|
|
| |
|
|
| |
This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
Age 23, living in sin in Twickenham with Cheesy
Likes
Movies
Books
Writing
Theatre
Hugs
Kittens
Chess
Scrabble (mostly beating Cheesy's butt)
Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Dislikes
Vegetables
Arguments
Cleaning
Trashy TV
Pretensions
Public Transport
Pets
Rabbits-Bambi, Fern, Sooty, Pippa-all deceased
Dog-Sammy-deceased :(
Fish-CatFlap-recently (and finally!) deceased
Cat-Tiggy-still scratching
|
|
|
|
Technically Rachel
|
|
| |
Friday, December 24, 2004
Just a drop in - our internet at home has been arsed up this last week, and now I'm home for Christmas with arse-slow dial up so little blogging here over the Christmas period.
So, in a few words:
MERRY XMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hope you all have a great time!
4:22 pm
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Ack. Don't you just hate it when you dream about doing your job?
7:56 am
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
My time in Northampton draws slowly to a close. This has been my first real location experience (as opposed to being stuck in a Studio office behind my desk all day) and apart from the heart-wrenching home sickness, it's been good fun. It seems the common time filler on location is going out and getting pissed. It's been a great department to work in though. An alcoholic cashier, a DJ cheque man, and a pole-dancing boss (needs to be seen to be believed); an unbelievable level of "Sexy Beast" quotes flying around our office, and more See You Next Tuesdays than I've probably heard in my entire lifetime. Great fun.
However, I am now mostly looking forward to my two weeks off and planning how to spend them. Some quality pooka time first no doubt, then back up to the Land of Lanc for Xmas jollies. Quality time to be spent with family, La Bron, Tall Boy, Princess Sarah, Cheeky Minx, the Aldreed and hopefully the Technically Speaking guys. Some hectic stuff. So much for a peaceful two weeks - heh.
I love Christmas! (which makes for interesting conversations with Mr Scrooge back home - I WILL make him love Christmas!)
7:20 pm
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Last night I dreamed about a kettle.... it's sadly true.
See, there's this kettle we use in our office in Northampton. I managed to knock out the filter last week and hadn't been able to figure out how the blasted thing went back in. I eventually wedged it in, but since it sat well beneath the water line, I reckoned I'd done it wrong. Time went on, and no one else fixed it. And damn it, it bugged me every time I made a cup of tea that it was wrong. Numerous occasions I looked at it again and tried to figure it out. It looked right, but was definitely wrong.
So, being in my subconscious I dreamed about the kettle. More specifically I dreamed about fixing the kettle. The dream came back to me when I was making tea this morning, and I did what I'd done in the dream and bugger me but it fixed it! All it involved was turning the sodding filter upside down, as my dream had told me. I can't decide if this makes me an incredible saddo or technically psychic. I have in the end decided that my subconscious is obviously a lot more intelligent than my conscious self and took pity on it and gave it the answer.
Kitchen - Day 1
Rachel and Conscious Self muse over the kettle and the filter, mindlessly trying to put the two together like a monkey bashing a star into the decahedron hole. Conscious Self scratches it's bit of brain
Conscious Self No, it can't be done. You must have broken a bit of it, just wedge it in... ok, now the lid won't close...
Subconscious Self (Bashing on the cerebral wall) No, no, you fool! Look, look - just turn the bloody thing upside down!
Conscious Self ...wedge it in further. There - that's the lid closed, all done - it'll be fine.
Subconscious Self Look at it properly you muppet - it's not fixed.
Conscious Self Hmmm, it's not really fixed, is it?
Subconscious Self Yes. Well done.
Conscious Self It'll just have to do, won't it. I leave it and let it bug me day after day.
Subconscious Self bashes its head against the cerebral wall in disgust
Kitchen - Day 2
Conscious Self Man, this kettle is annoying now its broken.
Subconscious Self You deserve to be annoyed by it, you muppet. Fix it!
Conscious Self Let me fiddle with it again.
Conscious Self proceeds to take out the filter, look at it quizzically and put it in exactly as before but with extra fervour, as if that will make it work this time
Conscious Self Shrug.
Subconscious Self AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!
Kitchen - Day 3
The scene repeats as before. Subconscious Self learns some new swear words
Kitchen - Day 4
The scene repeats as before. Subconscious Self weeps quietly in a corner, muttering darkly about brain surgery
Scroat House Hotel - Day 5
Conscious Self is happily snoozing away in Rachel's brain. Subconscious Self cannot take the frustration and weaves a simply non-plot dream to bore Rachel with. In it is shown exactly how to fix the kettle in simple step by step instructions
Subconscious Self Look! See! It's easy. Fix it - I can't take this anymore.
The dream is instructed to play 10 times over so Rachel doesn't sodding forget it. The trigger for the memory is of course a kettle.
Kitchen - Day 5
Rachel and Conscious Self are making a cup of tea
Rachel (To Conscious Self) You know, I had a dream last night how to fix this kettle. I wonder if it works...
Conscious Self Hmmm, no not sure that will work. You remember what happened last time you listened to your dreams. You thought you'd snogged one of your classmates and avoided him the rest of the day.
Rachel Yeah, that was pretty silly.
Subconscious Self (Frothing at the mouth) Listen to her you bastard! She has the answer!!
Conscious Self Still, in this instance I suppose it wouldn't hurt.
Rachel and Conscious Self lift out the filter, turn it upside down and put it in - it fits perfectly, just like in the dream
Conscious Self Wow. I'm psychic!
Subconscious Self stomps off as far as the brain will allow and sulks, moans about being inconsequential, ignored, and develops an insecurity complex about whether anyone likes them and decides to move out
THE END
6:26 pm
Sunday, December 05, 2004
After a seemingly fleeting trip back to London I am now back to the drudgery of hard labour in Northampton. To be fair the workplace is far from inhospitable - this is a really great crew and I'm enjoying working on this film a lot. So good things happen in my work life now and again. Balancing off the shit that was Pride & Prejudice.
Got Mac all fixed up finally - cracking job done on him too. Good to know I now have a guy I can go to should I decide to wrap Mac around another frickin pillar. Sigh - they're ganging up on me, I swear!
My two days off involved much friskiness and some Christmas shopping (note: Christmas shopping = wandering around crammed central london for hours, browse a lot, and only come away with one purchase which was Cheesy's own Xmas present of a mobile phone - not very productive). Also went to watch Beyond The Sea, so me and Cheesy got to watch out "His N Her" credits - how lame are we? Anyway, movie was definitely interesting and well put together and stuff - main critisism is that is really could've done with some more stringent editing, Mr Spacey was a little too self-indulgent with it. Still, he's very good in it.
Other than that I'm generally just a bit grumpy at having to work on a Sunday. And next Sunday. But Christmas is coming - and i still haven't sodding bought anything. Sigh.
4:21 pm
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Blogger's gone and all changed again - I'll adjust, I'm sure.
Slowest day in the world.... Sigh.
Anyway, I figure it's about time I set up a link to Fluffy's site since I keep loitering over there. A fabulous lady who is lucky enough to be having some fun on the Kitchen Table.
In celebration of this new link I shall participate in a challenging meme from this site, which was to pick five images that your best stalker would use to represent you. Ta daaaa! *waves mystic wand and prays that imaging html works first time*
Try it! It's fun!
Also, rejoice in that fact that Porny Curtis is back among the blogging community!
1:56 pm
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Killing some time before I get back to my lovely impersonal corporate hotel room. While on the one hand it's quite nice having everything cleaned up after you every day, simultaneously it's a bit weird. You never quite get settled - I'm happy in my own messy area - it's mine. (Does this, I wonder, make me something of a pig?)
Anyway - two weeks gone, and the closer I get to getting home to Cheesy for a couple of days the harder the time apart is. Weird once more. Not liking the seperation stuff much. We used to do this all the time when he was still living in Manchester and I was down in London - it was tough not seeing eachother for weeks at a time, but this seems harder. You'd think that living together would make us sick of eachother and longing for private time, but the effect is the opposite. Piny gross people.
Anyway, much prep time tonight - it's been toooooo long. Grrr.
Everyone's coming down with stomach flu at the moment at work. Eep. If I get it at the weekend I will be super grumpy.
Anyway - hometime!
7:30 pm
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Welcome To My Morning of Feeling Crap
Because I was woken up last night at approximately arse-o-clock in the morning by a fire alarm. Some daft bimbo was smoking in her non-smoking room and set the alarm off, causing hundreds of people to file grumpily outside in various states of undress to face the cold night. At least it wasn't sodding raining. To top it off, in the sleep numbed hurry of getting out of my room I left my dumb-ass room key and promptly locked myself out. The farce accelerated when the hotel staff started doing a name call. Hundreds of people pissed off, and they want to know us all by name?! Thankfully they eventually gave up, since it was clear there was no actual fire and anyone not there had either wandered off in delerium or was pissed (and lucky) enough to sleep through it.
Anyway, finally got back to my room, heart still pounding from the intial arse-shaker that was the alarm, taking some time to try and wind back down so I could get back to sleep. But my mind was in "one of those" states - you know, the I'm-really-tired-my-eyes-are-glued-shut-but-my-mind-is-being-the-bastard-that-
won't-shut-up-and-WHAT-THE-HELL-IS-THAT-DRIPPING-NOISE?!!!!!
Really - a dripping noise that started as soon as I was drifting off to sleep. After ransacking the entire room, I realised that it must be the radiator pipes... next door. Arse all I could do about it. Drip.... Drip..Drip..........Drip....Drip. And my mind wouldn't let it go. So lay awake for another hour until the bloody noise stopped.
Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. I'll be doing that tonight. Unless some other dunce sets off the alarm.
8:37 am
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Okay so some internet access - my email accounts don't seem to work here, but with the help of Cheesy I've managed to forward my yahoo stuff to gmail, so keep sending there those of you who are of the emailing ilk.
Going good so far - hotel is livable, but the lights buzz, which is liable to piss me off in my quieter moments. But am actually getting to know some people on this one, so that's a good thing (if meeting people can be considered to be such).
Now if I can just get in the writing mode, that'll be even better. Heh. Can't see it being tremendously likely this week!
Anyway, hope all is well with everyone in the blog world - at least be glad you're not blogging in northampton - peterborough's armpit.
8:24 am
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Well, I'm off to Northampton for a month tomorrow! Got a stinking cold which isn't making packing very productive, but I'm persevering. Cheesy has been looking after me, which only brings it home harder that I have to fend for myself from tomorrow. Uck.
Anyway, don't be surprised if I'm mostly incommunicado for a bit - I don't have internet access at the office at the mo, and I'll be in a rinky dink hotel with no internet account, so I'll be doing little emailing - I will try to drop in updates where I can though.
Where the hell I'm gonna fit in Christmas shopping now I dunno!
6:48 pm
Friday, November 12, 2004
After nasty blogger has destroyed my political rant, I can only assume the fates do not wish it to be released into the public domain. That and I'm too lazy to retype it. Let it just be known the result was not what I hoped for. There was also a razor sharp analysis of morals (As the Bush is supposed to have it seems), and the fact that he has none that matter, Bush only represents the bigoted side of Christianity, and few of its nice bits. As once said by Brendon Burns, the message of most religions is "Try not to be too much of a c**t today" (sorry Momo/Popo), something it seems Bush is not familiar with, since he;s pretty much one every day.
*Copies what has already written in bitter paranoia*
Anyway, me stuff.
Been enjoying my lady-of-leisure time. Good old rewrite of Switch which I'm pleased with. Just need to decide what to start work on next.
Me and Bron took a last minute trip to Brighton on Wednesday. Turns out Rare Breed were performing Waking again at the Marlborough Theatre. Absolutely gorgeous little venue - I wish we had places like that on the London fringe. The show worked much better in the smaller more claustrophic space - as fab as Bedlam Theatre is, it was just too big. Lucie and Tim have come along as well, and there were some nice little changes here and there that worked very well. Bron and I also frolicked on a pebble beach and paid a visit to Brighton Pier. Bron descended at one point into agonising tooth pain, but a suitable level of drugs eventually fixed that. Met more of the Rare Breed crowd - really great bunch of people. I'll have some pics from Waking soon, so I'll post them up when I get them.
Also got myself another job. Going to be a cashier on a film called Kinky Boots. It's a nice short project, only 2 months really, but I do have to spend the first month up until Christmas in Northampton. Never been before, so any advice/warning on the place would be welcomed. Eep.
Looking forward to watching the Incredibles when it's out, and this other movie's trailer has got me all giddy. Roll on December!
10:15 am
*sits in rage and fury as blogger destroys extremely eloquent political discussion about shit-head Bush's re-election*
10:14 am
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Went to the Cast & Crew Screening of Bridget Jones:The Edge of Reason on Sunday - woohoo, the movie is very good. Especially cause it's got my name on the end - I demand you all go watch it and then dutifully watch the credits for my name under "Accounts Assistant" - eeeeeeee. Most exciting. Renee herself also showed up and gave a sweet speech thanking the crew - not that I ever met her, but I'm sure Colin must have mentioned the fascinating Accounts Boffin he met ;)
Me and Cheesy are considering watching the election tonight. Tense stuff really - I almost wish I could have a party over people over, so we could all either party hard if Kerry was elected, or communally mourn our inevitable world destruction if Bush is. Let's face it - if he is elected, we have cause to be tense the next four years - everyone does. Uck. I hate politics. I wish they were nicer.
Life is calm with me at the moment as I sit around and do nothing. Bad behaviour really - I promise to be more productive tomorrow.
11:05 am
Saturday, October 30, 2004
FREEEEEEEEDOM!!!!!
Most strange. Hasn't sunk in yet that I'm free of the hell pit. Nor have I figured out how best to use all my sudden free time, without simultaneously panicking about being unemployed. I can safely stay income free for a month (although that means pretty shitty xmas presents guys). But still - my over sensible brain likes to be secure and responsible with a healthy income, so it will be difficult to get it away from that kind of thinking.
Thinking of partaking in Nanowrimo, but writing a play instead of a novel. I'm sure it doesn't count, but there's nothing wrong with aiming for the same thing as novel writers - why not, says I. We shall see.
My life also just generally needs sorting out. The flat needs cleaning and sorting from top to bottom, and I seriously need some new clothes. And a hair cut. And a trip to the dentist. And my physio. And probably my Nutrionist - which I'm dreading cause I know I'm going to be horribly shamed when I have to admit the extent to which I have NOT been following his diet. My Crohn's isn't bad at the mo, but it's hardly great either - and I'm sure I'm not doing it any good.
That being said, now that I don't have to hastily snarfle chips and mars bars to drag myself through my torturous work day, I should be able to improve. Must try yoga - the lazy exercise. It's better than the current zero level of exercise I partake in. I'm turning into a lump with terrible stamina.
Must also go home and to Manchester - I think I'll do my Xmas shopping in Manchester this year - it's so much more interesting than shopping in London. Though I think I should return to the market I visited with Huggy Boobs earlier this year.
On a final note - I am shocked and appalled at the high rate of blog casualties. Porny Curtis disappeared months ago, and still has yet to return, and recent events saw the resignation of the hilariously amusing Kitchen Table. What makes me regret the passing of this blog is not just the amusement factor, but the fact that I was able to keep up with what the guy was up to. I've never known Mr Table especially well, but have always enjoyed his company and have always been interested in knowing what he's up to. Since I don't live in Manchester anymore, when I next see him I won't have a clue how his life as been. Perhaps that's how life should be, but I have appreciated the usefullness of blogger in this respect. I can keep tabs on my mates, see what they're up to, and still feel a little part of their lives. Which is nice. But hey, that's life - so the people say.
1:06 pm
Saturday, October 09, 2004
I think what's bothered me over the last few weeks regarding this blog, is I've had nothing to blog about. NOTHING. My job still sucks (though thankfully should be over in another two/three weeks), and leaves me so busy that I don't have time to do anything else. I'm not writing, which pisses me off, cause I want to write so badly - I have so many sodding ideas at the moment, but picking up a pen seems impossible right now, and I don't know why. Probably extreme tiredness has something to do with it. I'm also home alone and lonely, which never helps. Cheesy is travelling about with the show, which is great for him, but does leave me home alone to contend with spiders and a big paranoid imagination about chain-saw murderers!
Sigh. Self pity is a terrible debilitating thing. Must stop now.
Watched the film "Forces of Nature" and it left me quite interested. Terrible casting choices, but a really interesting story. Typical setup - guy a few days before his wedding day, (Ben Affleck with his one facial expression) getting lots of signs that getting married isn't a good idea - even though his girlfriend is adorable and totally in love with him (played by ER's Abi - the only good piece of main character casting). So doubts start. A series of events put him of his course to his wedding day and constantly collide him with the other girl of the movie (Sandra Bullock - good, but still quite wrong for the part), who's wild and fiesty and everything about life that he's not. So of course he starts to fall for her, and alone at home his fiancee starts to be charmed by an old boyfriend. All typically convenient for the usual romantic comedy, yes? What however immediately is odd, is that Affleck's fiancee is too damn likeable. Very odd. She's gorgeous, sweet and perfect for him - not the usual setup in these things, where the characters current partner is either an arsehole or blatantly not right for them. And she turns down the ex boyfriend and sits waiting faithly and surely for her man to get to the wedding and marry her. These leaves you unsettled for a while when it becomes clear Affleck is gonna choose Bullock over his wife. What happens however, is he sees his fiancee again and suddenly he's in love with her all over again. He doesn't leave her for Bullock, they become stronger because of her - and Bullock's all fine with this too (there's some subplot about her kid, and she's all happily ever after with him). But it was interesting - you see so many romantic comedies where people are trundling along life with one partner and someone better and more brilliant comes along. Not a great message really. This movie just kind of showed that you can be happy with what you have already - you may indeed fancy another person, but you shouldn't forget what you have in the first place. It was also quite beautifully filmed in places. Odd odd film. I've talked a lot about it too. Weird. Wish it had had a better cast. Stupid Forehead Affleck and his acting teeth.
I think I'm gonna go shopping. I need some new boots. And a coat.
Dammit if I don't do some theatre soon I think I'm gonna go crazy.
1:47 pm
Monday, September 27, 2004
LOOKIT! My first online credit!
4:27 pm
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Settling into Stamford a bit better now. Brief trip back home on Saturday to fill up on babba-time helped, although has left me slightly pining and melancholy, but it's only returning to the hotel at night when you feel it most. Daytime is just too busy to think about anything remotely to do with yourself. Getting to see more filming while we're with the crew, which is certainly nice. Leaves me pining for the acting life though - weirdly. Seriously, I walk away just pining for it and wishing that at some stage of my life I had chosen to take things a different way. But then I'd probably be broke and unemployed - who knows, eh?
More reviews for Waking knocking about the internet. First up is a review from Culture Wars. The reviewer here is frequently harsh and critical, and certainly no exceptions here. He's also fair though, and not blindly critical. The fact he's found some good things to say about the play leaves me feeling happy anyway.
My happy happy joy joy review comes from The Stage. They got my name right! My name in print at last! ;)
7:21 am
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Peterborough - City of Hell
Seriously - this place sucks the big one. People bitch about Birmingham - this is the cesspit of middle england. Firstly - the roads. Signs? Obviously the backward people who run and organise this place haven't heard of them. What they have heard of are one way systems - in the extreme. Some arsehole on the council obviously had a sense of humour. So despite following the map, their shoddy non-sensical one way system (truly it had NO logic to it) had me driving around Peterborough until bitch-o-clock in the evening trying to find the sodding hotel. Who;s car park by the way is nowhere near the actual entrance to the hotel. After driving for three hours and being beeped at aggressively by three different scum-hole drivers who couldn't cope with driving 30miles an hour through a town centre, I finally arrived to a very full car park. Went to the end, and in my tired state couldn't see that actually where I was trying to park was a very narrow place (the hotel clearly doesn't approve of parking), and managed yet again to damage my car on ANOTHER SODDING PILLAR. I swear there's a conspiracy. It's not as bad as last time, but it's still pretty badly scratched up - I shouldn't have to claim tho. So, tearful and tired, I went to bed. Woke up in the morning feeling a little better, even though the morning was a bit wet. Got in the car, put my wipers on to get rid of the condensation.... only the rear window seemed impervious to the request. Cause some little chav fuckers had ripped off my back wiper. And left it on the floor. Little sods didn't even bother to steal it. Apparently they are regular visitors to the car park, routinely removing wipers and license plates. Nice. Thankfully I move today, so my car should face no more abuse. (Unless subjected to another pillar).
Now The Good News
My mini holiday up to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival was utterly fantastico. Weekend of pure fun. The flat we were in was soooo gorgeous, sat right on the Royal Mile with some of the most amazing views. I cannot describe the amazing feeling I got waking in the morning, sunlight streaming in to the window, and being able to lean out of the window and look down on the Royal Mile in the sunshine. Priceless, truly. Also got to spend some most valuable time with La Spice, ockenspiel, Goulden Moments, Gregorian and indeed also MR Cheesy (not that he's ever far away). Much fun, despite the disgraceful bailing-out behaviour of Mishka and Huggy Boobs. They truly missed out on some fab time. Old haunts Jekyll & Hyde, The Frankenstein, Espionage, and the ever breath taking Arthur's Seat were visited. Even the Italien restaurant in New Town - I went there when Momo, Popo & Fat Arse made an appearance, which was the place they took me and Cheesy when they met him for the first time 3 years ago.
And of course, there was the play. My play, Waking. As ever, very weird to see my work put on, and always very surreal when you hear people enjoying it. Rare Breed did a cracking job, and I look forward to seeing how they develop it further when they do Brighton and London later this year. The writing has also been consistently getting good reviews. The Scotsman one is ace, apart from the fact they got the name of the writer wrong! Tsk. So unreliable.
Despite the limited time there, I did manage to catch some other stuff whilst at the festival.
Me, Cheesy and Goulden went to the cinema for a section called Past the Post, which was a bunch of UK Film Council shorts (one of which written & directed by a lovely lady I know) - they were all truly brilliant and lovely films - I really want to find out if there's a DVD or something for them, cause I'd love to see them again.
Also we went to see Brendon Burns, who I saw last year. He was brilliant then, but this new piece was something rather more than that. Almost a little more theatrical than the average stand-up, it was a fascinating insight into the mind of stand-up comedian personas. Very different compared to the standard standup shows, and I left hugely relieved that I'd made the effort to go see him.
Our theatrical drama input came from a production of "Galileo", which was based on an unmade screenplay by Tom Stoppard - immediate interest. The script is indeed very good, clever and intelligent, and made the physics of the day understandable to even science-retarded people like me. The acting from the principle characters was also very good and convincing, although unfortunately, all the female actresses consistentley sucked. Shocking really considering how good everyone else was. Perhaps a male director? Who can say. Also, whilst interesting, the original screenplay does not adapt kindly to the stage - something that could have been fixed with some good script editing, or at least some creative direction - the constant "to black"s were tedious and mentally lengthened the play by a great deal. Still, good effort.
That's all for me to say for the moment - I really hated leaving. I have no doubt I'll be back there next year.
11:03 am
Monday, August 23, 2004
Sorry folks - it's been a hectic time. Work has been crazy and stressful, leaving me drained and exhausted. It's not been the best job I've ever had, let's just say that. But the bad is being fought valiantly by the over whelming good going on at the moment.
At the weekend I finally got to see what I'd been waiting for for probably the last six months - Technically Speaking, performed at the place I practically grew up in: Chorley Little Theatre:
And it was an AMAZING production. Bron and the cast did an amazing job. The film was also brilliant that they made to go with it - if I can ever figure out a way to get it online, I most certainly will do.
 
It was really great to watch with my low level of involvement in the rehearsal process. When we did the show in Manchester, I lived and breathed the play, and by the end found it hard to tell what was working - only the audience's reaction guided me, but I couldn't tell whether I actually enjoyed the play myself. This time however was different. I blushed the entire way through it, but I also laughed. ALOT. It's weird to laugh at your own jokes, but then you have different people saying them a different way, and suddenly they're funnier.
 
What's surprised me most is how the older members of CADOS enjoyed it - the play is full of bad language and naughty sex stuff, which would all be bad enough without the girl on girl snog right in the middle - not a single complaint. Quite amazing for Chorley. Apparently the reviewer there had some critisisms about the script - which is more than fair enough. Technically Speaking is funny, but it is a shallow play. Saying that, these guys gave it more depth than I ever knew it had. The last scene literally made my chest ache - weird stuff. But then again, I've always described it as a frivolous comedy - it never pretends to be anything but. So if the critisms are: "too frivolous", well, that's just fine. Let's just hope it sticks to that.
Also in the work - Waking opened at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival today - eep. This one's scaring me a bit more. The Fringe crowd are A LOT more critical than most, and I can only hope the play isn't trashed. Am immensely looking forward to being in Edinburgh again, but there's no way to predict the fringe reaction to any play really. We'll have to see. Keep your fingers crossed for me! And if there's anyone else out there who isn't already coming to Edinburgh but who fancies sleeping on our floor - drop me an email!
8:47 pm
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Hmm, not posted for a bit. Plenty of stuff going on but just not had major inclination to write about it. Got sunburned in Swanage last weekend after a jolly good weekend by the seaside with Cheesy and his family. Still sore - so boooooooooo. Still trying to organise my rehearsal with the guys this weekend - getting a bit frustrating, but I'm sure it will be sorted. Probably gonna have to do Sunday now though, which is going to be a major pain, but well, tis life.
Um... what was the name of the bad toad in supermouse? I can't remember. (There is a point, I promise you).
7:14 am
Friday, July 16, 2004
Last weekend saw a long overdue reunion with Huggy Boobs - this entailed much shopping fun at Spitalfields Market (a new experience for me). I am saving ALL my money and going back there. Was lovely to see her though, and she is just as huggable as ever. Most over-joyed to know that Huggy Boobs will also be making the trip up for both Technically Speaking and the Edinburgh trip. Much fun to come.
Which reminds me, it's about time I put the links up - I've been pondering this option for a while, as it completely eliminates by anonymity. Still, most people do know who I am so I should as they say "Get Over It".
So, you wanna know more info about Technically Speaking - here's the blogsite with all the links on it. Have a rummage. And if you're in the chorley area, come and watch damn you.
Next link is pretty informationless, but it at least lets you book tickets (should you so wish ;)). So here's the one for Waking. Again, if you're in the Edinburgh area - see it damn you!
That is all for today
7:46 am
Friday, July 09, 2004
Some people get reprimanded by their employers, or their school, or even their partners, for certain stories revealed on one's blog. I, however, get reprimanded by my sister. Fat Ass was not amused by previously posted stories about our history together. I forget how vastly our sense of humour differs, and stories that I now find funny and posted for amusement have left her hurt and preparing for the biggest Fat Ass silence to date in order to demonstrate how vastly pissed at me she is. Since apologies are so far getting me nowhere, I need alternative solutions.
So - the remedy.
First - a poll from those of you in the blogging community. Please comment on your own instances where you have told stories of siblings (or those of a similar level of closeness) on your blog that put them in a less than favourable light for the sake of you and your readers' amusement. Greg - you know I'm talking to you.
Secondly - I shall dedicate this post the wonderfullness that is the Fat Ass. See below for her likeness:
It's true - it's her!
Now then - I believe it is only fair that since I've have told stories about her being an annoying sister, I should do the same for myself.
So - many many years ago (and this is a story I've been reminded of repeatedly until maybe a few years ago), when I was maybe seven or eight, I was playing with my cousin. Fat Ass (with a much smaller ass at the tender age of 14) was in the next room with her then boyfriend. At some point (purely for the purpose of annoyance) we burst in giggling to see the pair of them smooching. Being 8, we found this absolutely hysterical, and ran away with her yelling at us. Theoretically, end of story. Not so.
A week or so later, Easter was upon us, and as per tradition we embarked to my Granny's for Easter lunch. Now, this is my Dad's side of the family, who are excessively church going and extremely moralistic. Fun, I hear you cry. To be fair, when you're 8, everythings fun - and this occasion I had the most fun ever. At someone else expense of course. Three guesses who.
Now - I don't know how it even started - I was young and it was long ago, so all the details are not totally clear. But somehow, the conversation at the dinner table came around to my sister and her boyfriend. To which I piped up loudly that I had seen them snogging. Lots of laughter. Being the attention seeking entertainer I was back then (okay, and am still), laughter was like a drug, and suddenly having everyone's attention and humour kept me going. Being 8 of course, I had yet to learn to distinguish between amused laughter, and embarrassed laughter. So on I went - how I'd walked in on them kissing in a room which had had the door closed, that he was lying on top of her, and on and on... I was a naive child, so admittedly (and Fat Ass still doesn't believe me on this one) I was not aware how much sexual undertone there was to my descriptions. I was also unaware that her laughter and that of my parents was very much not amused. In the car on the way home I got the biggest bollocking of my love thus far, and Fat Ass I think to this day has never forgiven me for it.
I might also point out that through my younger years and her teenage years I have repeatedly told her boyfriends embarassing stories about her. In fact, scrap that, to this day I have told her boyfriends embarrassing stories (as Billy Zane will attest).
Look at Fat Ass and her fella - aren't they cute!
 
I have also numerous times in my teens stolen her makeup, clothes or toiletries, and while she was in Australia until recently I nicked her sparkly black top and wore it many many times. I use the time old excuse for this in that I admire her so, I must nick all her stuff!
Have I compensated enough you reckon?
A Message for My Sister
12:32 pm
Saturday, June 26, 2004
So... had a Gastroscopy the other day. About as pleasant as one might imagine. Although I did get to experience the joys of sedation, which made me pleasantly unconscious until the last few minutes when I started retching on the sodding tube. That was pleasant, I can tell you. Still, at least finally after seven years of complaining about my stomach they finally decided to take a look inside. Predictably, I have Gastritis - though what the cause of that is I shall have to wait till the tests get back. It's a times like this I wish that genetic cloning would hurry up and get sorted so that someone could grow me a new digestive system. One which I won't spend a childhood poisoning with Coca Cola and additives.
Also of late been listening quite intentley to the new Broadway musical Wicked. And to my surprise I actually really like it. This is a weird conflict for me. The musical is based on the novel of the same name by Gregory Maguire, and basically is the life and times of The Wicked Witch of the West (as in Dorothy's victim so she can get home from Oz). The book is brilliant, I cannot recommend it enough to anyone and everyone, whether you love the Wizard of Oz, or have never seen a reel of it, this book is truly fantastic to read. It is dark and political, and by no means a cheery affair, especially since the title character is doomed to only one ending. The musical is, of course, none of this. From what I can tell, they have stripped the story of it's human complexities, political environment and dark disposition, and transformed it into a skeleton of a story, focussing mainly on the relationship between Elphaba (the "Wicked Witch") and Galinda (the Good Witch of the North) in the school days. And is also totally cheesified (and not in the monger's way). In other words - American.
In all logic, I should loath this production with all my heart and hope it dies a well deserved death. Instead, I have found myself utterly charmed by it. A very strange state of affairs. The story elements they have used are funny and interesting, and although no where near as complex as the novel, it does still capture the main crux of things - it's not who you are in life, but how people view you - for that is how you are remembered.
And in the end, this musical will at least achieve one truly good thing - it will cause a whole load more people to pick up the novel and read it, and experience something far superior.
For me this conflict is akin to The Phantom of the Opera. The situation was somewhat different, since I actually saw the musical first when I was a lot younger. I worshipped that show then. Now I'm older I am somewhat more subdued towards it - certainly from a music point of view. But I was obsessed with the story and the darkness on it. My love for that musical caused me to read the original masterpiece by Gaston Leroux, and also the later novel "Phantom" by Susan Kay (another brilliant book). The musical strips away a lot of the rich darkness and realism of the events and turns most of it into drippy nonsense. By trying to imitate the voice and work of the Phantom they immediately create a ridiculous production - the whole point is that no one can create music or make it sound like him, so when Andrew Lloyd Webber's typical mainstream musical meoldies come pouring out, it's almost a mockery. The two are so far apart - but I do love them both.
Wicked I think will work in the same way. I'm sure I will see the musical when it comes to England, and no doubt adore it - but the original book will remain proudly on my shelf, to escape into when the crassness of the musical wears thin. The book never will.
I would like to finish this long thought by proclaiming that musicals actually really aren't my thing. Except there are those cursed few that I still love and can watch or listen to again and again. Little Shop of Horrors I love to pieces, and can actually listen to the soundtrack purely for entertainment. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers forever remains one of the most endearing pieces of fluff I've ever seen. Anything with Marilyn Monroe in it is made fantastic by her mere singing prescense (the same goes for Audrey Hepburn), and two Disney movies affect me even today - Aladdin, and The Little Mermaid. Here endeth my shame.
9:22 pm
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Sigh. I do hate confirming the stereotype that women are shit drivers. Sorry girls.
In my defence, I had just been in the office for twelve hours, putting up with the patronising one, and was very keen to get home. Alas, I didn't even get out of the parking lot. I'd parked in a different space to normal. I normally part between two cars on the second level, but on Friday I instead parked on the bottom level of the car park - next to a pillar. I normally don't park next to pillars. Now I know where that instinct comes from.
Pulling out of the space, I swung my car to the left, completely forgetting the pillar to the right rear of my car. Poor Mac's front wing went crashing into the pillar. And was well and truly hammered. What was worse was that the panel had bent in, wedging my front wheel out to the right. Which meant the RAC had to come out and rescue me, cause of course I couldn't drive it. Those in the knowledge ended up being the smug "yeah, women really can't drive can they" security guy at the gate, and embarassingly, one of the girls from production, who was really sweet, but god it's embarassing sharing your problems, esepcially when you're crying like a big girl's blouse. See, I cry when I get really angry (this personal quality is an EXTREME liability in trying to get people to take me seriously)- and for a whole hour at least, I was raging furious with myself. Hence, many very cross tears.
Since the only real damage seemed to be the front panel, I was hoping I could just pay the repair costs myself and not have to put it through insurance. Oh ho - so wrong. Toyota = £700 just for labour! And they wanted to replace the door as well (which is badly scratched, but otherwise fine), and what with the metallic paint (swell), it was looking to be well over a grand for one frickin dent! I mean, jesus! Things looked better at some of the local garages - who only needed to replace the panel, and charged nearly £450 less for labour, but as Popo pointed out, going to another garage could put my warranty under risk. Ishk. So I am being helf hostage by the Toyota garage, and cannot afford to do anything but go through insurance. 6 years of no claims down the toilet. At least I'll be 25 in 9 months.
5:46 pm
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Sorry - busy week.
Last weekend was filming in Manchester with La Bron for Technically Speaking. Baldy made a cameo on the Saturday - the 2 1/2 hours on the train with him revealed that old Kirsten Imrie (of ex page 3 fame?!?!) is still causing him bother. Try to be more sensible than him - if she ever asks you out, say NO - regardless of the fact she used to get her tits out.
La Spice filmed with us on Sunday (as a happy happy housemate - most amusing). Gregorian and Rockenspiel also tagged a long for the fun, and I was later introduced to 'Spiel's new mini and his terrifying accelerator pedal - fast travel in what vaguely resembles a tin can as far as safety goes is a little scary - not that I should complain since he very kindly gave me a lift to the station and was directed VERY badly by me. And Holly. AND Greg. Mind you, none of us have ever driven in Manchester, and the signs are bloody worse there than they are even in London. Shame on Manchester.
So... new job. Liking it so far. Am annoyed that I got a call from the accountant on Fingersmith on Tuesday - I REALLLY wanted to do that job but didn't hear anything back so took P&P. Grr. Ah well - a job's a job, as someone no doubt says. Like me.
Am also feeling really hard done by as to my salary, which seems to be as low as it is purely on the basis of some shocking nepatism. The accountant's partner (as in home, not business) has been hired at a salary of £300 per week more than me. Now, I have a low experience level, only two films, so my lower salary is fair enough. This guy has worked 4 days on a film. 2 years ago. The other accountant has spent ages training him up, and he seems lovely, and I'm sure he'll pick it all up - but it just means my wage takes the piss. Our workload is the same. The only thing that affects your salary is your experience - or obviously, whether or not you're shagging the boss. Sigh. Not impressed AT ALL with that.
Other than that though things are cool there. A girl who I used to work with at Working Title is there, and she's great, so it's good to have a familiar face about. And thus far most of the crew seem really nice, with the exception of a sour face in production, and a patronising hefalump. So... the usual fun of the workplace. Joy.
6:44 pm
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
In celebration of my new shameful addiction to Big Brother (yes, I know it's shit, and stupid, and boring, but I get home late and I can't be arsed to think, so it's perfect viewing - alright!), I have done the Big Brother game, using names of those in our blog world - the results are most amusing, if not scarily apt at times. Courtesy of dc8p:
Big Brother!
Day 1 - Cheesemonger admits straight away that he doesn't like the look of Small Yappa Dog. He says she looks like a lesbian. As it turns out, Brontone is in fact the only lesbian in the house, although Rockenspiel later admits that he is unsure of his true sexuality.
2 - The house sit down for a discussion of how to organise simple chores. Tall Boy creates tension by stating that the kitchen is where the women belong. Random Creature hits him with a Spork.
3 - The housemates are set their first task by Big Brother - they must make a model of Big Ben out of Asparagus. After much persuasion by Tall Boy, they gamble 50% of next week's food budget on completing the task.
4 - Training for the Big Ben task is well under way. However havoc ensues when Rockenspiel, who is rapidly developing a reputation as the laziest fat bastard in the house, eats half the Asparagus. Random Creature is furious.
5 - Today is the day when the Big Ben task must be completed. Things are going well until shortly before the end when Rockenspiel farts and blows Big Ben over. Big Brother announces that the task has been a failure. Small Yappa Dog cries.
6 - Tall Boy gets pecked on the arm by one of the Big Brother chickens. Not a very exciting day.
7 - Big Brother is worried that things are getting dull, so he summons the housemates to have a mass debate about sex. After far too many cans of cider, Small Yappa Dog admits that she likes to be spanked on the arse with a Spork. Cheesemonger says he never wears condoms because they make his Scrotum sore and Tall Boy agrees. Brontone goes into a rant about how none of the other housemates have ever enjoyed a true orgasm because they're all boring heterosexual bastards. Rockenspiel sits in the corner, quietly eyeing up Tall Boy.
8 - Today is the first day that the housemates must nominate someone to leave. Cheesemonger goes round everyone one by one, telling them he really likes them because they're the only one in the house that he can really relate to. Random Creature and Small Yappa Dog are voted as the two candidates to leave. Nobody votes for Cheesemonger.
9 - Random Creature and Small Yappa Dog are told of their nominations and burst into tears, before hugging everyone and telling them they love them. Brontone sings them a song - Cheeky Girls Song - to make them feel better.
10 - The public vote Small Yappa Dog out of the house. She pretends not to be bothered but then breaks down and sobs that she should never have admitted about enjoying being spanked. Small Yappa Dog leaves.
11 - Relationships are strained in the house as the housemates come to terms with Small Yappa Dog's departure. The food budget is low due to the failure of last week's failed task. Brontone has to make do without the cucumber she requested. Random Creature is visibly depressed and is comforted by Tall Boy, who tries to touch her on her Nipple.
12 - The Big Brother pyschologist replays the footage of Tall Boy touching Random Creature's Nipple over and over again. This is because it shows an interesting psychological incident, of course, not because it will increase the viewing figures. Big Brother sets the housemates the task of jogging on a running machine for twice the circumferance of the globe. They gamble 40% of the food budget on completing it.
13 - The running machine task is on target, despite the fact that Rockenspiel refuses to run because his Scrotum hurts a bit.
14 - Much jubilation in the house as the running machine task is completed. Rockenspiel finally manages to run the last 10 metres of the task and claims that without him they'd never have done it. Random Creature calls Rockenspiel a lazy Scrotum.
15 - Once again it is the day when nominations are due. Cheesemonger tells everyone individually that he thinks Random Creature is a whore. He also points out that anyone who wants to stay at his flat when the show is finished is welcome to come and visit. Random Creature and Tall Boy are nominated by the housemates to leave. Nobody votes for Cheesemonger.
16 - The nominations are announced. Random Creature can't believe she's been voted out two weeks in a row. Tall Boy is equally stunned and turns to Random Creature for comfort. Rockenspiel is distraught and confesses to Brontone that he thinks he is in love with Tall Boy. Brontone says she doesn't fancy any of the housemates because they're all just too heterosexual and she's a lesbian, you know
17 - The public vote Tall Boy out of the house. Random Creature says she is gutted and even gives Tall Boy a clipping of hair from her Nipple to prove how much she cares. Rockenspiel is also devastated but keeps his hair to himself. Tall Boy leaves.
18 - The Big Brother psychologist shows repeated clips of Random Creature clipping the hair from her Nipple. Apparently this is an important psychological incident. The public obviously agree as viewing figures soar.
19 - Big Brother sets the housemates the task of burping the National Anthem of Isle of Man in 60 seconds. They gamble 50% of the food budget on completing it.
20 - Nobody has a clue what the National Anthem of Isle of Man sounds like but Rockenspiel says it's a bit like Dancing Queen. The housemates choose Cheesemonger as the one who must complete the task.
21 - Cheesemonger successfully burps not only the National Anthem of Isle of Man but also God Save The Queen, Cheeky Girls Song and the theme tune to Frasier. He is proclaimed as a hero, despite the fact that a vote in a tabloid newspaper shows that 98% of the public want to kill him.
22 - Nominations are due and Cheesemonger tells everyone that he has a Villa in the South of France and they can all come and stay for a holiday. Rockenspiel and Brontone are nominated.
23 - Rockenspiel and Brontone take their nominations well and sit down with Cheesemonger and Random Creature to discuss why they voted for them. Cheesemonger keeps quiet but Random Creature accuses Rockenspiel of being an arrogant, lazy, self-centred Scrotum before bursting into tears.
24 - The public vote Brontone out of the house and nobody really gives a shit. Brontone leaves.
25 - Cheesemonger becomes the first housemate to have a wank. This footage goes down well with the Big Brother pschologist who proclaims that it gives us a true insight into the working of Cheesemonger's mind and brings out his true personality. In other words, he's a wanker.
26 - Big Brother sets the remaining three housemates the task of shifting 5000 tons of Hefalump dung using only a Spork. Cheesemonger is unsure but Rockenspiel is confident, claiming to have done something very similar when he was younger. They gamble 50% of the food budget.
27 - Completely out of the blue, Rockenspiel breaks down in tears and announces that he is leaving. He claims that it is because the dung-shifting task has brought back the painful memories of the Hefalump incident from his childhood. Random Creature tries to persuade him to stay but Cheesemonger sits in a corner, rubbing his hands slyly. Rockenspiel decides to leave.
28 - With only two housemates remaining, the Hefalump dung task proves impossible. They fail miserably and resort to getting extremely pissed on some vegetable wine, made by Random Creature from a couple of mouldy carrots she found in the Big Brother garden.
29 - Nominations are due for the final time. Cheesemonger asks Random Creature to marry him and she accepts. Unsurprisingly Cheesemonger nominates Random Creature to leave. Rather more surprisingly, so does Random Creature.
30 - When the nomination is announced, Random Creature graciously accepts defeat and proclaims that Cheesemonger is a worthy winner. As they are soon to marry, she also agrees to shag him. The event is broadcast live to the nation and is preceded by a speech from the Queen. Everyone in the Big Brother production crew breathe a huge sigh of relief as viewing figures go through the roof. Cheesemonger takes his £70,000 and runs away to Isle of Man. Nobody, including Random Creature, ever sees him again.
1:06 pm
Saturday, June 05, 2004
I have oft been of the opinion, that a child actor is only as good as their director. Sure, there has to be ability in the first place, but if they don't have a good director they have little chance of performing well. My latest cinema outing of Harry Potter & The Prisoner of Azkaban, I believe, has proved me quite correct. After watching the three kids clunk their way through Philosopher and Chamber, no doubt following inspiring directorial advice such as "look surprised" from anooying-kiddy-that-must-be-funny-cause-he's-annoying creator Chris Columbus, finally it seems as these kids have understood what it is to act from the wonderful Alfonso Cuarón, who really has worked wonders on this latest installment. I mean, these movies are hardly ground breaking, or even masterpieces, but Azkaban was visually beautiful to watch, and I didn't find myself wincing every few minutes at the kids stumble through the weak-ass script. The dialogue in this one wasn't much better, but it was directed with so much more style and talent, that it was happily watchable. My only real complaint was the last shot of the movie - icky indeed. A shame since it had done so well till then.
Am off to Brighton tomorrow to meet the Rarebreed folk - how long do you reckon it takes to drive from London to Brighton on a Sunday afternoon? I never know how much time to give myself. Gonna be meeting at the Brighton Marina though, so at least if I'm early there's lots of shopping I can do (which with my current low bank balance should be amusing).
If all goes well I shall be starting a new job in a week which will give me some location experience, which should be good indeed. Bit nervous though. And the pay is a bit crappy, but it's still more than most, so I shouldn't complain too heartily. Plus I'll probably be working quite a few 6th days and getting Per diems when I travel, so... shouldn't work out too shabby. We shall see.
7:37 pm
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
I sometimes really hate being grown up. Somedays I just wish I could be little again, and not have to worry about all this bloody sodding big life crap that's just ringing in my ears. You remember that potential quandry of dream vs career. Potential now it ain't. My heart wants me to do one thing, whereas my sensibilities tell me another, and I don't know what to do. Suddenly I feel tired of being so fucking responsible and level headed, always doing what I should, always for the benefit of others - but whenever I start to seriously think about it, I get so scared I rush right back to what I should do. And then sit in that pit of adultness and mither myself that there are dreams unfulfilled. I always thought I could strike the balance, and maybe I can - maybe today I just stupidly hormonal and can't handle any decision with more impact that what I should cook for supper.
All I think sometimes is, what if I've made the wrong choice? What if I'm leading myself down some dark path of responsibility that will lead to my own isolation and depression? What if I'm turning into that whining, self-reflective, over-analytical twat that I was when I was 17 - cause it's bloody sounding like it. Sigh. I shall try and think of something amusing.
6:18 pm
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Something's really pissed me off lately, and it's frustrating cause I can't blog about it here. Which is annoying, since this is kind of my diary and where I would naturally vent about it.
So! Instead - good things going on.
Technically Speaking looks like it's continuing well with much mirth at rehearsals - which is always a good sign. We start doing some filming gumf soon, so I shall be up in Manchester in a few weekends - Tall Boy, we need to talk!
Next weekend I shall be driving Mac down to Brighton to meet with Rarebreed regarding the Edinburgh thing. Am always nervous meeting new people, so send me confident and delightfully witty personality vibes!
Other Things
Am bouncing with impatience to see the new Harry Potter, but it's unlikely to be this week - boooooooooooooo! I shall revert to sulky 12 year old status.
Watched that Derren Brown seance thing last night. It's amazing how much I get myself scared by these things. I know the whole thing's psychological, as indeed was proved at the end - but damn it, watching that thing while I was alone in the flat was NOT a good idea. Even though I know the ghost doesn't exist - me scared. Perhaps it's more the psychological phenomenon that takes place - that these people are able to manifest such things that aren't real, and that therefore it could happen to me - that's what's scary. Hmmm.
Am not seeing enough of Cheesy these days, but it's all for a good cause while he Stage Manages his latest production. The show lasts until the end of June, so it's gonna be a tough month. What's worse is that if all goes as expected, I will start a new job in July that will keep me late. Boo. Hiss.
And the curse of being female is weighing me down today - if God does exist, when I die I'm gonna kick him in the nuts for this little creational addition to the female form. I wonder if God does have nuts? Your thought on the matter please....
8:41 am
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Day After Tomorrow
So... interesting movie. Now, have to say - I enjoyed this movie. In pretty much the same way I enjoyed Independance Day - nothing in the movie is groundbreaking, the script is typically cliched, the characters pretty shallow - but all made up for by very pretty mass destruction. To be fair, the special effects and action sequences in this movie are brilliant (the only exception be the weird-ass wolves) - and it's always breath-taking watching whole cities being destroyed, especially by something as intangible as nature. It tries to drive home it's moral message a little too much for my liking, although it does bother me that while things may not happen as portrayed in the movie, there is no doubt that we're royally screwing up this planet's eco-system, and could well one day be facing some drastic weather conditions. One thing I did find very amusing in the film was the politcal reversal, with the third world countries suddenly being the ones closing their barriers and suffering the problems of illegal immigration. Of course, eventually they do the "right" thing, and open their countries to the refugees of the United States. Fools. You just know ten years down the line, they'll slowly take over and kick out the original habitants into the cold northern states. See how long the europeans take to throw their weight around Africa too. They'll regret letting them in. Just watch the sequel.
Acting wise, Jake Gyllenhaal is always worth watching, and Emmy Rossum is disgustingly attractive and charming, damn her. My confidence in her ability to play Christine in Phantom however, is now peaked. (Yes, I am looking forward to that movie, despite the fact it may well be lame as hell, it is after the musical I just watched again and again when I was little and totally fell in love with the Phantom when I was a teen - see, I was attracted to evil geniuses even then ;) Cheesy has a predecessor)
The Core
So, Core Group Soho Theatre seems to be back on again. After thinking I'd been discarded, seems the selection process is now going ahead. I get to meet with the guys next week, so fingers crossed I won't make a pig's ear of it. And that they won't think my job takes up too much of my time. Here's hoping! I'd so hate it if my job got in the way of this. It's quite difficult really, trying to balance dreams with realism.
Here's the thing - I didn't grow up poor. But, we were a working class family, and we struggled. Father an electrician who had to work most evenings aswell as days to keep enough money coming in; Mother tripped on a misplaced pram at work and slipped a disc in her back in the pre-compensation era. Meaning she didn't get a penny, and has been unable to work ever since. We lived in a small Lancashire village, so hardly a strain on the income, but two growing, demanding daughters is hardly relaxing on a household's income levels. As a child and a teen, I loved acting and writing. I would've loved to go for them both properly - go to a theatre school or something, take Drama at A level, the whole lot. But at some stupidly early age, I made a decision. That I was going to make money. That I would be self-sufficient and successful, and have enough money to look after my parents when the benefits system eventually crumpled around them. I guess that was at 16. So all my A levels were career orientated. As was my degree. And though I never let the drama and the writing go, it did take a back seat. When I write now, I don't write to be famous, or remembered. I write cause I love doing it. And when occasionally someone else takes an interest, it throws everything a bit weird. Being able to write for a career would be a dream. And when you suddenly kind of see the possibility, and completely going for it can mean letting go of something else, it's scary. I've been so lucky to find a job I actually enjoy and that pays well, and will only pay me better the longer I do it. It's the security I've strived for. So, what happens when one negates the other?
I've heard it said that to be a true writer, you have to give it everything - you can't have another job, it has to be your only aim, otherwise you don't really want it. I say bull-shit. I say anyone who says that either has some weird obsessive compulsive disorder, or has lived with a silver spoon in their mouth. It's all very well and good to do nothing but write when you've got mummy and daddy paying the rent, but when the only money you get comes from yourself it's not so easy. I'm not suggesting my parents wouldn't find the money if they knew I needed it - they would, it's what they do. But I never want them to. I don't want them funding my ambitions to be a writer - I will fund myself. I'm 24 years old - and I will not let myself be their responsibility anymore. I think there's a more important time in every persons life when they have to let go of their parents and stand alone, rather than the other way round. I don't think any parent really does ever let go, so often it's up to the child to make the move.
Man, this is way too self-reflective for a Sunday afternoon. I'm gonna go eat some chocolate.
4:41 pm
Friday, May 28, 2004
It's the coolest blog ever!
8:59 am
Monday, May 24, 2004
Like An Old Tramp
Apologies to the avid Madonna fans out there (who are usually quite avid indeed), but her tour sounds like it's gonna suck big time. Heard on the radio today it's going to be an "amazing spectacle". Hmmm. American Life is going to be performed to sounds of bombs, and pictures of soldiers fighting in Iraq (yawn, predictable); there'll be pictures of starving children while she dares to sing John Lennon's "Imagine" (so many many things wrong with this - including the exploitation of those pictures, and the utter stupidity of performing a song that should only ever be performed by one man), one of her songs is being performed with Bagpipes, it's something like "Holiday" - I like listening to bag-pipes. When I'm in Scotland, as no doubt I will do this year in Edinburgh. Used to liven up a tired pop hit though, sounds hideous. And then there'll be "Like A Virgin", with loads of pregnant women in wedding dresses on stage (YAWN!) - it's so trite and ultimately boring when tired celebrities try too hard - she should let her material stand on its own... oh wait, now I see!
8:34 pm
Saturday, May 22, 2004
Don't you hate it when you're bored because you're too sodding bone-idle to find something to do? Or because you've done everything you wanted to already.
Fat Ass and Billy Zane were supposed to be staying with us this weekend - I have no doubt the weekend would be as traumatic as it always is whenever my sister stays with me*, but at least it's something to do
*The Trials of Fat Ass
Whenever, and I mean, whenever my sister stays with me - there's trauma. The kind of trauma that makes me feel like I'm the older sister by six years.
1. When I was living in my totally ace student house in Manchester (we were in student-heaven with this place-another time perhaps), and my sister wanted to stay over at mine, sleep on my floor, after a night out with some of her mates. She estimated she would be home about 1 or 2 in the morning. I set up her bed, so she could crash straight away, and went to sleep. I woke in the morning to find her bed empty, and to further discover she had not come back. No messages on my mobile, no messages from other housemates. Nothing. Started calling her mobile - no answer. Now, when things like this happen, you try very much not to panic and imagine the worst. But this was my 26 year old sister, who although terminally late for every appointment ever, is usually quite responsible. Maybe she just got too pissed and stayed at a mates? But she would have called, surely? And why was her phone unanswered - because she's been mugged and murdered and they STOLE her phone and she's dead in a gutter in Moss Side!. 1pm (bloody 1pm!) I finally get a phone call. Of course - she decided to stay at a friends.
Where are you?
Why didn't you call me?!
Why didn't you call me this morning instead of leaving me to wonder where you were after you didn't come home when you said you would?!
It suddenly became frightfully clear that I was going to become a very stressed mother one day - however, I did not appreciate being a stressed mother over a 26 year old who hadn't called because she "didn't want to wake me" - no, no, leaving me worrying for 6 hours is a much better solution than a loss of one minute's sleep.
2. Foolishly, I said she could stay again. Only this time - to be fair - she told me she had decided to stay at a friends well in advance of her due-home time. Except, that this time she did the reverse of the last story. 6am in the morning, there's banging at the front door. And a lifting of the lettebox and a "Hellooooooo"! echoing in the corridor. I'm a heavy sleeper and at the back of the house (yes, it was that big), so I don't hear. If I remember correctly, Tall Boy, ignored her. However, other housemate, whom I shall call Huggy Boobs, did hear, and let her in. Fat Ass was drunk and talking in the typical non-stop way the women in my family do when they've had a few - Huggy Boobs is NOT a morning person AT ALL. Already unimpressed by being woken up at 6am, now she had to listen to a housemate's sister talk at her. Sister didn't go to sleep until the hangover kicked in, sometime midday probably. Fun.
3. The first (and last) London stay over. My sister scooted down to London to join me at the Ali G premier (after demanding her right to a premier ticket for a year, purely on the grounds that she was my sister "so there" - I finally relented. The evening was good, although I left with a bruised arm from FA grabbing my arm every five minutes and going "Look, look over there!", only for me to catch sight of some actor from Holby City or fucking Hollyoaks. Next morning I went to work, leaving FA in the flat. A few hours into the morning, I get a call. "Your flat's flooding". I was certain for ages it was something she had done, but to her credit, it was a burst pipe from the flat above (though it took the Estate Agent a whole 12 hours before he would admit that was the case-cretin). I asked her to stay in the flat to wait for the fix-it guy, and also to keep an eye out in case any other leaks started. This is where the problem started, cause of course she had better things to do and sitting around my soggy flat wasn't one of them. Although I think the row started because she told me I should be more grateful that she had wasted her day doing this for me. I hate that. I hate being told when I should and shouldn't be grateful - I don't like being beholden to anyone, or having anyone beholden to me. I am a quietly grateful person, I don't gush or thank profusely, cause I find it embarassing, and usually fake in others. I will be grateful by returning favours, and doing other nice things. I will not however, be grateful just because I'm expected to be. Especially when she was being hypocritical anyway since I'd taken her out the night before. So we had a very big argument, that ended with me hanging up on her, and both of us complaining to our Momo for the rest of the day. We didn't speak to eachother for a month after that. Fun.
So I might have had some fun tales to tell from this weekend, but alas, all I have is me being bored. I got up this morning, went to the farmer's market, went to the building society, emailed a whole bunch of production accountants in job related stuff, and then sat down at 1pm with nothing else specific to do. Hmm. There's loads I could do, but I now have a lethargic cloud over my head that has left me sat here, talking about me sister, who most the time is a perfectly acceptable sister despite the stories. Especially now I know how to finish arguments with her. She gains momentum and ferocity the longer an argument goes on. Ignoring the argument, or making a rude irrelevant comment cuts off her tirade. I find "Bite me" to be especially effective.
4:05 pm
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
Just been touching up my car (with paint - weirdos). I'm not sure of its success yet. I think up close it's gonna look pretty crappy but at least from a distance people can't tell I'm a useless girl who's managed to scratch her car numerous times along the same damn brick wall. The first time a result of my complete loss of temper over my useless parking skills. Matters weren't helped by the three work men chopping down a tree who took it upon themselves to make generously sexist comments about women driving while I painted. I also was chatted at for five minutes by an elderly gentleman who by the end of his conversation seemed to think I'd agreed to touch up his car (with paint - weirdos).
Today is my day off - I am now enforced part time - so I'm trying to make good use of the time, since no doubt I will soon be broke as a result of my vastly reduced salary. Fun. But tomorrow I get to meet up with La Bron for theatre outings, so should be fun.
Oh yeah - the tree. They're chopping down the tree that's in front of our flat. Nests and all. Now I know pigeons are generally considered rats with wings, but even I think it's a little harsh to kick them from their nest when they're just babies. Apparently the tree is a nuisance. Firstly because it houses too many birds (how dare it!) which are noisy and dirty, and apparently also affects the drains around the building. The real reason is because "Pat" or whoever, can't see properly out of her window. Personally I would much rather look out of my window at lovely green leaves and buds that the smelly main road filled with congested cars - but hey, each to their own. The bloody tree was there first anyway. And as for the birds, I'm sure we wouldn't mind our homes being destroyed if our neighbours disliked our presence. I realise I am actually quite cross. It's a beautiful tree, and yes we do get woken up in the morning by the pigeons, but so what? At least that way we can vaguely pretend we're living in the country and not in some built up, stinkpot city.
10:28 am
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Well... despite my inate paranoia that the whole Edinburgh thing was gonna fall through, it all seems to be still on track. It's not that I lack faith in the thing - I just have a natural pessimism that seeps through sometimes.
So, I am putting a final call to Edinburgh for those who wanna come share a flat from 28th-31st August and come and have some festival fun. Current definites are myself, Cheesy, the Small Yappa Type Dog and her Rockenspiel, and Mishka+1.
Had a nice weekend with Cheesy's folks. Gorgeous summer weather which goes just nicely with the Somerset area, and a good drive there and back. His ma makes possibly the best home cooked food ever, and I always leaved feeling stuffed full of goodness. I even ate asparagus, and those who know my vegetable aversions will no doubt be impressed. His ma's also thinking of buying a Smart Car, at the behest of his pa. Wise people. Am so jealous.
My sister just turned 30 - so now I feel old, even though there's a big gap between her. Also, my sister always gets in such a grump if you don't show suitable appreciation for gifts she has bought - but did I get a phone call thanking me for mine - an extremely well thought out present? Nooooooo. Humph. Well, it's the giving, right?
7:32 pm
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Aaah - new pictures. Got this from Oogly Googly, which has some great art work on it - go check it out.
On another note - The guy who sounds like Kermit in our building I discovered today also looks like the rapper guy from Linkin Park. It's messing with my head!
7:36 pm
Monday, May 10, 2004
Waaaaaaaaaaaa! My picture's gone. Booooooooooooooooooooo.
Must find new picture then. Hmmmm.
2:35 pm
Oooooooh. New blogger-ness. Hmmm. Not decided yet if I like it.
Sooo, AUDITIONS! We had them, and they went a lot better than we hoped. I've forgotten how much I miss this stuff. I love auditions - I love watching people try, and I love being surprised and finding the perfect person to fit. Sometimes auditions can be heart-wretchingly awful and painful, and there are always moments, but I love the theatre so much. What the heck I'm doing in film I don't know! It's the only reveries where I truly wish I had money - enough to invest, and have a go at this stuff properly. But, tis life, and dwelling on what we can't have is never healthy (although very difficult not to do). But this will certainly do for now. So, for those of you in the know - here's the cast. For the feisty bitch from hell Louise, we have the delicious Rachael Hilton. This girl is gonna go far, you mark it now. If she isn't a ridiculously well respected actress in five years I'll eat my own foot. The girl swans off for Drama School in September - I wouldn't be surprised if you know her name before she even graduates. For our bitter single dumped on girl Sarah, we have Charlotte Knowles - another sickeningly gorgeous girl who's currently studying at LIPA, can sing, dance and is generally very annoyingly talented (can you tell I'm not bitter). Our bouncy giggly (never to be replaced by the original) Samantha is being played by a lady from the theatre who I don't actually know, called Zoe Duffin. But from the audition she seemed ace, and has a cool little voice - and she's short - so yay! The poisoned dwarf lives!
The very delectable and often confused as gay Tom Cohen steps into the very delectable and often confused as gay Julian's shoes - not type casting at all then. Teehee. He's a good lad and I think he'll surprise a lot of people with this outing - although him and Rach have a history more complicated than the characters, so it should all be rather amusing.
The bastard who doesn't want to be a bastard, Dickiebird No1 Peter is being played by a complete newbie called Tony (surname escapes me at the mo) - this guy was ace. Sooo funny. Really looking forward to seeing what he does. Plus he had great chemistry with Mike Wignall, who's playing his best bud and Dickiebird No2 Paul. Again, know very little about Mike, but he totally nailed Paul in the audition - and I really look forward to seeing what he can do.
So... Cast and done. Now I leave it all in the very capable hands of La Bron. After I write the sodding ending that is.
8:38 am
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
La Spice's birthday was at the weekend - was indeed mucho fun. Twas indeed an amusing sight to see the Limpit being carried by the little yappa dog. Poor boy injured himself at a football match. Technically, before the match. Exercising. Ain't that like a footballer.
Auditions this Saturday for the Chorley folk.
Hmmm. Not writing much at all. I lack inspiration this week.
I wish I lived in Manchester.
Ooooooh. I remembered some news. This is for those of the Royal Exchange era. Last week, I was watching an episode of Bad Girls (understand "watching" at home indicates "ignoring" what Fat Ass decides is worthy television; so don't judge me harshly on this), and who should I see but Tristan Sturrock. I completely fell in lust with this guy when I was a mere usherette on "As You Like It", when he was the lovely Orlando. Total crush. Which is odd for me - I rarely fall in lust. Especially when I don't know the guy. Anyway - I always feel like a giggly schoolgirl when I remember Tristan - lots of whispering and giggling amongst the girls on that show. Was very upset of course when the show ended. I say all this safe in the knowledge that Cheesy can't get grumpy at this, since at the time he had a girlfriend, and I fancied him anyway, and had fancied him when he was single only he went and snogged Emily - so there! Rargh.
7:16 pm
Saturday, May 01, 2004
Sorry for the absence. Funerals tend to make you self-orientated for a while. Sometimes I wish I was more religious, then I could maybe get something out of the funeral process instead of getting pissed off. I don't want to hear about sodding Jesus and his trials on a day like that. I wanna hear about my Aunty and nothing else. Still, bitterness isn't the place for it. So, I shan't go down that rant. It was a horrid day, I suppose, but what else could it be? But still, I have no wish to be depressing, so I shall leave that subject well alone till it cuts less.
Not Really Cutting It
I loved the last two series of Cutting It - it was always a bit bonkers, and entirely romantically complicated. But the opening episode for the new series was beyond ridiculous. Allie's home birth was just stupid - why is calling a doctor is considered unnecessary when your insides are about to burst open with a little person? Not only was it stupid on behalf of the mother, but what about the baby? If there had been any complications the kid would have been screwed. It's a shame they skipped over the cutting of the umbilical cord - which I can only guess was done with a pair of kitchen scissors. Ridiculousness. And of course the other one walking about with her baby mere hours after birth, after screaming the place down. I know - "suspension of reality". But, jeez, it only goes so far. So the new series - unimpressed so far.
Edinburgh
As previously mentioned, got a bit of a thing on at the Edinburgh Festival this year - am planning on booking a place for the last 5 days of the festival, and wanted a show of hands. Some of those among my gossip circle have expressed an interest in joining me up there, so I wanted to get a rough idea of numbers. Let me know if you fancy it.
8:43 am
Friday, April 23, 2004
Oooh GMail - that'll be interesting. I've been able to use my actual name for the first time ever! (Not that I'm gonna type my full name here, but I share my name with a famous person - I cannot be googled!)
The Funny Thing
In my new offices, you hear a lot. In particular, one of the editing rooms contains some kinda loud and very vocal americans. This isn't the funny bit. The funny bit is that one of the guys sounds exactly like Kermit the Frog. It's freaking me out!
The Weird Life Thing
Been debating mentioning this here, so, may not be a very good post. My Aunty Jean just died. She was a big part of my childhood, though really only someone I see at Xmas, and unusually, one of the few relatives I actually spent some time with last time I was home. Despite this, her sudden death has knocked me over in a way I can't describe much. Mostly I feel bad for those extremely close to her, who would never have seen this coming. For me, it's the first real death. That sounds weird, I know. I've been to funerals before. But they weren't people intrinsically part of what I know to be my life. This is the first real family one, and as expected, I don't like it much at all. Death and me don't agree with eachother much. I don't fear my own death - come what may on that front. But I do fear loss, and hate the utter weirdness of it. You'd think evolution would have built us better to deal with death, what with it being ever so inevitable and our extreme awareness of it. So, I don't like it. That's me being solemn. I wanted to put a bunch of anecdotes and funny stories about her, but I just don't have it in me. Maybe after the funeral. To be true though - the family won't be the same without her.
7:08 pm
Monday, April 19, 2004
My my, it's certainly quiet out there. I'm not complaining (well, not very loudly), but I do miss having things to read. Is the blog craze dying out? Saying that, my own blog time is limited now. I'm in the cursed position of my computer screen being in full view of the boss, so no sneaky blogging for me during my working hours. And at home I have to fight with Cheesy for computer access - you try getting a smelly boy to leave Splintercell alone for the evening. Not so easy. This week is quiet in that respect too - since the boy is off doing theatre things and beings very busy, tired, but in a happy way, so it's all good. Ah! A moth just flew in my face.
The flat's a mess. I hate cleaning. I blame my parents for trying to force me to be tidy as a child - I think it bred in me a pure stubborness to be messy. And the boy is also very messy too. Nearly as much as me.
Note from Cheesy's Book - Fool girls into thinking you're tidy for long term luvin
When I first knew him (pre-smoochies), he expressed a strong desire for tidyness and a constant promptness to washing up. Being in the early stages of idealised love and lust, I ignored the fact that my messiness would probably be incompatible with his tidyness, and instead focussed on what an ideal pairing we were, that he could be the tidy to my mess. Somewhere between coy flirtations and downright dirty dating the boy transformed into the messy git I know and love today. Together, we are a health hazard. We both have too much stuff, hate washing up, routinely forget the use of coat hangers, and have allowed our hoover to grow musty. Although he is better at finding things I've lost than I am - I ransack the place in a heated temper whereas he calmly browses the room and spots the missing item in an instant (as per this morning). This can be silmultaneously beneficial and irritating - depending how pre my menstruals are.
But yeah - point is, messy flat, and I have no desire whatsoever to tidy it. Gross.
And on a side note, thanks to a new revelation today from a certain other, I have involuntarily become a fag-hag for the fourth time. I don't mind, but I worry about getting a rep.
What's weirder about this, is that three of these guys have later admitted that they fancied me before they came out. In a dating kind of way. Now, I either turn them off the female sex, or (more favourably I feel) I'm a gay icon. Yes, gay icon - we'll go with that.
Honestly, I think I've lost my gaydar. And I used to kick Tall Boy's ass in that arena - God knows what his is like now - it's a wonder he ever got laid. ;)
8:48 pm
Friday, April 16, 2004
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Best weird bonkers day ever.
So, I've got a job - start Monday. It's for "Beyond the Sea" which is Kevin Spacey's latest effort, but in post-production. This is good, cause it should be 2/3 months max - downside is, it's just me and the boss, and a heap load of stuff to do, half of which is stuff I've either only brushed over, or not done at all. Eep. I went there for three hours this afternoon, to "get the idea", which is about the best I can hope for. So well and truly dumped in the deep end for this one - it'll be good for me (that's if I can actually do it), so I can't complain really at all. They've picked me out pretty much solely because they can pay me sod all for my inexperience, so I suppose they can't very much complain if I go "huhmnew" every now and again.
Had a horrible tube journey home - yeah, I shall be commuter-girl once more, as this job's in Soho. So I was feeling moderately grumpy. At home I decided to cook a burger for supper - after the usual 15/20 minutes, I took the thing out to turn it, only managed to flip the burger right off the tray, from whence it landed in the scum water of the sink. Yum. Pizza then.
But I bother not! For I've had the best news for ages!!!!!!!
One of my plays is going to be performed at Edinburgh this year!
A few weeks back, a guy I know from Soho Theatre sent out this email saying a new theatre group was looking for a script for Edinburgh, and needed stuff sending that night. So I sent Waking (the piece I wrote through Soho Theatre), but didn;t hear anything back - till now. They love it, want to do it, and it's gonna be on at the Bedlam Theatre from 20-31st August - yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
So this is me, bouncing round my flat, and looking forward to August with soooooo much glee. I could flip a million burgers tragically into the sink and wouldn't care a jot.
9:28 pm
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Reunions
Also, whilst in the land of Chor, I managed to meet up with the one, the only Charlies Angels - this is a very old story, way beyond any telling, but let it be understood that I hadn't seen these three girls in a loooooong time, and when we did hang out, it was under very memorable circumstances. They all seemed to be doing very well - the blonde one was bitterly single, but we remedied that by going out in the evening, where she hooked up with one of Footie Paul's mates (who performed a shameful "pull the girl very quickly whilst mate who was already in the process of pulling her goes to the toilet - very impressive manoeuvre, but very sneaky).
Seeing Footie Paul again (very old friend who I do not see anywhere near enough) was indeed splendid, and I hope to repeat the occurrence often. Also managed to see Ickle Claire, again someone I've not seen forever, and is now buying a house - yipes! People all growd up.
Still, nice to go back to the homeland every now and again. Not to mention quality time with Momo and Popo - which is always amusing and enjoyable.
3:32 pm
Lesbian, you say?
So, turns out Technically Speaking is a go. After actually reading the play, and realising that it isn't 60 minutes of wild naked lesbian sex (god I dread the search engine results for that), the committee have agreed that the show will go on. Those of you in the Chorley vicinity who can, you know, act - do please audition on 8th May. Thank you. Ta da.
Anyway, so that's something to look forward to. In a self-gratifying kind of way.
Dawn/Shaun of the Dead
Saturday saw a group of us partake in a Zombie Movie Marathon - the group consisting of me, Cheesy, La Bron, and La Bron's Fella. The plan was to be scared by zombies in the afternoon, and then laugh our way out of nightmares with the funny zombies, whilst simulatenously looking out for Cheesy and La Bron, who play zombies in the latter movie.
I never saw the original Dawn of the Dead, so cannot comment on it's comparability to its predecessor. But all in all, not a tragically awful movie. I was scared quite frequently, but that's not a great accomplishment as I scare pretty easy. I used to frequently scare myself into nightmares when I was a kid purely based on monsters and nasty scenarios my own imagination would create, never mind things that were actually suggested or shown to me.
Acting was pretty good, though there were typically hollywood plot points where you had to wonder at the intelligence and general survival instinct of these people. Anyone who practically commits suicide trying to rescue a frickin dog deserves to be eaten alive by zombies quite frankly.
However, there are some very good, even original moments. The guy on the roof was probably the only character I truly rooted for. The romance in it was a little dry and somewhat pointless, especially considering the resolution of a particular relationship.
Also, I found the ending, although visually and creatively very good, was a little bleak for my liking. In a similar scenario, I much prefer the feel to the ending that you got in Resident Evil (another zombie movie, that I think I actually prefer to this one).
Shaun of Dead - predictably excellent. I read the script for this last year (back in my Working Title days), and laughed myself silly through the script, and knew it would be something close to brilliant. Knowing all the jokes and actions before they happened did indeed take away some of the joy for me, but it's still a fantastic movie. Simon Pegg and all around him are very funny, and what surprised me frequently was the level of emotion and sadness in the movie, which resulted in me being far more affected by certain key deaths in Shaun than Dawn. Reflecting my long standing viewpoint, that comedy is a far greater and truer way of story-telling than most styles. Stories that are void of comedy, in my opinion, are not realistic. It may seem odd to suggest that even the gravest of stories or incidents can be told with comedy, but Life is Beautiful is a classic example of horrific events portrayed alongside humorous circumstances, to an amazingly powerful effect.
But anyway, so yeah, you really feel some of the losses to zombification in Shaun, not to mention some particular grossness in places. The music rocks too.
As for the Cheesy/La Bron cameos? Alas, it seems most of it ended up on the cutting room floor, except large crowd scenes where a blink of the eye won't even give you the tiniest peek. We eagerly await the DVD for zoom and freeze potential.
3:21 pm
Friday, April 02, 2004
And so I return to the homeland once more this weekend. Yay! (Please note no sarcasm).
This week's been kind of cool. I quite enjoy being on holiday (cough *unemployed*). Though I'm sure that pesky money problem will drive me back to work before long. Been catching up on those all important appointments like dentist (one filling needed - grump), and hairdressers. Even managed to go see my physio, who has since last I saw him, left his wife and bought an apartment in central london. Shows that a lot can happen in 6 months. Apparently my neck is a bit out of sorts again - which at £50 a session is not good news. I have whiplash you see. And no ordinary whiplash at that - oh no. I have rollar-blader whiplash.
To explain:
2 years ago. Walking ever so happily along Whitehall - for those of you who know it, a somewhat busy populated street of business-people and disguised politicians. My bus-stop is a little ahead, and blast it if that isn't my bus coming up the street. Better start a mild jog to get there is time, right? I turn back, quite sensibly I feel, to check the road ahead for people I might bump into, when out of the corner to my left, I see a rollar-blader moving along. Here I had one of those mental processes that seems should have taken 10 minutes which in fact took a millisecond: "My, he's going too fast. He's gonna crash into something. He's going to crash into those two expensive looking business-ladies!!! Phew - he swerved just in time and.... POW!!!!!!"
Yes, the lovely gentleman swerved to avoid the two potential "sue the ass off you" lawyer types, and ploughed straight into me. Obviously in the impact he needed to protect himself from my face. And obviously his elbow would do the trick. How crap is that? The guy crashes into me, and raises his arm to my face - you know, in case it might have injured him.
I've never been punched before - I imagine that it was somewhat like that - my whole face exploding. My first thought was that he'd broken my jaw, or cracked my teeth, and once the head spinning stopped I checked about and things seemed ok. I was a crying shaking mess, which the rollar-blader seemed to interpret as me being fine, and scooted off - cause you know "he was in a rush". Cretin.
And herein represents my eternal spat with London - the people. No one stopped. No one asked me if I was ok, or offered to help pick me up off the floor. They all just carried on. London bites this way. In Manchester I once tripped over my own stupid flares and cut open my knee and at least three people stopped to check I was fine. It was quite a dramatic fall, in that Ally McBeal kind of way - but it was my own damn fault. Here I was in London - a victim of reckless rollar-blading, and no sympathy whatsoever. It wasn't till I got on the bus I even realised my chin was bleeding. No wonder everyone was shuffling to avoid me. Tsk.
And so, I had lamo whiplash from an elbow to the face at high speed. Trust me to get a comedy injury. But I still suffer from it every now and again - which pretty much sucks. I wouldn't even know the loser if I saw him, saw no compensation for little old me. Grump.
Anyway, should be a good time back in Lancs - some more long overdue catching up to do. I get to meet with the scary theatre committee tomorrow too - eep. I have my "you hate lesbians!" speech all prepared.
8:29 am
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Lurverly weekend fun. Sleepover at Tall Boys - the boy is impossibly hospitable, which was lovely, but had me leaving Manchester full of way to much food! He is the hostess with the mostess. A pleasure to see the Mishka and the Red Head after such a long time. It's weird how you can go so long without seeing some people, but it's still really cool when you meet up. Managed to go to my favouritest bar ever - Po Na Na. This place is beyond brilliant, and evokes many cool memories. One of which was saucily dancing with the then very-unavailable-Babol, which was a joyous night and a notch on my shameful-scarlett-woman-behaviour. Still, all worked out well in then end. The other significant memory was consuming something around 10-12 flatliners (a deliciously nasty shot concoction of sambucca, tobasco sauce and tequile-yummy), and spending a small portion of the evening sat on the toilet floor, as in my opinion, it was "nice and cooooooooool".
Now I have a new memory - squashing something like 20 people into one booth for photos. This resulted from a lovely meeting with Benjita's Birthday crowd. As seen below (no, I'm not telling you which one's me):
Old world, mixed with new - I always like that.
Anyway, the fools went on to Funkademia, and we went to Poptastic. Wooo! Where Tall Boy finally joined us - that boy and his make-up! Danced away with him and the KitchenTable, but alas, we are aging girls, and our stamina wained rather earlier than normal. We possibly peaked a little early at the Po Na Na I fear. Morning was bleary fun, quick meeting with Momo and Popo - though we had a disaster on the way to the station in that Yappa Dog left her make-up behind - she missed her train to go back and get it, so for all I know she's still on a train back to Cambridge! And she also states that her blog maybe not be a dead puppy after all, so we await her return with hand-rubbing glee.
Viva la weekend!
8:46 am
|
|
| |
|
|
|
