I'd like to dedicate today's blog title to my cousin Angela in honour of the best karaoke story ever!
I had a really weird dream last night that Adam and I went to see Michael Nesmith but Manchester had been taken over by zombies and we were trapped in a taxi with a zombie taxi driver. It was scary. I have no idea where it came from either, I am not a fan of the zombie on any level, and have never watched anything involving said mythical baddie ever in my life. Except an epsiode of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. called 'The Very Important Zombie Affair' and an episode of Gilligan's Island called 'Voodoo'. But in each case the zombie situation wasn't particularly threatening, least of all from Professor Roy Hinkley.
In fairness, I get that sort of 'undead' vibe from Manchester every time I visit the place.
And I have to say, he may unquestionably be very close to the top of my Favourite People in Existence list and he is an artistic, literary and musical Peter Perfect - but Mr Leslie screams like a girl when confronted by a zombie asking him for his taxi fare. Just sayin'.
Tell you what though, if any zombies even attempt to ruin my night seeing Nesmith, they'll be messing with the wrong girl...
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. Manchester. *shudder* Let's get out of there.
I can't say the weekend has been particularly interesting. The rain was so bad on Friday (as previously documented) that I had to postpone Zara and Nicky coming to visit as Leyland was absolutely flooded, so Saturday went from being potentially the most exciting day of the year so far to being spent doing housework and glaring disapprovingly at the rain every time I looked out the window.
In the end I gave up and watched the Bourne Trilogy. I do love the Bourne films. I'm not a fan of Matt Damon, particularly - but I do love the films. They're all very exciting and there's hardly any dialogue to screw up, but there's loads of Jason Bourne looking all tortured and then going off killing people with biros and stuff - and the car chase in The Bourne Supremacy is possibly the best one in cinematic history. I can't wait till The Bourne Legacy comes out, it'll be more of the same (hey, if it ain't broke etc!) but with Jeremy Renner AND Edward Norton on the screen at the same time!! Eeep!! I'm far more excited about that than the Spider-Man and Batman films put together. Which sounds terrible coming from a huge fan of both Spider-Man and Batman, but there you go. Don't get me started on my trepidation for the new Spider-Man film. There's only one Peter Parker/Spider-Man and that's Tobey Maguire.
I know, I had a similar feeling about the Edward Norton/Mark Ruffalo/Hulk/Bruce Banner issue, and I was proved completely wrong there - but Spider-Man is my all-time favourite superhero and it genuinely didn't feel like Tobey Maguire ever needed to act that role. He just was Peter/Spidey. Say what you like about the Sam Raimi films, but they were all very special to me (especially Spider-Man 2) and it's going to take something spectacular to win me over. Judging by the reviews so far, I'm not going to build my hopes up.
2012 - it's an interesting year for cinema and no mistake!
I did overdo the Synnage on Friday - but I had spent the entire day being rained on and thought a couple of chuff-off brandies would have a medicinal benefit and stop me catching pneumonia. So far, so good - I've not even had a sniffle yet. So there must be something in it... I've been very good on the diet front since Friday, though. I've had a will of iron. I will lose that half-pound this week if it flippin' kills me!!!
I might have some exciting news on Wednesday. Why don't you join me then and find out?
Showing posts with label colds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label colds. Show all posts
Monday, 25 June 2012
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.
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