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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
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Technically Rachel
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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
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