Happy Monday, everyone!! I know, I know - what's so happy about it?! Well, I must be honest, on this particular Monday, I can't help but agree with you. However, as with so much in life, the best way to get through it is to just fake it till you make it.
Speaking of double entendres, I went to see Pete Firman on Friday! Judging from the overwhelming response from Facebook, nobody has a clue who he is. What on earth have you all been doing on Saturday nights this year?! He's a magician and a stand-up comedian all in the same human. He was on BBC1's The Magicians. What do you mean, you didn't see it?! *facepalm* These were the men who saved people with no social life from having to endure the embarrassment that is Take Me Out on the other side!
Anyway. Mr Firman has just started a nationwide tour of his conjuring, trickery and general tight-suitedness. If he's coming to your town, go and see him. You won't regret it, I promise. You'll embarrass yourself by how impressed you are. Anyone who says they aren't impressed by magic tricks is, frankly, a liar.
As I may have mentioned previously in this blog, I have a theory that magicians are life's real superheroes. I mean, I don't think Pete can websling or has retractable claws of Adamantium or anything like that. Although he would be called The Firmanator if he was a superhero, this is already a given. But magicians can do impossible-looking things that normal human beings can't do. Even if the impossible is just a clever trick that anyone can learn - I never want to be spoiled. I like the idea of the impossible being done before my eyes. I would hate to ever feel as though I was too cool or too clever to believe in magic.
I thought that, being sat on the front row in such a tiny little room, it would be easy to see how the tricks were done or that the whole effect wouldn't be nearly as good as if I'd been a few rows back. But honestly, I was mesmerised for the entire set. His first trick was, he told us, all about the art of penetration. Before anyone gets ahead of themselves - I nearly choked on my wine - he made a handkerchief pass through a microphone stand. He purposely fluffed it and basically just avoided doing it the first couple of times, but when he did it (and luckily he repeated it a couple of times) I honestly thought my eyes were playing tricks on me! It only sounds like a little trick but it's very effective!
The plethora of innuendos and the amazing tricks just kept coming in a sort of a tirade. It was fabulous. After half an hour or so of one trick and innuendo after another, he suddenly stopped and introduced a stand-up comic to the stage named Chris Stokes. Nobody was expecting it but what a lovely surprise! He was hilarious. I had face-ache from laughing so much. I especially loved his story about owning a Thunderbirds lunchbox when he was little and, after being beaten up by some bullies in school, he actually attempted to call International Rescue. I don't think I'd ever been so disappointed when he said that they didn't turn up. That isn't the sort of apathetic, unhelpful attitude I expected from Jeff and the boys, frankly. Perhaps it was Alan's turn on duty as Space Monitor that month?? I'm absolutely convinced that Chris will be *huge*, he's just ungodly funny - and he seems like a really nice chap as well. He's also on tour at the moment, and again, if you get chance to see him, you won't regret it. It was a lovely unexpected treat for us - I'd even go and see him on purpose!!!
After a brief interval, Pete came back. Trick after trick followed, some I remembered from The Magicians, some I didn't - including a trick called The Magic Table. I think the table was actually enchanted. It just floated around the stage with the grace and agility of... well... a floating table.
I think it's only fair at this point that I talk about Andy, the Volunteer from Hell. God love him. He seemed like a nice enough bloke but I think he'd had one or six too many during the interval and was a little wobbly on his feet... It wasn't just a one-trick-and-off thing, either, he was on stage for almost the rest of the night. Bless Pete, the cheery little magical imp, he trooped on with the steely determination of a man whose only priority had turned into making sure that no tricks went wrong. I was just glad he didn't choose me, I'm infinitely more gormless, especially on no booze! The reason for keeping Andy up there for so long was that Pete's first trick involved a £20 note that he'd extracted from Andy's wallet - which he promptly set on fire!! Andy then hung around onstage, assisting on the next five or six tricks while Pete tried to distract him from the fact he'd just set fire to his taxi fare home.
I won't spoil the final trick. It was too special. Everyone went wild with adulation. I will never in a gazillion years figure that out. I have a feeling that even if Pete sat me down and explained how the trick works in minute detail, I still wouldn't get it. It completely blew my mind.
Can't speak highly enough of the show, it was a fabulous night's entertainment. It was funny, it was exciting - it was a bit dramatic - and it was completely magical. I absolutely loved it. Don't think it'll be the last time I go to see him, either.
Although next time, I'll remember to bring my voice and not be so starstruck. It's never ever happened to me before. I mean, seriously. Never. Not even when I met 3/4 of The Monkees. But I actually forgot my name for a moment. How old am I?!! Still, in my desperate attempt to not look like a giant next to him - not that he's unusually diminutive, I just happen to be an inch or so taller than him - I did manage to get a good cuddle for a photo. He's got the comfiest shoulders of any non-drummer I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. True story. Next time I'll speak. Possibly. Anyway, the point is - my tip for not looking like an absolute idiot when meeting anyone famous is definitely not "just silently grab them for a cuddle and then skip off into the night like some sort of planet-shaped fairy".
Nothing else worth mentioning happened at the weekend, although I did watch all three Spider-Man films yesterday, which was lovely. Andrew Garfield has some pretty mighty shoes to fill - for me, Tobey Maguire IS Peter Parker/Spider-Man. He played him perfectly - painfully nerdy, constantly at the brink of tears, zero people skills, a 60,000 word vocabulary and a wonderful innocence about him. I think they're going to try and make Peter a bit sexy in this new Spider-Man, and it simply won't work, I tell you!!!
Think I've bored you all enough, now. Join me on Wednesday, I'll give you a brief update on how the weight-loss is going and have a look forward to my eighth weigh-in!! Hope the llamas have recovered from last Friday's blog...!!
Showing posts with label Magicians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Magicians. Show all posts
Monday, 27 February 2012
Friday, 24 February 2012
They've Got the Hooves Like Jagger
(Title courtesy of JR Wainwright. Not to be confused with JR Hartley, the fella who wrote the book on fly fishing)
I think you know who have the hooves like Jagger. Hit it, llamas!!!
*shimmys around the room in a frenzy*
NB: Just to confirm, the llamas are only dancing. I don't want anyone to think that they've been goosestepping onstage in Munich like Jagger did in the early 60s. They're sensitive souls, my llamas, they're not a controversial breed of llama. They're all about celebratory dancing when someone loses weight. And Ricardo, my lead dancing llama, has just invested in some gold lamé leg warmers... so that might give you some sort of idea about the kind of llamas I have on my team.
I know, I know what you're saying. This kind of celebratory fiesta is a little excessive for a person who has only lost 2lbs. It's not as if I've lost 14 stone in one day (© Peter Kay). Although that'd be very helpful. Well, in the words of Jimmy Cricket, "There's more, there's more!"
I was quite pleased with myself, as you can imagine, after drinking like Oliver Reed at a lock-in on Saturday night, and also after my scary dream on Tuesday. But I was sat there, quietly minding my own business, texting everyone frantically in a "Look at me being skinny!" fashion, while everyone around me chattered among themselves. The meeting started a bit late, and Andrea the Consultant said that there were a few certificates to hand out that week, so she decided to start with the Slimmer of the Month award.
"The Slimmer of the Month lost 9 1/2 lbs this month!" she declared.
'Cor blimey, that's a lot! I wonder how much I've lost this month?' I thought, tilting my head and looking a bit gormless as I attempted to add 1 1/2 and 1 together.
"It's Heather!" she finished.
You can imagine my shock, I'm quite sure. I mean. I've been whinging about not losing enough, about not losing fast enough and generally about the fact that it's now been seven weeks and I'm not yet slim enough to be Catherine Zeta Jones' body double. And yet, there I was, trudging along at a slow and steady 'losing between one and two pounds a week' manner - and it's little ol' me that gets Slimmer of the Month! *excited jig*
I think you know who have the hooves like Jagger. Hit it, llamas!!!
*shimmys around the room in a frenzy*
NB: Just to confirm, the llamas are only dancing. I don't want anyone to think that they've been goosestepping onstage in Munich like Jagger did in the early 60s. They're sensitive souls, my llamas, they're not a controversial breed of llama. They're all about celebratory dancing when someone loses weight. And Ricardo, my lead dancing llama, has just invested in some gold lamé leg warmers... so that might give you some sort of idea about the kind of llamas I have on my team.
I know, I know what you're saying. This kind of celebratory fiesta is a little excessive for a person who has only lost 2lbs. It's not as if I've lost 14 stone in one day (© Peter Kay). Although that'd be very helpful. Well, in the words of Jimmy Cricket, "There's more, there's more!"
I was quite pleased with myself, as you can imagine, after drinking like Oliver Reed at a lock-in on Saturday night, and also after my scary dream on Tuesday. But I was sat there, quietly minding my own business, texting everyone frantically in a "Look at me being skinny!" fashion, while everyone around me chattered among themselves. The meeting started a bit late, and Andrea the Consultant said that there were a few certificates to hand out that week, so she decided to start with the Slimmer of the Month award.
"The Slimmer of the Month lost 9 1/2 lbs this month!" she declared.
'Cor blimey, that's a lot! I wonder how much I've lost this month?' I thought, tilting my head and looking a bit gormless as I attempted to add 1 1/2 and 1 together.
"It's Heather!" she finished.
You can imagine my shock, I'm quite sure. I mean. I've been whinging about not losing enough, about not losing fast enough and generally about the fact that it's now been seven weeks and I'm not yet slim enough to be Catherine Zeta Jones' body double. And yet, there I was, trudging along at a slow and steady 'losing between one and two pounds a week' manner - and it's little ol' me that gets Slimmer of the Month! *excited jig*
¯Nice and easy does it - ev'ry tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmme!!!¯
Even more excitingly, the timeline thing on my weight-loss planner has changed dramatically. I am now looking to achieve my target by the end of October. But I'll certainly be well on the way by the beginning of August. I did say last week or the week before that I knew August would be a bit of a big ask, so having October to aim for is a lot less disheartening than the middle of April next year!
So, everything seems good again. I'm really happy with yesterday. I know losing 2lbs a week is never likely to break any records, but if it gets me to where I want to be, I'm delighted with that. From now on I will adopt the mindset of Auntie Heath (the Diet Lama menioned a few weeks ago - still not to be confused with either the Dalai Lama or, indeed, my dancing llamas) and think that *any* loss is a great result.
Remind me of that on weeks where I've been really good and only lost half a pound...!!
So. Tonight, Rachael and I are going to see Pete Firman at King George's Hall in Blackburn. Blackburn is probably not the most glamorous of places, but tonight it will be filled with magic - and comedy, as the man who has been dubbed 'the poster boy for magic comedy in the UK' comes to town!! So excited. I mean. I don't think I could be more excited if I tried. It'll be a great night - I just hope that he doesn't look our way when he decides he needs a volunteer for a trick, I would literally die of shame... and then send Rachael...!!
I hope you all have a really exciting weekend jam-packed with frivolity. Join me again on Monday for a full round-up of tonight's frivolities and a look to another exciting week ahead!!
Monday, 6 February 2012
Ev'ry Day I'm Snuffling...
The dreaded lurgi has come upon me, folks. Eeeeeeeeeeeeee YIKKABOO!!
Okay fine, I wasn't trapped in an episode of The Goon Show, and I shall stop quoting and referencing things that most of you are likely unacquainted with. After all - I have, in fact, only got a cold.
That's another thing that historically doesn't help diets. I can never remember if it's 'starve a fever, feed a cold', or 'feed a fever, starve a cold', so I always feed both - just to be on the safe side. A cold on a weekend and I'm amazed I didn't consume my body weight in ice-cream. Because I could've, quite happily. After all, I've got some unopened Aldi's version of Ben & Jerry's Phish Phood (which is actually nicer than Ben & Jerry's! It's true. I don't lie about important things like this!) in the freezer that's been calling my name since I bought it on Christmas Eve!!
The thing is, and this is why I can never deal with having a cold - if your head is full of cold-type-coldness, you can't breathe. I don't mind being poorly so long as I can breathe in the usual manner. I don't think that's an unreasonable request. But food isn't as yummy when you can't breathe and it's somehow far more of an effort to eat on such occasions. Wainwright Mansions has been a very snuffly place, Jo's full of a cold too. In fact I have a sneaky suspicion that between her and my colleague who has been sniffling and coughing with gay abandon for the past week, it was always inevitable that I was going to get this thing. Hmph.
So, my weekend wasn't really very action packed as I did spend most of it feeling extremely sorry for myself. I mean, televisually, I had a corker. The Magicians (Oh, Pete Firman! How do I love thee? Let me count the ways! I'll start with your epically tight 60s style suits...!) was great. I'd hate to know how magic tricks work, I'm quite happy to think that it really is magic - like in Asgard (where Thor comes from, in case you weren't sure), where magic and science are the same thing! I've decided that magicians are the closest things in real life to superheroes. It's true.
I dragged myself out of my sick bed yesterday to go to Mum and Dad's to do a bit of ironing for them. Watched all but the last 10 minutes of the second episode of the second series of Sherlock, which I hadn't seen first time round. There was a *lot* of camera time spent panning dramatically around Benedict Cumberbatch, who was standing on the edge of a rock face, looking a mixture of pensive and grumpy, with his hair blowing in the wind and his coat billowing about behind him. Pretty sure it didn't add anything to the plot. In fact, it was blatantly just some sort of ploy to buoy up the ratings by making the whole thing seem more romanticised than it actually was and no doubt to appeal to the Bronte brigade who like the thought of grumpy chaps brooding on hillsides. I saw right through it, of course. Saw right through it - and welcomed it!! *swoon* No idea how it ends - don't spoil it for me!!
So, the main points from the weekend:
Okay fine, I wasn't trapped in an episode of The Goon Show, and I shall stop quoting and referencing things that most of you are likely unacquainted with. After all - I have, in fact, only got a cold.
That's another thing that historically doesn't help diets. I can never remember if it's 'starve a fever, feed a cold', or 'feed a fever, starve a cold', so I always feed both - just to be on the safe side. A cold on a weekend and I'm amazed I didn't consume my body weight in ice-cream. Because I could've, quite happily. After all, I've got some unopened Aldi's version of Ben & Jerry's Phish Phood (which is actually nicer than Ben & Jerry's! It's true. I don't lie about important things like this!) in the freezer that's been calling my name since I bought it on Christmas Eve!!
The thing is, and this is why I can never deal with having a cold - if your head is full of cold-type-coldness, you can't breathe. I don't mind being poorly so long as I can breathe in the usual manner. I don't think that's an unreasonable request. But food isn't as yummy when you can't breathe and it's somehow far more of an effort to eat on such occasions. Wainwright Mansions has been a very snuffly place, Jo's full of a cold too. In fact I have a sneaky suspicion that between her and my colleague who has been sniffling and coughing with gay abandon for the past week, it was always inevitable that I was going to get this thing. Hmph.
So, my weekend wasn't really very action packed as I did spend most of it feeling extremely sorry for myself. I mean, televisually, I had a corker. The Magicians (Oh, Pete Firman! How do I love thee? Let me count the ways! I'll start with your epically tight 60s style suits...!) was great. I'd hate to know how magic tricks work, I'm quite happy to think that it really is magic - like in Asgard (where Thor comes from, in case you weren't sure), where magic and science are the same thing! I've decided that magicians are the closest things in real life to superheroes. It's true.
I dragged myself out of my sick bed yesterday to go to Mum and Dad's to do a bit of ironing for them. Watched all but the last 10 minutes of the second episode of the second series of Sherlock, which I hadn't seen first time round. There was a *lot* of camera time spent panning dramatically around Benedict Cumberbatch, who was standing on the edge of a rock face, looking a mixture of pensive and grumpy, with his hair blowing in the wind and his coat billowing about behind him. Pretty sure it didn't add anything to the plot. In fact, it was blatantly just some sort of ploy to buoy up the ratings by making the whole thing seem more romanticised than it actually was and no doubt to appeal to the Bronte brigade who like the thought of grumpy chaps brooding on hillsides. I saw right through it, of course. Saw right through it - and welcomed it!! *swoon* No idea how it ends - don't spoil it for me!!
So, the main points from the weekend:
- I didn't eat too much. I've felt rotten so I've really not been in the mood for overnoshing of any kind. This is a good thing, really. No diets were broken. Or even bent.
- Magicians are real life superheroes. They can teleport. Or at least they can make you believe they can teleport, or indeed teleport other people, which is almost the same thing. And they can do mad crazed things with ordinary playing cards!!!
- If you're making a film or a television show and have a few extra minutes to fill in - make sure you can find a convenient hill to stick your main character on and tell him to pull his grumpiest face. It'll take you from a good show to a BAFTA nomination faster than you can blink.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)