Slight problem

Our PC at home is well and truly fucked (that's the technical term I believe) so I won't be able to post for a while unless I come into this dump of an internet caff again next weekend. Hopefully it will be fixed sooner rather than later. It does mean that I've lost all my pics (not that there were many) and my links but hopefully my documents are ok. Bloody computers!

Came into Manchester yesterday to watch the Gay Pride Parade. Had a more or less grandstand view at the junction of King St and Cannon St (or is it Corporation St?) and saw many of the wonderful floats. I was nearly decapitated by a big inflatable star thing but the scantily clad go-go dancers on a couple of the floats more than made up for it. There were even some cuties among the gay paramedics. And for the gay chaps and straight ladies there were many buff bods parading around in little more than thongs and short shorts. Marvellous. The highlight was the BigBears float right at the end - a group of semi-naked big hairy blokes soaped up to the nines. Made me giggle like a loon. Special mention must go to the nice lady in front of me who gave me her whistle as I'd failed to attract the attention of the woman giving them out. I really felt a part of things then.

Today I'm in town using the net caff so I may wander up to the village to see what's on offer.

Ciao for now.

Nibbles

Took my mum for lunch today as it was her birthday this week. Not the usual procedure, believe it or not. Normally the three of us (me, mum & brother) would go for an evening meal but at the time of asking her what she wanted to do she and my brother weren't speaking to each other (he'd been a moody sod last time they'd met up and she wasn't putting up with it). So it was just the two of us. A nice change actually. I can cope with them individually but if the three of us were together they'd start bickering and I'd be looking for the nearest razor blade. Therein lies the tale of my birthday meal last month.

Anyway, mum started talking about the long promised trip to Paris for the three of us that she's been wanting to do for 11 years. I've never been to gay Paree and I got all excited thinking about how many croissants I could stuff myself with while cruising the Seine. The trouble is she's left it to my bro to look up flight and hotel prices. Big mistake. Good job my bro isn't God or we'd still be a lifeless planet. 'And yea on the fourth day God decided he'd had enough and couldn't be bothered creating life. "I'll do it tomorrow" he said. On the fifth day he'd apparently run out of money. On the sixth day he'd got a quote from the ocean maker but it was too high. On the seventh day he rested (ie played Minesweeper on his computer for the next millennium). And its been that way ever since.'

So I've offered to have a look myself. Well, if you want a job doing properly...

New blog

Thanks to a spiffing experience on the bus home from work tonight I have decided to add a new blog to my resume. It is called 'Aren't bus drivers c*nts?'. I believe the title speaks for itself. Enjoy!

Shippy stuff

A nice young lady on the Who forum at Outpost Gallifrey has just asked me if I have a spaceship (I call myself Spaceminx there too). I'd never thought of it before but I should have one shouldn't I? What kind of Spaceminx would I be without a ship? I immediately thought of that phallic ship from Flesh Gordon but that wouldn't really be appropriate would it? Besides, I should get my own. Bit lacking in inspiration right now though. All I know is that it should be purple (my fave colour) and either glittery or shiny. Oh, and called something suitably minxy like 'The Whipcrack'. And who would I get for a crew? Me as captain obviously..... Delia or Nigella as ship's cook, Kim and Aggie as ship's cleaners, Kylie in her Charlene mode as ship's engineer, Amanda Tapping as my 2IC (and love interest....what?...rules? Hey its my ship). Who else do I need? Doctor, navigator, communications, security officer (Jennifer Garner I think - she kickboxes in RL, she'll do).

Suggestions people.....

Hmmmm, haven't posted any pix for a while so here's one of a cyberchicken. Not done by me incidentally. I'm not *that* clever.

A game of hide the sausage

My favourite SF series of all time, Star Cops, is coming out on shiny DVD at the end of this month and I've just pre-ordered it from Play.com. Oooh look at its moist loveliness. Drool over the fabulous extras. I'm bouncing up and down and hyperventilating as I type. I should probably stop that. Is it sad to get this excited over a DVD?

"Aw ripper, I'll bring me cossie.."

One's reviews

So yesterday I was trawling the web for reviews of The Grel Escape. Friends had told me there were some good ones in there (and they never lie, oh no) and indeed there were. One chap on Outpost Gallifrey (a Dr Who fan site) raved about me & said I stole the scenes I was in. Cue happy glow and inflated head. Unfortunately another chap on the same site (named Brick???) said I was crap. Or 'lacklustre' as he tactfully put it. Now I could have a good old rant about what an utter tosser he is, dispute his parentage and the size of his manhood etc but the trouble is that I can see his point. I wasn't aware of being wooden at the time but on listening to it on shiny CD I was troubled to hear myself coming across like a plank of 2x4. Maybe a certain amount of overacting is necessary for audio? He also said I was adenoidal - I feel I should point out that I was full of a stinking cold at the time of recording and the Vicks Sinex I had to compensate was bloody useless. Oh well.

Lately my friends and I have been obsessed with the film Xanadu and all the campness it entails. We now constantly refer to Olivia Newton John as 'That foreign bird with the big tits' (see Water Palaver, July 7th) and at a party in Durham at the weekend (hosted by the friend who made the now immortal gaffe) we watched her in all her glitzy glory accompanied by a doddery Gene Kelly on rollerskates. Fun. And imagine my moistness when in an 80's lyric quiz doing the rounds at work I spotted, "A place where nobody dared to go, the love that we came to know..." This film is permeating my life so much at the mo, it must be a sign. So everybody keep an eye out for a horse called Xanadu that I can put a bet on. Or failing that, a greyhound called 'Foreign bird with the big tits'.

My brain hurts

I've been attempting to add some funky doohickeys to my blog. You may notice the hellfire-esque hit counter on the right which (woo hoo) I manged to add myself under the tutilage of glitter-meister Lee. Unfortunately I didn't have the same success with the blogroll. But never fear, Lee will be tinkering and puttering and more or less doing it for me. Hurrah! Soon I will be able to link to all those beautiful blogs.

Matlock Expressway

Well just in case you were sitting on the edge of your seats wondering where I'd got to this weekend, I ended up in Matlock. Finally. After attempting and intending several times. Not that it was really worth the travelling. The journey there was nice enough - gorgeous weather and lovely scenery once we'd got out of the Manchester 'burbs - but the destination was disappointing. Firstly, I'd forgotten that Matlock and Matlock Bath are two separate places and that Matlock Bath was the place I really wanted to be. So inevitably I got off the bus in the wrong place. A short bus hop put me back on track but oh dear. I was expecting a pretty town with quaint tea shops and olde worlde houses but got Blackpool without the sea. Every eating establishment was a fish & chip shop with one or two exceptions - cafes that mind bogglingly didn't sell sandwiches (is Matlock Bath the town that sandwiches forgot?). The other buildings were mostly amusement arcades and tacky gift shops.

I did manage to go up the Heights of Abraham though - a cable car ride up a bloody big cliff with touristy stuff at the top. I drooled over the prospect of a scone with jam & clotted cream on offer at the cafe but decided to work up to it by going up the Prospect Tower (a view point/tower with pant-wettingly scary narrow stone steps) first to get a look at the views and take pics. And then despite my brush with death there I decided to push my luck and my claustrophobia by taking a guided tour round one of the lead mines nearby. We were warned that some of the tunnels were low (about 5'4") and the floors were wet and slippy and that there were 160 steps to climb so I very nearly bottled it and escaped after the introductory film. Foolhardiness got the better of me though and I carried on. It was lovely and cool but, as warned, a bit of a death-trap. I slipped twice and bumped my head at least once. My claustrophobia came out in force though which was the worst thing. I don't mind the odd bit of bending over (steady on you dirty beggars) as long as its very brief but one tunnel leading up to the Great Masson cave was continuously low. And it scared the shit out of me. I was shaking by the time I got through. The big caves were worth the trauma though - very awe inspiring. I know I should feel proud of myself for facing my fear and getting through it but I don't think I am. Its not like I'm suddenly cured or anything. I know I'll feel exactly the same if I have to do it again. And I missed out on my scone too as by the time we came out It was nearly time for my bus. Pooh!

Next time I'll stop at Bakewell which seemed much more my sort of town. Plenty of tarts on offer.

Oh really....

TFI

Woo hoo its the weekend! And I've no plans. Bum. I may take myself off to see a film or two - King Arthur and The Stepford Wives both appeal. Now there's an idea for a film. Art moves Guin and the gang to a new, nicer Camelot only for the women to turn into mindless robots catering to their chaps' every whim.

Maybe not.

But the weather is going to be rather nice apparently so being indoors doesn't sound fun. Maybe I'll tootle off to take some pics somewhere now that the photography bug has bitten me again. I went off on my travels to Pendle Hill again last Sunday and had a good time. Weather was gorgeous and everything was peaceful. Well, except for the bus with the shoddy suspension. Its a good job I don't get travel sick. Or have piles. Oh and there was that dreadful woman from daaaahn saaaaf who had a voice that could strip paint and an opinion on everything. Hmmmm. I fancy a trip to the seaside but unless I want to take pics of used condoms and raw sewage I'll have to go somewhere other than Blackpool. I'll have to dig out a map.

9 seasons in one day

I've just heard on the grapevine that Stargate SG1 is going to a ninth season. Blimey! Now, I love Stargate really I do but aren't the actors getting fed up by now? Don't they want to move on and do other things? I can't imagine being in the same job for 9 years - I usually get antsy after 6 months. Mind you, most jobs I've been in weren't what you would call fulfilling. They're just a means to get cash. Who knows, if I ever get a job in the media (yeah, right) maybe I'll love it so much I never want to leave (and that's a distinct possibility folks).

Anyway, must go. I've got the tea on and I think I can smell the broccoli burning.