Filthy/Gorgeous

No, I'm not on about Amanda Tapping again but the new Scissor Sisters album which I bought an hour ago and am playing in the background as I type. Its bloody marvellous. Other things that have got me excited recently are my brand spanking new Adam & Joe DVD which arrived this morning and Sledgehammer which is due to arrive from the US soon on shiny DVD. Oh and one of my fave singer/songwriters, Marcella Detroit, is doing a rare gig in London on September 30th.

I've also discovered a new hobby - penguin poking.

The shadow of the cross!!

This evening oi 'ave been mostly watching camp old horror films.

Namely 'City of the Dead' starring Christopher Lee. Mucho dodgy acting, machiavellian laughter, cliches and campness ensued. And I loved every minute of it. Of course you could predict the plot; Girl goes to village to research witchcraft - girl gets sacrificed - brother wonders where she's got to - goes to find her - almost gets sacrificed along with local vicar's daughter - both saved by first girl's boyfriend who uses the shadow of the cross to destroy the witches. ? Shadow of the cross? Er...isn't that for vampires?

T'other week I saw 'Asylum' - a rather less camp 70's flick with a star studded cast. Robert Powell, Peter Cushing, Herbert Lom, Britt Ekland etc An anthology film it was and reminded me of some of the stories I've read in those Pan horror books. Oh what marvels they contain. If you really want to scare yourself silly (or just creep you out a bit) you can't do better than these. It'd take me far too long to describe my favourites but one particularly chilling tale has a motorcyclist breaking down in the middle of nowhere, staying in creepy old inn only to be attacked in the middle of the night by the landlady with an axe. He escapes through the roof (via standing on a cistern full of dismembered bodies) but before he can get away the landlady chops his fingers off. He runs away but turns round further up the road to see the pub disappear. He eventually stumbles across a nice, safe house where he tells the owner his story - who then dismisses it as all in his imagination.

"Well if its all in my imagination, how come I've got no fingers?" he asks, showing his bloodied stumps on one hand...

Yikes!

And on that note I'm off to read some more.

Crappity crap

Has been the phrase du jour today. Mainly because I've had the day from hell. Been pestered all day by people telling me stuff was wrong, been phoning the wrong people all day, work suddenly decided to get busy too... you know the score. So I've posted a pic of the lovely Amanda to my blog - just because I can. Ok?

Just because.....

Technonovice

Damn my eyes. I want to add funky things to my blog (hit counter, blog roll etc) but don't know how. Well, in principle I know how - add a bit of text to my template - but where do I add it exactly? I wish I could just download the know-how into my brain, like Gunn from 'Angel'.

I'd also like to add a list of what I'm reading/listening to at the side but I'll just have to settle for telling you instead. Ok.

Reading - not alot, just flicking through a Lonely Planet guide to London as I'm going down to the big smoke for a weekend in September. In all the times I've been there I've never been to any of the big museums so when a Stargate con I was going to got postponed I decided to go for the weekend anyway and do touristy stuff.

Music  - was in a rock mood the other night so I pulled out 'Led Zeppelin 2' from my CD collection along with Pat Benatar's albums 'Gravity's Rainbow' and 'In the Heat of the Night'. Not sure what I'll listen to tonight - I feel a bit of Fleetwood Mac coming on...

Watching - the usual. Will & Grace, Dead Famous, University Challenge, Buffy repeats, Waking the Dead (although Boyle is becoming more and more ludicrous as the series goes on), How Clean is Your House? (always inspires me to go on a cleaning spree), Relocation Location Dedication (that's what you need!).

Fancying - Amanda Tapping as always (sigh) along with Megan Mullally quite recently. I'm also having vague stirrings for the likes of Kirstie Allsop and Yvette Fielding which I'm trying to suppress. Could be worse though - it could be Kim & Aggie (ulp!).

Phrase du jour - "Dirty beggars!"

Oh

On reading that back I'm concious that I've come over all Daily Mail when I didn't intend to. I'd like to point out that I love a good drink and have occasionally been known to get drunk. Its just that (most times) I know when to stop and don't have the slightest illusion that I look or sound fabulous whilst doing so. And I don't think the barometer (if that's the right word - yardstick?) of how good a night I've had is whether I've flashed my tits at a camera or thrown up at a bus stop (and taken pride in doing so).
 
A case in point would be my mate Chris's 40th a couple of years ago. I hadn't eaten as we were supposed to be going for a curry later so I started drinking fairly early and on an empty stomach. Chris was in a similar situation. A couple of pubs later and I'd drunk a bottle of red wine and approx 3 1/2 pints of lager, eaten only a portion of chips and snogged the entire group of people I was with including an absolute minger of a girl. I felt like death the next day. Now this scenario wouldn't have been out of place on tonight's report but the difference between them & me is that I am far from proud of my antics. The amount I'd drunk scared the shit out of me and I swore never to drink like that again. And I haven't except for the slight blip mentioned in one of my early posts.
 
I drink because I like the taste of the beer/wine, not as a means to an end - getting wasted.

On my soap box

Have you seen the special report on the news this evening about binge drinking? Its not often I get up on my soap box but I'm getting mighty sick of this culture that blames everybody but the individual for obesity/drinking etc etc. I'm overweight but the only person I blame is me because I eat the wrong foods and don't exercise much. Likewise if I drink too much then its my own fault for not having enough self control, not the pubs for selling cheap beer. Sure, we could change licensing hours, impose a minimum price for drinks, stop pubs from operating happy hours etc all of which may help in some *very* small way but until people are taught that they don't actually look cool, witty and fabulous when barely able to stand or form a coherent sentence then it won't end will it?
 
Judging by the parade of half-wits and fat, semi-naked slappers on the report this evening, the best thing will be to show schoolkids/teenagers that film and say, "You don't really want to look like *that* do you?". Well, all except the bit where some woman slips and breaks her ankle, which I'm still a bit traumatised by. You could actually see it bend the wrong way. Eeuuurrgggh! (was it really necessary to show this in an early evening slot btw?)
 
In fact, show it to anybody who has ever thought they looked great whilst shit faced. Then they can see exactly how pathetic and stupid they really are.

Bargain!

(affects Klingon voice) "Today is a good day to shop!" Or rather yesterday was. I needed a bit of cheering up so I tootled into Manchester for a bit of retail therapy. My mum gave me some money the other week for my birthday and I hadn't spent it so I headed to M&S to buy a top I'd seen. I was prepared for the fact that M&S have a tendency to stock things for about 2 weeks and then you never see them again (I'd seen a gorgeous pair of shoes that disappeared without a trace nary a week later). I dutifully dragged myself numerous times round the store with no luck and was about to give up when I spotted said top all on its lonesome on a sale rack. Size 14 it was - which was slightly smaller than I wanted. There weren't any others so I went to try it on. And by golly it fitted. A snip at £45 - or so I thought. Did I dare hope that it was still at a sale price? There were no sale labels on it. Took it to the checkout and ker-ching! the nice lady asked me to stump up the princely sum of £15.

I love it when that happens.

But oh dear, that meant I'd have to look for more beautiful things to spend my wad, sorry, pennies on. Bimbling into the Triangle to get a coffee from Caffe Nero I came face to face with heaven itself - a Lambretta shop I never knew existed. I have to explain that I've been looking for a nice Lambretta top for ages and come up empty handed. Not so yesterday. Oh dear again, they had a sale on. I didn't find my ultimate top (with the target symbol on) but bought a very nice t-shirt and a cute little hoodie for £33. What a day!

After all that excitement I spent the evening in the company of a Southern Comfort & lemonade, watching 'I'm a Z-list Celeb and a Bit Perturbed'. I'm not sure about Tony Stockwell's abilities. As soon as someone said they were picking up on something he'd say he was picking up on it too. Adele 'Bad cat man' Silva said she was picking up on children in the fuel store. "Oh yes I'm picking up children too..." says Tony. "Was it something to do with the plague?" asked Jeff Nobody. "Yes I'm getting the plague too..." says Tony. "I'm getting annoyed by a stupid tosser." says Terry Christian. "Yes, I'm getting that too..." retorts Tony. Hmmmmm, perhaps he is psychic after all?

Oh, the drama!

You wait ages for a post and then there's two. Buy this. Its got me in it as a squid-faced alien. My tentacles are a beauty to behold.

I said tentacles.

Sheepish grin

Ah, er ..... move along now.....nothing to see here....

Typical me. Get all fired up about doing 'a new thing' then get bored (or is that boring?) pretty quickly. Spent a weekend in a 'Most Haunted' location recently. Well, it should have been an MH location. Grim, dark, dusty, grim, dog-eared, grim, spooky....did I say grim? The place I am talking about it the student halls of St Mary's College at Twickenham. Big old Victorian houses on the outside - potential death-traps on the inside. At least two people thought they weren't that bad. Remind me never to visit their houses. However, I do now have much more empathy with Yvette Fielding. Trolling between my particular house and the bar, I managed to spook myself no less than three times. Once when some reeds rustled behind me, once at my own reflection (the shame) and once more just for the hell of it. I am officially a big girly wuss. And there I was thinking I was dead 'ard an everyfink.

Just realised

That the word 'Sith' as in Star Wars-ey 'Dark Lord of the..' is an anagram of the word 'shit'. Dark Lord of the Shit.

That'll be George Lucas then...

Water palaver

This morning I awoke and stumbled into the bathroom to find that the ever so lovely water company had switched our corporation pop supply off. Bastards. My locks have been oily all day. The people from Greenpeace have been eyeing me suspiciously and seagulls have been giving me a wide berth. I've never been so grateful for a Brita jug of water - at least I could clean me teeth. Came home to find a note from said water co. telling us that the water supply would be off tomorrow and Friday as well which means I have to get up a whole half hour early to wash my bits. Like I said - bastards!

Much fun was had this weekend at the wedding of two of my oldest mates (despite the inclement weather). Even more fun was had at the reception in a pub on the side of a hill in Uppermill, near Oldham. A marquee had been thoughtfully supplied for the disco, with one slight hitch. It was quite literally on the side of the hill and sloped at a 45 degree angle. I was instantly hit by a wave of nausea as soon as I walked in - and I hadn't even had any alcohol yet! Most people likened it to being on the Titanic, complete with damp. The bar was at the top end and the dancefloor at the bottom. Presumably it made it easier to work your way down (though doing it in heels is not recommended).

Shame about the DJ though. Step forward the slightly more conservatively dressed brother of Peter Stringfellow (or so it seemed). The thing is, we've been spoiled rotten by having a friend of ours who lives in London do DJing duties at most of our special occasions. And he's really very good. In fact he's been known to try to play a crap record or two during his set just so people can take a breather. Unfortunately this usually doesn't work as his idea of a crap record gets people dancing even more. At this event he was the best man so could not DJ. Anyway, the Bride (not wearing a yellow catsuit and wielding a sword unfortunately) had asked for 80's music. Not a complicated request you'd think. So Peter Stringfellow duly played ....... a range of 60's music, some of which we'd never even heard of never mind could dance to. All in all, during the evening, he probably played about half a dozen 80s tunes and some camp classics provided by our friend the good DJ. Having said that, the DJ and a drunken gay mate of ours did manage to provide us with the highlight of the evening (and an hilarious anecdote for years to come). Wanting another camp classic to end the night on a high, our mate asked for 'Xanadu'. According to our drunken friend the DJ replied, "You mean the one by the foreign bird with the big tits?" and presuming he meant Olivia Newton John he said yes. Five minutes or so later we heard some sixties number with much whip-cracking in it. "What the hell is this?" we all said. It wasn't until it got to the chorus and some chap sang about being 'In Xanadu' that it slowly dawned on us. What the DJ had actually said was, "D'you mean the one by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Titch?"