Hooked

So what came first? Coffee tables... Or pirates with wooden legs? And how did that particular furniture-to-limb transplant first come about? Did four pirates all come in one day with a remarkably similar one-leg-crocodile-savagement? (That's one leg of each pirate savaged by the way, not a one legged crocodile savaging pirates.) As the doctor pondered the next step, he rested his coffee on a handy knee height-table, 'Wait a second... Nurse, we're going to surgery! And homebase!' And what about when the pirate woke up? 'Well the bad news is you've lost your leg. But the good news is, Ikea had a sale on and we've got you a matching lamp!' They didn't stop there either, what about those pirate's suffering from hand-loss? 'Guess what? We've replaced your rubbishy old human hand with... wait for it... A large hook! Now you can suspend yourself in a wardrobe! Or work as a portable cloakroom!' Why didn't they develop some more useful utensils? What about bottle openers for ears? Or corkscrews for noses? Then, somewhere, there might exist a pirate with more attachments than a Swiss-Army Knife.

Vote The Rock

Earlier today I watched a BBC report on the upcoming US Election. I know my opinion on the situation is irrelevant, and I know also that it probably doesn't matter to the puppet masters who is elected. But today I saw something that genuinely unnerved me. One guy, one of the tens of thousands who have lost their jobs during this presidency, incidentally contributing to the highest job loss rate since the 1920's, said, and I quote, "Bush is like one of us. I reckon I could have a conversation with Bush. I don't like John Kerry. He wears a suit." Oh my goodness. This is the most powerful country in the world! And people don't want to elect someone smarter than themselves!? What is going on? Surely though, this is just one isolated individual in one isolated incident. Isn't it?

I'm staring out the world

'Forgetting you is like
Breathing water
There's got to be a better way' -- Stina Nordenstam

I wanted to introduce you to the breathtakingly breathless wonder of Stina, but, well, it's a little difficult to be honest. It's not that she's slightly inaccessible, though she is, and it's not that she's a bit of an acquired taste, though she is. It's just that well, her music is indescribable. How can I convince you of the beauty of something that at times sounds like a trumpet-backed cat wailing. Like cheese and jam on toast, it really shouldn't work, but it just does. It's like listening to leaves rustling, with a brass section. No wait, it's what sorbet would sound like if you plugged it in. Umm... it's, it's, well her voice is so soft and wispy, like being stroked with a feather accompanied by bluesy bladerunner style Vangelis. I was going to post some of her lyrics, but they're either pretty bleak ('So this is goodbye / So this is how you say it / This is the time it takes you / It didn't take you a lot now did it?'), or pretty strange ('I finally fell in the black hole / between your sentences') So instead, I'll just say step out of the boat and buy her new album. Or her previous one. Actually they're all amazing, so order the back catalogue; I'm on commission.

Sole Searching

Why do women place so much importance on the shoes I choose? Apparently it's a really big deal. This is another one of those secret female conspiracies to keep me single isn't it? What is it about footwear that reveals so much? Do leather uppers reflect the hunter-gatherer instinct in you? Does wearing suede in the rainy season show you don't think things through? Maybe sandals betray the optimist, slip-ons expose the loafer, and running shoes prove you like the chase? And of course you know what they say about men with big feet?
They make good clowns.

Hollywords II: The Web Spreads

Currently, Google searches 4.2 billion pages. As we speak millions of new sites are being created in every corner of the globe. Literally, millions. Old pages lie forgotten, slowly piling up like discarded crisp packets in a canteen of crisp-loving crisp-eaters. The Internet is exquisitely enormous, bigger than Scarborough even, and growing exponentially every nano-second; it's only a matter of time until every grain of sand has it's own homepage. Diana, a friend of mine and winner of the Limited Edition Signed Bon Jovi Air Guitar, suggested Hollywords to her colleague at work. Her enterprising buddy then posted it as a challenge on b3ta.com. As you can see, the results are more than overwhelming. I'm so, so, sooo relieved to see that there is a whole army of people out there with lower boredom thresholds than me, and the time to do something about it. I must find these people; seek them out and bring them together, united around one sole cause! Think of all we could never achieve! Any suggestions?

Not for the squeamish

At home we have a separate bathroom and toilet, which is very good for when someone takes an extra long bath, but very bad for that moment when you're in the bathroom, you've locked the door, jumped in the shower, turned on the water and realised you really really need to pee. There's no pain like it in the world!! And whoever designs the bathroom layout always places that sink invitingly close. You're looking at it thinking 'Well I've only got to wash my face in it... it might be cleansing?' Next time you find yourself in that position, point the water at your face; you'll spray like an elephant! I don't know what it is, but something about that water on your face makes your bladder burst like a dam. Or, if you don't want to do it to yourself, next time you're having a shower with your partner, sharing a tender, loving moment... spray them!! 'Ha ha! Made you piss! ... eurrggh'

Hollywords

This is the deal: Change the meaning of the film title by adding just one word. The best entry wins an air guitar! Thanks go to Jamie Haith for introducing me to this particular life-waster.
Here are my top ten to start you off...

10 - On Deadly Ground Force
9 - Going Commando
8 - Piledriving Miss Daisy
7 - Carrie On
6 - The Shoe Shining
5 - Emma Dale
4 - Dennis The Phantom Menace
3 - Last Apple Tango in Paris
2 - Rambo Peep
1 - The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly Duckling

Unbelievable

How do you know you believe something? I believe in God, but sometimes I go through periods of quite deep, dark, bleak doubt. The other day I was sitting in my conservatory jumping between polar opposites of conviction; one moment convinced the construction of a fabricated roof over my head proved beyond question the inevitability of a supreme being, the next denying the possibility of any being outside the sensible because I couldn't feel my toes in the cold. All I found though was that the more I focused on the 'super' natural, the more blurred the 'natural' became. How can I prove the existence of this table? Because I can see it and I can touch it and experience it. But experience is so black; sight is the only 'light' sensation, apart from that there is nothing, just whispers in the dark. If I couldn't see, all of my experiences would be take place in a uniform darkness, although I would physically be moving through different space. But from whose point of view? Not mine! I'm grasping here. What I'm trying to say is this: when I'm not in France, I find it incredibly difficult to believe in France. I'm still only partially convinced that at this exact moment in time, there are people in Australia, stretching themselves like cats on their sweat-soaked matresses as they wake to yet another swealtering sun-scorched day. And I'm quite firmly skeptical about the possibility of a Penguin sledding around on some snow in the middle of Antartica on his way to look for some fish. Actually, I'm quite skeptical about Penguins full stop. But all of this exists! It's really real! So I guess I'm trying to say I don't doubt my belief in God as much as I doubt my belief in belief. It's times like these when you start to understand why Nietzsche, Sartre and Hegel were so blue. There comes a time, it seems, when the only healthy option is to run outside chasing squirrels.

You define me

I'm trying to get a new word into the English language. Delia's managed it, so why can't I? My journey starts here, so please spread the word, like butter (or marmite if you're into that sort of thing).

Guy-fi: A film or films in the action/adventure/popcorn-munching genre, more suited to male viewers with detachable intellects. Realism, emotional involvement and brunettes are all noticeable by their absence. Special attention should be paid to large explosions, protracted chase sequences and spontaneous love scenes as these represent the slowly diverging dialectic of the film's examination of what exactly it takes for one to Kick Some Ass. Examples include, but are not limited to, Terminator 2, Top Gun and Ernest Goes To Camp.

iContact

I'm huddled in my favourite top, waiting to board a train at Baker Street. It arrives, and as I sit down, the girl opposite smiles at me. Unquestionably and directly at me. I don't know what to do. She is around my age, possibly a couple of years older, Greek, black hair, beautiful large brown eyes, striking, not stunning but definitely very attractive. She's soft. That is the word I'd use to describe her, soft. I'm not sure why, soft focus maybe. Maybe not. All the while she continues to look at me, so I try to smile back, forcing my face into distortment. I manage a look halfway between grimace and constipation. I quickly look down. A few seconds pass and I wonder whether she is still looking. I look up and she smiles at me again. I smile back, slightly more relaxed this time, and casually flip open my incredibly impressively intellectual book. I can't concentrate on what I'm reading, and I begin to convince myself I can feel her gaze brushing over me, again and again. I raise my eyes, and this time she gives me a huge wide sunbeam of a grin. My heart starts pounding. What is going on? Why is this affecting me so much? I laugh and try to beam back. Although not a complete success, I think it may have endeared me ever so slightly. I put my book down, and we continue to alternate gazes, following each other's eyes as both of us trace shapes around the carriage. I'm burning up here, and I have no idea what to do. Should I ask her for a drink? That would be stupid, I don't even know her. But something about her eyes, and the way she is looking so intently at me, or into me, makes me wonder. This is very weird; I think I'm being weird again. Then at Green Park she gets off. The doors beep and hiss and I am alone again. The train pulls out and a small boy begins running along the platform, keeping pace with my carriage. As he gets faster his hood falls off his face, and his ruffled hair flaps around, until he pulls up and clutches for breath, laughing all the while. Did I miss something?

Toxotes Jaculatrix

I'm going to end my animal appreciations by giving a mention to the Archer Fish, undoubtedly the Batman of the fish world. Who's crazy idea was this? A fish that eats flies by shooting them out of the sky with jets of water! It's just completely unfeasibly unbelievable; no one could have predicted this, it's like finding a gerbil cooking omlettes, or a platypus playing chess. God most definitely has a sense of humor, and a lot of time on his hands. The archer fish must be looking smugly around at all the other underwater daughters and wondering why they got such a bum deal. Talk about superpowers; they're camouflaged so as not to alert the flies, they can squirt a jet of water over 2m, accurately to 1.5m, and they can leap 12inches into the air! These babies are the Inspector Gadget of the aquatic world! The most impressive feat of these fish is that they take into account the refraction of the light passing through water as they aim. They're not even born with this skill, they have to learn this arithmetic ability, which I'm sure they do as I've never seen one with a calculator. Maybe we should see if they can handle a GCSE maths paper?

I'm telling you for the last time

Hey, I have a very special announcement to make: On November 1st, Seinfeld is released on DVD!! And if any sentence deserved a double exclamation, it's that one. That's not even a month away now! Just imagine, we'll be able to watch Jerry and his friends whenever we want; all day, every day, for breakfast, lunch and tea. Life doesn't get much better than that! Sure it's only the first three seasons, and it'll take a while before 'the yada yada', 'the soup nazi' and 'frogger' make it on to our shelves, but it'll still be a landmark moment in our lives. And for those that don't currently dig it, well now is you're chance to experience the greatest sitcom of all time. Imagine the funniest show in the world, turned up to eleven. Therefore please note, anyone wishing to contact me around the beginning of November, be prepared for voicemail and a long wait.

Timesplitters

A year ago, whilst sitting in my old flat pondering, seated on the most comfortable sofa in the world (with reclining action), I hear a tick. Tick Tick Tick. Thinking I was reliving Peter Pan, or almost certainly hearing things, I ploughed through the house seeking out the source of the beat. I stopped clocks, removed batteries, pulled out plugs, all to no avail. Everywhere I went, if I listened hard enough, I could hear the tick. Eventually, thinking it was up or downstairs, I went to put on my shoes to investigate further, when I noticed my wristwatch. I had had this puppy for about two years at that point, and it's the nicest watch I've ever owned. I bought it while shopping for a suit in Hugo Boss, and it's some of the best money I've ever spent. The only regret I have is that I had to buy it for myself, which was quite a poignant realisation. Anyway, I hold it up to my ear, and yep, tick tick tick. Two years, and I had just never been quiet enough to hear the tick.

Who needs enemies?

I've been meaning to say this for a while. And it's all I want to say today; no razor sharp observations on life, no amusing anecdotes on meeting z-list celebrities, not even a quote from a quirky author. So here goes: I love my friends. So much. And that's all I wanna say, I really love you guys. If you're reading this and you're my friend, I love you man. If you know me and you're not sure whether we're friends, well we are, and I love you too man. If you're reading this and I don't know you, well I'm sure we'd get on great! So I love you too! Over the last couple of weeks, I've just come to realise I know so many great, talented, funny, wise and patient people... And I just wanted you all to know that I know that. Thanks for everything guys, you Rock! I'm off to make a sandwich now... mmm Banana and Crisp sandwich...

Back to School

Yay! Yay! It's a new month! Hey! Hey! I love these new month posts. They overwhelm me with the possibilities of possibilities, anything could await me over the next 31 days. Anything at all! By this time next month I could be pregnant! Or expecting at least. Add to the new-month excitement that I started drama school yesterday, and you can see how I can hardly contain my Shreddies! Waaa! Although why school terms don't begin in the spring I'll never understand, as that's traditionally the start of new life; lambs being born, flowers blooming, the tax year. So anyway, I'm now enrolled in Central School of Speech and Drama, and in one year I shall be a Master of Performance. Officially. Yay! Agh! What have I done?