You can't get a man with a gun.

But give me an Ak-47 and I'll have a damn good try. *tee hee*

This week I have been mostly fucking knackered doing my day job and working in the evenings on a production of Annie Get Your Gun. Tiring and boring seeing the same musical again and again (8 times in total) but we found fun where we could, making rude jokes and finding innuendo in the script wherever possible. So we've discovered a new euphemism for masturbation, "Tossing an expensive wing-ding." talked at length about that "Swollen-headed stiff." and cheered when Annie blew the head off a cock. I never knew musicals were so naughty.

I've always got AGYG confused with Calamity Jane, thinking they were pretty much the same. Not so. Annie is based on the true story of Annie Oakley who toured with Frank Butler and Buffalo Bill with a wild west show round the US and Europe. Whoever wrote the musical took some artistic licence though. In the show Annie is discovered, meets Frank, gets roped in to Buffalo Bill's show, vies with Frank for top billing but everything ends with them equal. In reality Annie and Frank were already married before they met BB and Frank ended up as Annie's assistant and manager.

Calamity Jane is a whole different kettle of fish. CJ basically journeys from one side of the US to the other to pick up a famous actress & take her back home only to pick up the wrong woman who then steals Annie's man from her. In a nutshell anyway. So now you know.

I'm going to be singing the songs for weeks. By far my favourite song was the title of this post. A catchy ditty which I can see myself singing in karaoke eventually. Or at least attempting to.

I've just about recovered now, catching up on sleep and spending my spare time catching up on various programmes I've Sky+ed recently. I'm still enjoying Ugly Betty immensely and there's plenty of totty for me to admire. The actress who plays the bitchy Amanda, Rebecca Romjin (or whatever her name is), Lucy Liu, Salma Hayek and Gina Gershon is fab as Fabia. I'm even thinking Ashley Jensen is quite cute. But then I've been watching Primeval and enjoying the sight of Hannah Spearit in her pants. Is that wrong?

Its ass whooping time!

Last night I was in the pub in Manchester. Having a lovely time with friends, drinking, flirting, having a laugh. I'd been there since 5pm. Sometime after 7.30 I got a text from an old aquaintance. Someone I haven't seen in years but who tends to send me the odd text message here and there. Odd being exactly how I'd describe his texts sometimes but I digress. Now, to be fair there wasn't any way he'd have known I was in the pub and not at home watching telly. More specifically, not watching the newest episode of Doctor Who.

It was only one word but it filled me with rage. It was a word that AFAIK can only be associated with Who, being the name of a very old monster. Did I tell you I was avoiding spoilers? More importantly did I tell him? I was livid. I threatened his life. He tried to brush it off and claim he was just giving clues but I've read something in the Radio Times today that I think confirms what he said. I still haven't watched the episode yet. I got home late last night and had to be up early this morning to go to a family christening. And since I got home from the christening I've been up here surfing the net, avoiding sites where I know I'll be spoilered and avoiding my brother who is downstairs watching the telly with a stinking cold. Trouble is I've recorded DW on the Sky+ downstairs so unless I can get my hands on some sort of plastic quarantine tent pronto I'm probably not going to watch the ep tonight. Which means the aquaintance has another day's grace before I find him and kill him.

Sunny days

Oh what lovely sunny weather we're having this Easter weekend. Lovely. So why have I spent most of my time sitting on my fat arse at home instead of getting out there? Bah! I haven't done much, maybe a bit of shopping here and there but mostly eating and watching tv. Yesterday I took a scenic ride on the bus to Bury. Very nice views and rural locations some of the time. Today I went into Bolton but it was all closed apart from Caffe Nero so I just popped in for a piece of chocolate zabaglione and an iced chocolate frappuccino thing. Tomorrow I'm off out proper though. Planning on going to Hoghton Tower near Blackburn which should be good if it isn't full of kids or anything.

Work is shit. I've had the most stressful week ever. Two of the younger girls are now taking all my calls which should make my life easier but I'm actually getting more stressed checking what they're doing and correcting their mistakes. And keeping track of everything is a nightmare. Oh and thanks to the useless gets who are supposed to keep an eye on the lads on site its getting worse. My boss thinks the solution is for me to basically do one particular blokes job for him. Bless her, I know she's only trying to find ways to make it go more smoothly but I don't think that's the way to do it. The whole thing reduced me to tears and on more than one occasion I had to really fight the urge to tell them all to fuck off and walk out of there forever. So I'm really looking forward to going in on Tuesday.

Last weekend was the opening of the Dr Who Up Close exhibition in Manchester. I toyed with the idea of going first thing on the day it opened but ended up getting there at 4pm. It was virtually empty. Just me, a small group of geeky lads and a couple of families. Its a pretty good exhibition but very short. Or maybe its just me? I often find that if I go to exhibitions/museums/galleries on my own I go through them pretty quickly, not bothering to spend time reading the info boards/cards other than a cursory glance to see what they are. I'm not really sure why that is. A lack of patience? A short attention span? It took me about 10-15 minutes to get through the Who exhibition. And whiletaking pictures too. Maybe I'll take longer next time as I'm bound to be with someone else. Or maybe I'll end up way ahead of them tapping my foot and looking at my watch impatiently? *shrug*

I also spent some of my time that day taking more pics of Manchester. This time taking macro shots of flowers and pics of architectural details on various buildings. They've turned out a bit shit really. I really need to take a tripod with me next time. I'm always conscious that people are looking at me though. Like I'm some sort of weirdo taking pics of buildings. I know its more likely they couldn't give a toss what I'm doing but I still can't help feeling self-conscious. I think it stems from an incident at Uni. I was taking a picture of a tree in Leicester one afternoon, experimenting with black & white film & one of two besuited blokes passing by made some sarky comment at me. What the fuck it had to do with him I've no idea. I wasn't getting in anyone's way or doing anything weird or offensive or trespassing. Just taking a fucking photo. Why are some people such utter utter c*nts? Why do they feel they're qualified to judge everyone else? Why do they think they're fucking better than everyone else? Sad twats. Well, the photo turned out really well anyway. In my opinion one of the best I've ever taken. So screw you business man.