit of her own fur and Layla is worried. I'm not, I think she's trying to restyle her 'do', but apparently its more likely to be an infection. I would prefer the former, but then again a song about the latter would be more to my taste.
* I don't think bodypopping is yobbish. I am merely jealous that I cannot simulate robot movements at will. I also fear that the people who can are actually robots and its the beginning of an undercover operations where they begin as entertainment dancing bots and eventually start the Matrix/Terminator Salvation.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Being Vegetarian Without Being Vegetarian
All the snow outside our flat has gone. I feel a little bit like the boy in The Snowman when the snowman melts, only less able to sing and also a lot less emotional. In fact, once again I've just given a simile which isn't true. I don't feel at all like the kid in the snowman. He had a magical adventure, whereas I just nearly fell over on the ice a few times and felt very cold. It did have the lovely effect of making everything look nice for a bit though. Even the job centre at the end of our road looked slightly more serene than normal. This may be because its been too cold for people to stand outside shouting at each other and because all their dogs slip and skate making them less 'killer illegal breed' and more 'killer illegal that bit in Bambi'. Only main difference is that if these beasts were in Bambi they'd probably kill their own mothers making the ending a bit less emotional.
So now there is no snow, and Christmas and my birthday is definitely over, it feels like holiday time has stopped. So to comfort myself in this harsh catapult into the face of reality, I am going to spend today playing the new Xbox games I got for my birthday and deal with everything else tomorrow. Some people might say this is a slackers way to deal with things, but I would argue that in the same way someone couldn't just stop taking heroin, they'd have to slowly wean themselves off it, I am much the same with relaxation. Today for example, I may sit in an uncomfortable way for a few hours. Tomorrow, I will do two bits of work, then sit uncomfortably for a few hours, then stand around a bit. I will continue this trend until by next week, I am spending the day working uncomfortably while standing around. The being uncomfortable and standing will hinder the work and I will slowly have to wean myself back into a series of comfortable working sitting positions. Sadly, once I am in these comfortable working sitting positions, I don't want to do much. And so, dear reader (for there is only one of you), you can see the sort of terrible dilemma my life is constantly in.
But of course I jest. That's my job, jesting, so of course I do it. Otherwise I would be out of work even more than I already am. Today, apart from Xbox playing I am doing a tiny weeny bit of work, and, AND AND, I am going to cook something from my trendy new veggie cookbook that Layla's mum bought me. Its called 'The Vegetarian Option' and has some really rather lovely things in it. I'd already bought it for my parents and my brother, being that we are all veggies, I thought it was one of those clever presents that sorts out present getting in one go. Then I realised I quite liked all the stuff in it as well. The only thing is, as much as I'm excited about making things from it - and no, you cannot mock excitement about cookery, for cookery leads to eatery and eatery is brilliant - there are two problems, both of which I shall highlight in picture form for you now:
Problem Number 1 -
What the hell does that quote mean? How on Earth can you be 'vegetarian without being vegetarian'? I understand how perhaps someone could be say 'Jewish without being Jewish' in that perhaps they eat bacon or eaten of a non-blessed plate, but you at least stay Jewish in heritage or ancestry. Whereas if you are vegetarian but you aren't being vegetarian then you eat meat which means YOU AREN'T A VEGETARIAN! Is this book aimed at people who aren't veggies but like eating vegetables? If so then there should be no shame in buying a veggie cookbook. I can't imagine they are sitting thinking ' Oh god, I can't have all my friends assuming I'm a vegetarian because I bought this book. They'll stop inviting me to cow biting days and the meatings where we sit, drink meat broth and discuss the best way to marinade pig eyes. I know, I'll get a cookbook that means I'll be vegetarian without being vegetarian.' If you are reading this thinking that you have had exactly that conversation in your head then please let it be known you are a mega cockhouse.
Problem Number 2 -
I'll admit there is little to say about this that shouldn't already be expected from my previous paragraph. But, if, like in the very hard to read bit at the bottom of the pic, you find it hard to make soup without a chicken stock because you are a 'carnivore at heart', BUY ANOTHER FUCKING BOOK FOR MEAT EATERS! Phew, deep breaths, and sudden regret I've bought this book for so many people. Sigh.
Two small notes in addendum:
1) My face is very beardy. This is good as it keeps warmth in my face, and because Layla likes it. This is bad because MY FACE IS REALLY ITCHY! Seriously, I think its why some of today's blog has been in capitals. There is little other way to cope. STOP THE ITCHING PLEASE STOP IT!
2) I am doing Josie Long's rather superb night in Camden tomorrow called The Lost Treasures Of The Black Heart. It will be a lovely night apart from my bit as I havent got a clue what to talk about yet and today I am playing Xbox so will have to figure it out tomorrow. But you should come. There will be great acts and nice merchandise and cakes and all sorts. Here's the linkery:
http://www.spoonfed.co.uk/london/event/josie-long-lost-treasures-of-the-black-heart/at/the-black-heart/
So now there is no snow, and Christmas and my birthday is definitely over, it feels like holiday time has stopped. So to comfort myself in this harsh catapult into the face of reality, I am going to spend today playing the new Xbox games I got for my birthday and deal with everything else tomorrow. Some people might say this is a slackers way to deal with things, but I would argue that in the same way someone couldn't just stop taking heroin, they'd have to slowly wean themselves off it, I am much the same with relaxation. Today for example, I may sit in an uncomfortable way for a few hours. Tomorrow, I will do two bits of work, then sit uncomfortably for a few hours, then stand around a bit. I will continue this trend until by next week, I am spending the day working uncomfortably while standing around. The being uncomfortable and standing will hinder the work and I will slowly have to wean myself back into a series of comfortable working sitting positions. Sadly, once I am in these comfortable working sitting positions, I don't want to do much. And so, dear reader (for there is only one of you), you can see the sort of terrible dilemma my life is constantly in.
But of course I jest. That's my job, jesting, so of course I do it. Otherwise I would be out of work even more than I already am. Today, apart from Xbox playing I am doing a tiny weeny bit of work, and, AND AND, I am going to cook something from my trendy new veggie cookbook that Layla's mum bought me. Its called 'The Vegetarian Option' and has some really rather lovely things in it. I'd already bought it for my parents and my brother, being that we are all veggies, I thought it was one of those clever presents that sorts out present getting in one go. Then I realised I quite liked all the stuff in it as well. The only thing is, as much as I'm excited about making things from it - and no, you cannot mock excitement about cookery, for cookery leads to eatery and eatery is brilliant - there are two problems, both of which I shall highlight in picture form for you now:
Problem Number 1 -
What the hell does that quote mean? How on Earth can you be 'vegetarian without being vegetarian'? I understand how perhaps someone could be say 'Jewish without being Jewish' in that perhaps they eat bacon or eaten of a non-blessed plate, but you at least stay Jewish in heritage or ancestry. Whereas if you are vegetarian but you aren't being vegetarian then you eat meat which means YOU AREN'T A VEGETARIAN! Is this book aimed at people who aren't veggies but like eating vegetables? If so then there should be no shame in buying a veggie cookbook. I can't imagine they are sitting thinking ' Oh god, I can't have all my friends assuming I'm a vegetarian because I bought this book. They'll stop inviting me to cow biting days and the meatings where we sit, drink meat broth and discuss the best way to marinade pig eyes. I know, I'll get a cookbook that means I'll be vegetarian without being vegetarian.' If you are reading this thinking that you have had exactly that conversation in your head then please let it be known you are a mega cockhouse.
Problem Number 2 -
I'll admit there is little to say about this that shouldn't already be expected from my previous paragraph. But, if, like in the very hard to read bit at the bottom of the pic, you find it hard to make soup without a chicken stock because you are a 'carnivore at heart', BUY ANOTHER FUCKING BOOK FOR MEAT EATERS! Phew, deep breaths, and sudden regret I've bought this book for so many people. Sigh.
Two small notes in addendum:
1) My face is very beardy. This is good as it keeps warmth in my face, and because Layla likes it. This is bad because MY FACE IS REALLY ITCHY! Seriously, I think its why some of today's blog has been in capitals. There is little other way to cope. STOP THE ITCHING PLEASE STOP IT!
2) I am doing Josie Long's rather superb night in Camden tomorrow called The Lost Treasures Of The Black Heart. It will be a lovely night apart from my bit as I havent got a clue what to talk about yet and today I am playing Xbox so will have to figure it out tomorrow. But you should come. There will be great acts and nice merchandise and cakes and all sorts. Here's the linkery:
http://www.spoonfed.co.uk/london/event/josie-long-lost-treasures-of-the-black-heart/at/the-black-heart/
Sunday, January 10, 2010
The Little Dog Barfed
Before I start this blog, I'd like to point out I am by no means experienced in the world of theatre criticism. I know this shocks many of you who automatically assumed a cat like me would be damn well experienced in everything from the ways of lady killing to plate spinning, but promptly supporting all non-deceiving appearances, I'm not very good at a lot of things, theatre critiquing being number 278 on a list of several thousands. However, I feel I'm qualified enough to know when a performance is a steaming turd of boredom. To say I know nothing about the theatre would be a lie. Years of being a drama student in GCSE, A Level and then degree mean I've seen a lot of plays, studied a lot of plays and acted in a few plays, once as a statue in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when I was 6. That was pretty much a pivotal point in my career. Ever since then people have often looked past me as though I could have been made of stone and I wonder if that's just my inability to ever let that precious role go.
I rarely get to go to the theatre anymore, due to the life of gigging which renders any fun evening activities into non-happenings. So when I do go, I usually try and be careful about what I see. Theatre can be amazing. It can be properly, knock-you-back-and-make-you-speechless amazing. I'm still in awe of a production called Streets of Crocodiles by Complicite that I saw when I was 17 and more recently a production by the same people called A Disappearing Number which confused me and delighted me all at once. I'm not going to explain why, partly because they were pretty complex plays and it would take several blogs to do a synopsis of either, but also because, and here's the crucial bit, my lack of theatre critic abilities would not do either justice. Just trust me, they was both well wicked. Then on the other hand, when theatre goes bad, it can be excruciating. This has happened to me very rarely, with one notable case being Ralph Fienes in Brand, a Bertold Brecht play that was meant to be performed with some degree of 4th wall removal and the notion that 'it is a play' (that's was Brecht did do or summat like that) but had this been done in any more wooden a fashion I would not have been surprised if a lumberjack had walked on stage and gathered all the cast up for his fire. That was and still is, the only time I've left a play before its finished.
Last night however, I really wanted to repeat that gesture. Now, before I launch into why oh why it was such a sack of tedium, I would like to point out that it was a preview showing so things may change and its probably cheeky to be detrimental so early on. However me and Layla took this into consideration, as did our friends Mat and Hannah, and against the odds, decided we would go anyway as it'd be fun. It was too, starting the night with a Chinese in China Town where the waiters spat more venom as they delivered each course than some sort of dangerous snake, and then during the play when we would childishly make each other giggle with expressions of torment at the on stage goings on. And now, after two paragraphs of waffle, why I thought the play last night was rubbish:
It was two hours of nothing. That is it. Two hours where people talked with words that no one would ever really say, over exaggerated gestures and emotions that didn't exist and you didn't care about. It was a pile of conceited nothing. A play about an actor who is secretly gay but isn't allowed to be because Hollywood won't like it. He has an agent who is lesbian and bolshy, there is the rent-boy he has fallen in love with and a girl that has absolutely no point in being in the show till the last five minutes when the script writer who had obviously been in a real hurry to leave the house that day, had just shoved her in in a quick 'let's tie up all the strands in the way a 7 year old would' way. The cast was made of some very strong actors and they were all very good too and played their roles as best as could be done given the script contained such retarded lines as 'I should change my name to the Netherlands cos I go dark so quick'. If anyone would like to try and explain what that line means I will give you a prize. I can only assume they meant Finland or Scandinavia in terms of daily sunlight during the winter months, but ignorance conquered wit once again.
I didn't connect with any of the characters, often found I just didn't know what everyone was going on about and mostly really didn't give a fuck. It had no deeper meaning, wasn't insightful about anything and seemed to be a play about celebrity culture which had celebrities in the cast without any sense of irony. Yet between two men prancing around their pants a lot, and the agent character making silly shouting noises, the audience loved it. It was a shame as everything about the production was done with a high standard lighting, set, etc, but it was just a terrible script. We all left the play asking ourselves how on earth a play like that could be commissioned for a West End run, and answering ourselves with the knowledge that its the sort of shallow mean-nothing shit that viewers of the X-Factor and readers of Heat will love. Its the sad truth that that dumbed down idiocy has now hit theatre too. Maybe its been there for ages but I haven't been paying attention, and if that's the case, its yet another medium that's being killed off for anyone with any striving for intelligence. I did get an ice-cream in the interval though and that was pretty good.
So if you get a chance to go, don't. Other than that we had a nice drink with my friend who's involved with the show afterwards where we all vented similar thoughts and the rest of my birthday was ace too. I got some great presents and I spent an entire two hours configuring my new sat nav so that the icon that represents my car is now a picture of a banana. I'm not sure how long that will keep me amused for, but I'm reckoning quite a while. At some point I will splash out and get a comedy voice for it too, which will be funny for an even shorter amount of time and eventually I will revert all icons and voices back to default and realise either I am humourless or all the people that create this things are the sort of people who still laugh at 'It'll Be Alright On The Night'. Or at that play.
Rant over. If you don't already, do download the Precious Little (or as I have decided to call it Precocious Spittle) podcast this week. Its a consistently funny podcast anyway - though not anywhere near as funny as Collins and Herring - but this week as they recorded it yesterday, its been dedicated to my birthday, which means I get continuous abuse throughout the hour and a bit. I have specifically tried not to have any involvement in the podcast for weeks, having previously emailed in etc. However it seems that Michael and James just can't go on without mentioning me on a regular basis. I know, it must be tough to not refer to me as often as possible. Hee hee hee.
The website is HERE and you can download it from iTunes too.
I rarely get to go to the theatre anymore, due to the life of gigging which renders any fun evening activities into non-happenings. So when I do go, I usually try and be careful about what I see. Theatre can be amazing. It can be properly, knock-you-back-and-make-you-speechless amazing. I'm still in awe of a production called Streets of Crocodiles by Complicite that I saw when I was 17 and more recently a production by the same people called A Disappearing Number which confused me and delighted me all at once. I'm not going to explain why, partly because they were pretty complex plays and it would take several blogs to do a synopsis of either, but also because, and here's the crucial bit, my lack of theatre critic abilities would not do either justice. Just trust me, they was both well wicked. Then on the other hand, when theatre goes bad, it can be excruciating. This has happened to me very rarely, with one notable case being Ralph Fienes in Brand, a Bertold Brecht play that was meant to be performed with some degree of 4th wall removal and the notion that 'it is a play' (that's was Brecht did do or summat like that) but had this been done in any more wooden a fashion I would not have been surprised if a lumberjack had walked on stage and gathered all the cast up for his fire. That was and still is, the only time I've left a play before its finished.
Last night however, I really wanted to repeat that gesture. Now, before I launch into why oh why it was such a sack of tedium, I would like to point out that it was a preview showing so things may change and its probably cheeky to be detrimental so early on. However me and Layla took this into consideration, as did our friends Mat and Hannah, and against the odds, decided we would go anyway as it'd be fun. It was too, starting the night with a Chinese in China Town where the waiters spat more venom as they delivered each course than some sort of dangerous snake, and then during the play when we would childishly make each other giggle with expressions of torment at the on stage goings on. And now, after two paragraphs of waffle, why I thought the play last night was rubbish:
It was two hours of nothing. That is it. Two hours where people talked with words that no one would ever really say, over exaggerated gestures and emotions that didn't exist and you didn't care about. It was a pile of conceited nothing. A play about an actor who is secretly gay but isn't allowed to be because Hollywood won't like it. He has an agent who is lesbian and bolshy, there is the rent-boy he has fallen in love with and a girl that has absolutely no point in being in the show till the last five minutes when the script writer who had obviously been in a real hurry to leave the house that day, had just shoved her in in a quick 'let's tie up all the strands in the way a 7 year old would' way. The cast was made of some very strong actors and they were all very good too and played their roles as best as could be done given the script contained such retarded lines as 'I should change my name to the Netherlands cos I go dark so quick'. If anyone would like to try and explain what that line means I will give you a prize. I can only assume they meant Finland or Scandinavia in terms of daily sunlight during the winter months, but ignorance conquered wit once again.
I didn't connect with any of the characters, often found I just didn't know what everyone was going on about and mostly really didn't give a fuck. It had no deeper meaning, wasn't insightful about anything and seemed to be a play about celebrity culture which had celebrities in the cast without any sense of irony. Yet between two men prancing around their pants a lot, and the agent character making silly shouting noises, the audience loved it. It was a shame as everything about the production was done with a high standard lighting, set, etc, but it was just a terrible script. We all left the play asking ourselves how on earth a play like that could be commissioned for a West End run, and answering ourselves with the knowledge that its the sort of shallow mean-nothing shit that viewers of the X-Factor and readers of Heat will love. Its the sad truth that that dumbed down idiocy has now hit theatre too. Maybe its been there for ages but I haven't been paying attention, and if that's the case, its yet another medium that's being killed off for anyone with any striving for intelligence. I did get an ice-cream in the interval though and that was pretty good.
So if you get a chance to go, don't. Other than that we had a nice drink with my friend who's involved with the show afterwards where we all vented similar thoughts and the rest of my birthday was ace too. I got some great presents and I spent an entire two hours configuring my new sat nav so that the icon that represents my car is now a picture of a banana. I'm not sure how long that will keep me amused for, but I'm reckoning quite a while. At some point I will splash out and get a comedy voice for it too, which will be funny for an even shorter amount of time and eventually I will revert all icons and voices back to default and realise either I am humourless or all the people that create this things are the sort of people who still laugh at 'It'll Be Alright On The Night'. Or at that play.
Rant over. If you don't already, do download the Precious Little (or as I have decided to call it Precocious Spittle) podcast this week. Its a consistently funny podcast anyway - though not anywhere near as funny as Collins and Herring - but this week as they recorded it yesterday, its been dedicated to my birthday, which means I get continuous abuse throughout the hour and a bit. I have specifically tried not to have any involvement in the podcast for weeks, having previously emailed in etc. However it seems that Michael and James just can't go on without mentioning me on a regular basis. I know, it must be tough to not refer to me as often as possible. Hee hee hee.
The website is HERE and you can download it from iTunes too.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Age and Wisdumb
Go shawty, its my birthday, go party like its my birthday etc etc. I am now officially older, and I would like to say that it is properly different being 29 to being 28. Really different. For a start I've grown 3ft taller and now am able to speak in fluent Italian and Spanish, as well as having the ability to shoot flames from my arm. Ok ok, not really and once again I'm let down by my lack of gaining superpowers. One day, one day. Instead what I did get was a not very nice hangover, a scratch on my hand from one of the cats, and a jiggy tummy from the spinach borek I ate last night. I still don't really know what a spinach borek is and I should really learn the lesson not to eat them. The problem is, it still sounds like a creature from LOTR and so I get excited and order one. Hey ho. I also got some snow which was really nice of everyone to chip in and sort that out. It goes very nicely along with all the other snow I got, and now I'm hoping someone just gets me some really icy steps to go right outside our flat so I risk breaking my neck everytime I have to use them. That would make it the bestest birthday ever ever. Oh and I got Schrodinger's Cat. Turns out is in the box!
Yesterday was David Bowie's birthday (although not really as he is from space) and Elvis's birthday (although not any more as he is a big dead face) and Stephen Hawkins birthday too. Today however is my birthday which is better. But also I share my birthday with such famous people as Haddaway who asked 'What Is Love?' and we replied with 'Dunno really', Paolo Nutini who's famous for having all the accents at once and Pope Gregory the XV. Whoop! Hopefully this year will be the awesomest. I thought being 28 was ace, but looking at my list of things I wanted to happen that I put HERE, I've only managed to do one (number 4) and I killed that off yesterday.
Last night was hella awesome though and I'm pleased to have killed off the show. Its officially dead but I feel like I haven't properly killed it till I've set fire to something or buried a bit of it. I'm not sure if this is the correct way to kill a show. If you have any other suggestions, please let me know. Well, however you do it, last night was a good send off before I shoot it in its show face, with a lovely sell out crowd. I only missed one set up which I realised as I delivered the non-sensical callback at the end of the show, but other than that, well done my brain. As a reward for its memory I destroyed bits of it with booze. Good brain. Well done.
Right, I've got some pressies to be tinkering with, some grub to eat and later me and Layla are going to the theatre because that's how we roll. We roll towards theatres and conveniently into the theatre seats and then stop rolling while the show is on and then when it finishes we roll home. That's it for a blog today. Its my birthday so I'll blog if I want to. I did want to, but not much. So now I'll go and do a birthday and here, as my present to you on all your non-Birthdays (if it is your birthday too, you can't read it):
Yesterday was David Bowie's birthday (although not really as he is from space) and Elvis's birthday (although not any more as he is a big dead face) and Stephen Hawkins birthday too. Today however is my birthday which is better. But also I share my birthday with such famous people as Haddaway who asked 'What Is Love?' and we replied with 'Dunno really', Paolo Nutini who's famous for having all the accents at once and Pope Gregory the XV. Whoop! Hopefully this year will be the awesomest. I thought being 28 was ace, but looking at my list of things I wanted to happen that I put HERE, I've only managed to do one (number 4) and I killed that off yesterday.
Last night was hella awesome though and I'm pleased to have killed off the show. Its officially dead but I feel like I haven't properly killed it till I've set fire to something or buried a bit of it. I'm not sure if this is the correct way to kill a show. If you have any other suggestions, please let me know. Well, however you do it, last night was a good send off before I shoot it in its show face, with a lovely sell out crowd. I only missed one set up which I realised as I delivered the non-sensical callback at the end of the show, but other than that, well done my brain. As a reward for its memory I destroyed bits of it with booze. Good brain. Well done.
Right, I've got some pressies to be tinkering with, some grub to eat and later me and Layla are going to the theatre because that's how we roll. We roll towards theatres and conveniently into the theatre seats and then stop rolling while the show is on and then when it finishes we roll home. That's it for a blog today. Its my birthday so I'll blog if I want to. I did want to, but not much. So now I'll go and do a birthday and here, as my present to you on all your non-Birthdays (if it is your birthday too, you can't read it):
Friday, January 8, 2010
Some Of My Favourite Things
Finally I can stop plugging THIS because its tonight and there's little I can do to pull extra crowds in now. Instead today needs to be spent remembering the damn thing. I went through it yesterday and its nearly all there. However certain little gags and bits of wording appear to be lost forever. I'm trying to force them into my brain using repetition. If this doesn't work I will try writing the words on a big bit of paper and hammering it in my ears. At least if that doesn't work I'll get admitted to hospital for severe ear damage and could just not do the show at all. Actually, far from these small words being a problem, its more that certain elements of my show now feel quite outdated. The sections on the G20 riot and the credit crunch were far more relevant to 6 months ago and certain bits about me have changed in that time too. Rather than meticulously go through my show updating it all (which I've done a little bit), I think I will just be doing a sort of forward at the top to explain things. I then might invite everyone to bury the show or send it off down Camden loch and fire burning arrows at it so I can start on next Edinburgh's show pronto.
Anyway, enough of show gripery. As I have work to do and I woke up far later than I expected, so have a small panic about said work, I've decided that it might be nice (and lazy of me) to give you a list of other blogs and things that have made me laugh a lot recently. If you're still snowed off work, or are successfully pretending to be snowed off work, then why not spend some time reading through these gems:
Pictures of Sad Children
This is simply a work of dark genius. Each comic strip has the ability to make me laugh out loud and then feel a little bit ashamed of myself for laughing at such sheer evil. Some of my recent faves have been THIS ONE, THIS ONE and definitely THIS ONE. But I would suggest starting at the top and reading them all.
Jeremy the Annoying Horse
Tom showed me this the other day after we were recovering in the warmth from snow day. Its excellent.
My First Dictionary
I've probably posted this before but its one of my favourites. The posts slowed down a bit over Nov and Dec, but its back up and running properly again. Look at Nov 19th.
That Is Priceless
Yes it is.
Then here are some blogs that I tend to read on a daily or nearly daily basis because they are all ace:
Micheal Legge
Tara Flynn
Thanks For Your Call
Yes that was a lazy blog, but like how in Judo you use other's strength against them, I am using your own reading ability against you. The main difference between this blog and judo is that no one gets hurt and your opponent doesn't have to be wearing clothes with a lapel and long sleeves. When I did judo as a kid I would often listen to the sensei say things like 'then grab their left sleeve and right lapel'. I would then put my hand up and say 'but what if they are wearing a vest or something with no lapel or sleeves?' I would either be ignored or glossed over, and while I can't be sure of it, felt like I was always picked to demonstrate throws on and would duly get chucked across a room. Stupid judo.
I'm going to re-learn my show. You should come along.
Anyway, enough of show gripery. As I have work to do and I woke up far later than I expected, so have a small panic about said work, I've decided that it might be nice (and lazy of me) to give you a list of other blogs and things that have made me laugh a lot recently. If you're still snowed off work, or are successfully pretending to be snowed off work, then why not spend some time reading through these gems:
Pictures of Sad Children
This is simply a work of dark genius. Each comic strip has the ability to make me laugh out loud and then feel a little bit ashamed of myself for laughing at such sheer evil. Some of my recent faves have been THIS ONE, THIS ONE and definitely THIS ONE. But I would suggest starting at the top and reading them all.
Jeremy the Annoying Horse
Tom showed me this the other day after we were recovering in the warmth from snow day. Its excellent.
My First Dictionary
I've probably posted this before but its one of my favourites. The posts slowed down a bit over Nov and Dec, but its back up and running properly again. Look at Nov 19th.
That Is Priceless
Yes it is.
Then here are some blogs that I tend to read on a daily or nearly daily basis because they are all ace:
Micheal Legge
Tara Flynn
Thanks For Your Call
Yes that was a lazy blog, but like how in Judo you use other's strength against them, I am using your own reading ability against you. The main difference between this blog and judo is that no one gets hurt and your opponent doesn't have to be wearing clothes with a lapel and long sleeves. When I did judo as a kid I would often listen to the sensei say things like 'then grab their left sleeve and right lapel'. I would then put my hand up and say 'but what if they are wearing a vest or something with no lapel or sleeves?' I would either be ignored or glossed over, and while I can't be sure of it, felt like I was always picked to demonstrate throws on and would duly get chucked across a room. Stupid judo.
I'm going to re-learn my show. You should come along.
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