Mon, Feb. 27th, 2006, 07:47 pm
Today was Monday. Today was also a good day. This is because, when I picked up some bagels at the supermarket this evening, I got five in a bag that was priced for four. A free bagel day is a good day.
Mon, Feb. 13th, 2006, 10:01 pm
|You Are a Chocolate Martini|
You're an elegant drunk, who only likes the best bars and the most expensive drinks.
A bit of a cheapskate, you're likely to mooch ten dollar drinks off both friends and strangers.
You should never: Drink and dash. You're gonna get caught leaving someone with the tab!
Your ideal party: A posh celebrity party you crash, with an open bar.
Your drinking soulmates: those with a Classic Martini personality
Your drinking rivals: those with a Blueberry Martini personality
Thu, Jan. 26th, 2006, 06:01 pm
I've just been given a box of Junior Mints
by the wonderful dansette
. They are one of the best foods I've ever tasted. I now understand why some people
believe they have healing properties...
I have been at home sick this week and very little has stirred me to any form of activity. However, there has been one thing that has got my pulse racing - not least because in less than four days I will never have to suffer at their hands ever again. What am I talking about? Why, our delightful neighbours of course. In the nearly six years we've lived in this flat, the neighbours have been mostly appalling. Not in the completely-over-the-top-so-council-has-applied-for-an-ASBO consistently monstrous type way, but in an intermittently awful, inconsistent way that means you can never truly relax. For example, playing very loud, really awful music - okay, they turn it down if asked but have never seemed to grasp the basic point that, if it's far too loud on one occasion, the same issue will return if they play music at the same volume on a second occasion. It's this kind of casual inconsiderateness of others that makes me hate them in a way that I've never really hated any other people before.
Let me introduce them (our nicknames for them only, just in case...):
Sumo: the father in this happy little family. A true south-Londoner who switches into a thick Jamaican accent when he wife is around. He clearly thinks it's cool. He drives a huge SUV. He isn't pure evil (i.e. the Wigga music will be turned down if you stomp around enough) but he doesn't step into prevent it either. This is the man who neglected his cat so much that we had to take her in after he went on holiday without making proper arrangements to feed her, the poor little thing. Remarkably daintly for someone who must weigh about as much as a Routemaster, he once kept us awake all night when he and a couple of dull-witted friends decided to get stoned.
Mega: mother, parasite and the source of all evil. One of the laziest people I've ever known - will shout to Sumo from one end of the house rather than walk. Inconsiderate, in and out of work, noisy. Has a young daughter who was never mentioned until she suddenly arrived in the house from Jamaica one summer, like a sitcom - "well gee, the ratings are getting a little worrying so here's your cousin from out of town who we've never mentioned once. He's coming to stay for the next five years." But Mini-Mega didn't stay for five years, she stayed for one term of school and then vanished as quickly as she'd appeared. Defying all conventional science to make the noise of someone who sounds like she weighs as much as a routemaster bus, she is actually extremely petite. She used to wake us up on Saturday mornings with off-key singing along to CDs, Will Young's "Evergreen" was a particular favourite with the song's climax being repeated about, ooh, 12 times in one go. When her mother came to visit they had a shouting match that forced us to sleep in the bathroom to try to escape some of the noise. Sumo sat there giggling like the deeply repulsive fuckwit he is.
Mini-Mega: daughter and enigma. She came to stay briefly, then vanished. Now she's back. I don't have that much against her as she's only a kid but she has Sumo and Mega for role models so she makes a lot of noise when she gets in from school, including ringing the doorbell to the downstairs flat. When I heard her this afternoon I swore to myself that, if she rang our doorbell, I'd go down and use the last vestiges of my strength to thump her to death with that stupid gong thing - before inserting the gong into Mega and, in turn, inserting Mega into Sumo. That'd learn 'em.
Anyway, I'm free of them in less than four days.
Mon, Jan. 23rd, 2006, 10:34 pm
Guh, I have a stinking cold and I feel like crap.
Sun, Jan. 22nd, 2006, 09:29 pm
My Sunday morning lie in was ruined by a noisy little bastard of a mouse that was looking through the bin for food.
Today's news was mainly about Mark Oaten, the Lib Dem MP whose been forced to step down as home affairs spokesman following relevations about his relationship with a rent boy. What I found slightly odd was that the News of the World, which broke the story, barely featured it on its front page whereas the "quality" papers covered it in much more high profile detail. I really feel for the poor guy, because his political life is dead in the water and I suspect his family life is not going to be much fun either. All because he liked a bit of boy fun now and then - hardly a hanging offence.
On a more upbeat note was this afternoon's trip to the cinema to see a Cock and Bull Story. We waited at the bus stop for ages and then, literally, three came along (almost) at once. The Clapham Picturehouse had a cardboard cutout advertising some new Channel 4 broadband documentary channel. It promised a free sample straight on your mobile if you had Bluetooth. It wasn't fibbing and my phone now has a five minute video clip of something involving ping pong. The entire download took less than a minute and, although the clip is fairly dull, it's pretty cool that it was available at all. The film itself is very funny, especially Rob Brydon doing his Steve Coogan voice, so I'd recommend it. There were trailers for Walk the Line (I'm working on my Phoenix does Cash impression as we speak), Munich (again, I'm getting bored of it now), Syriana (didn't see it, too busy moving to allow people to shuffle past me) and Bee Season. The latter, in case you've not heard of it, should be avoided like the plague. It features Richard Gere in some sort of flawed-dad-does-right-by-kids redemption role. It might be improved if the bees of the title referred to killer bees but, alas, it's spelling contests.
Back at home, I cooked herby mushroom pasta and watched the Monte Carlo Rally (fairly dull, but I need my motorsport fix and it's the only thing going in late January), Popworld and TOTP, featuring Fearne Cotton in a Gothtastic purple dress. Didn't go too well with her flame red (i.e. ginger) hair. TOTP also had Belle and Sebastian, performing their latest single. It's an okay song but Stevie "FUCKING" Jackson was in shot far too much, doing his annoying little moves whilst twanging his guitar in the usual stupid way. I had flashbacks to seeing Stevie "FUCKING" Jackson playing a solo set at Bush Hall: interminable monologues between lazy songs which the crowd was expected to like because he's Stevie "FUCKING" Jackson. Sadly, many of them did, or at least pretended to in a reasonably convincing way. He's the man who wrote "The Wrong Girl", remember, which I was able to dislike intensely from its debut at Bowlie, despite feeling extremely loved up at the time.
Sunday evening blues: back to work tomorrow, quite possibly the last week of living in this flat and not really looking forward to spending future Sunday evenings with just myself for company, even in swinging Balham.
PS - Strawberries & Cream KitKats are very tasty.
Sat, Jan. 21st, 2006, 11:04 pm
This morning was a trip to the Ritzy to see Match Point. Now, when I first heard of Match Point I got the distinct impression that it was a comedy. In fact, the first trailer I saw of it was distinctly "wacky" - even the first couple fo previews seemed to suggest it was going to be fairly lighthearted. But then I saw the second trailer around Christmas time - it looked like more like Fatal Attraction (not good), albeit with semi-naked shots of Scarlett Johansson (good in theory, but clumsily shot in practice). It really put me off and I was quite surprised I could be bothered to get up relatively early on a Saturday to go see it.
Perhaps because I was expecting it to be so awful, it was actually alright. It was pretty difficult to believe some of the story - the "passion" between Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and Scarlett Johnasson, the number of famous London landmarks that just happened to feature, Penelope Wilton as an overbearing, drunk matriarch who was actually terribly nice, the police really being that stupid, etc. And James "Yellow Pages" Nesbit was in it, as a copper who does his detective work in his dreams (any plans for a spin off, I wonder?) but is then easily persuaded that he's wrong by Ewen Bremner. On the upside, I quite liked the "better lucky than good" and Crime and Punishment themes that ran through the film. And hey, at least it didn't feature Liam Neeson as a talking lion...
Trailers were for Breakfast on Pluto, Munich and Capote - which all look pretty good. In the bar of the Ritzy there was a poster of Malcolm X with the words "X-Men" written across it. Obviously, Malcolm X didn't have adamantium claws that emerged from his knuckles but I heard that Martin Luther King could control the weather...
After the film I bought a paper and caught the bus home. I've not done much since, I've felt a bit...sick, so I'm currently tucked up in a sleeping bag watching X-Men 2.
Well, following last night's Broken Social Scene-heavy arrival home, it was time to wind down after a very long and stressful week. And what better way but to relax with a couple of cocktails! I decided it was finally time I used some of the huge bottle of Absolut Raspberri vodka that I brought home from my trip to The Hague in September last year - so dansette
and I had Koi Lemons and Blue Raspberry Martinis while watching Mean Girls on DVD.
As we were going to see Match Point the next day, dansette
asked what a match point actually is so I tried to explain. Inevitably, I got onto the story of my mother's tennis exploits in some sort of Navy amateur mixed doubles league thing. Her playing partner was called Captain Rainbow. This is apparently the funniest name in the world ever. Or perhaps it was just the cocktails, which were fairly strong.
Anyway, the moral of the story is that Absolut Raspberri makes a good cocktail. Would it be ridiculous of me to return to the Netherlands just for the great duty free selection at Amsterdam airport?
Fri, Jan. 20th, 2006, 07:31 pm
Arriving home today was just one big long Broken Social Scene moment. As I listened to a Broken Social Scene track on my ipod, I opened my three items of post - two Broken Social Scene CDs and tickets to Broken Social Scene at the Astoria in February.
And while writing this LJ entry I'm also looking at the NME website - which has a prominent story about Broken Social Scene.
The two weirdest, least tasteful film pitches of all time, in reverse order-
In second place: I.R.A. Zombies - With the peace process in full swing, a splinter group of the IRA plot to plunge Northern Ireland back into the bad old violent days... using zombies as the catalyst. Can Gerry Adams, David Trimble and the Rev. Dr. Ian Paisley put aside their differences and work together to stop the zombie apocalypse in the world's first rom-zom-com-bomb.
But, trumping it, and quite possibly inspired by equally-tasteless-cancelled-almost-as-soon-as-the-pilot-aired TV series "Heil Honey, I'm Home": Dracula Vs Hitler - Towards the end of the second world war the seemingly doomed Fuhrer discovers a way out by calling forth the power of Satan and all his dark minions. Just in case this wasn’t weird enough, enter Count Dracula who, unwilling to bow before Hitler’s satanic might, sets out to thwart the Fuhrer’s plans.
I've already booked my seats...