Bobby's big hair

In late but few words before I hit the sack. Have spent evening at customer event and brain is closing down. Highlights of evening:

1 - meeting person who tested socks for a living;

2 - running (completely by chance) into someone who has been avoiding me for a few months that I really needed to sort something out with;

3 - Spending part of the evening barefoot in a crowded London bar (as my shoes managed to cut one of my heels to ribbons during the day), stepping on bit of glass and cutting foot (yes I know it was as stupid thing to do but really, my heel was bleeding loads). Come to think of it this was more of a lowlight;

4 - chatting to someone who had exactly the same hair as Patrick Duffy in his Dallas heydays. I even found him quite fanciable - only because he reminded me of the lovely Bobby when I was a young impressionable girl that watched far too much TV. Surely Bobby was one of the most fanciable TV icons of the 80s?*

Hands up: who fancied Bobby / Pam from Dallas? The choice of the two *must* cover everyone of both sexes.

I can't imagine many people fancied JR, Cliff Barnes (surely not, or the other Ewing brother - Ray?); Sue Ellen and her pissed up sneer; though not sure about Charlene (is that her name?) - after all she did have an enormous chest that she seemed to 'parade' somewhat even though it was already equal to her total height, and she seemed to flick her hair about alot. Then again I suppose they all did - even Bobby.

Night x

*Aside from Bill Oddie, don't even ask me about that fascination - I'm not sure where it began, with the Goodies possibly - I know it was when I was very young, just like SG spending part of her early years kissing Barry Manilow's face.

Well, the drill wasn't as exciting as I thought it would be. Highlights: it makes lots of noise; I had the first-time experience of buying rawplugs (number 8 drill bit, y'know) and at first scared the bejesus out of myself by being convinced that I was going to drill into an electrical cable*, or just stright through the wall to the the outside world.

Turns out I needn't have bothered -my wall is crumbling so much that I could have made these holes with the handle of a teaspoon. Back to the drawing board as I work out how to proceed complete with pieces of wood, glue and plaster? ....

* Even though I was drilling the window lintel and have it on good authority that there will be no electricty cables

Have B&D drill, will..er...drill (and possibly maim)

I really need to fix the blinds that feel down in my flat (since I bought the place it's started to fall apart - why does that happen?) and there's absolutely no reason why I can't fix some of the bloody* things myself: I'm a capable human being, and I'm sure the possession of ovaries can't stop me from recognising one end of a screwdriver to another.

So, I have invested in a Black & Decker CD18CA Cordless Drill (18V). Well worth the forty-something quid - well, I hope it is - it has features such as a keyless metal chuck, the capacity of 35mm in wood (sounds like some blokes I have met), comfortable styling and a variable speed for 'gentle start and full control (hang on, hang on - this is all starting to sound decidedly dodgy) and it has 5 torque settings... erm, I'm sure that's as many as I'll need. For now.

Think of my following post (plan to spend tomorrow morning fixing blinds) as an alternative to LC's Random Male Vanity Product Review *series, though with less wit /effort, fewer comparisons (I'm not going to buy several power drills just to tell folks which is the best) and no re-hydrating micro proteins.

As I become DIY girl I will, naturally, stop buying/looking longingly though shop windows at winter boots, bags and be-jewelled fripperies and instead will know where B&Q is. And own stud cutters, circular saws and belt sanders. It's a whole new *exciting* world - surely?

* I may regret using the word 'bloody' if anything goes wrong while I am teaching myself how to drill things

** I did contemplate calling the series the 'Female Power Tool Product Review', but it may be somewhat misleading.

"Dial M For Merthyr"

Many thanks (diolch yn fawr) to PF for sending me this list of Welsh film remakes.

-9½ Leeks
-Trefforest Gump
-Cwmando
-The Lost Boyos
-An American Werewolf in Powys
-Huw Dares Gwyneth
-Dai Hard
-The Wizard of Oswestry
-Cool Hand Look-you
-Sheepless in Seattle
-The Eagle has Llandudno
-The Magnificent Severn
-Haverfordwest Was Won
-Austin Powys
-The Magic Rhonddabout
-Independence Dai
-The Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch That Time Forgot
-Seven Brides from Seven Sisters
-The Bridge on the River Wye
-A Beautiful Mind-you
-The Welsh Patient
-Look You Back in Bangor
-Evans Can Wait
-A Fishguard Called Rhondda
-Where Eagles Aberdare
-Dial M For Merthyr (my personal favourite from this list)

Note to PF

Aw go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on....

I must ...

A varied weekend - G's birthday in Clapham and a day with Al in the outer reaches of London (Uxbridge). Al is one of my dearest friends - and the sort of person that makes you open the scary-looking mail you've been trying to hide under the cat litter tray. A day with Al always makes me want to spring clean my life a bit. So, my list of immediate 'musts':

HOME LIFE
My flat roof is leaking again - I must get it sorted properly this time

HEALTH
I've been ill for over a week and no matter how much Benylin* I drink I don't feel any better - I must go to the doctors (and must not smoke anymore)

Having just committed to a ski holiday in Whistler [note to self: must check bank balance before doing such things], there's no way I'm going to (a) get into my ski gear or (b) survive on any Canadian slopes unless I start exercising. It's no use, I must dust off my gym membership card and start exercising

WORK
I must do my expenses (boring but true)

Well, I suppose at this point I must get on with my day. Though I have to admit I'm really not in the mood for a Monday morning.

* It is 5% volume ethanol, and not a bad tipple

For anyone who's ever won. For anyone who's ever lost. And for everyone who's still in there trying....

Er, you may (or your memory may have blocked it out) remember this as the tagline for the er, classic* 'Working Girl'. One of those things (alongside The Breakfast Club and every episode of Moonlighting / Dempsey and Makepeace) that had a deep impact on me in my formative years. Though I can't for the life of me remember why.

So, I tracked down a copy, found some unwilling company and forced them to watch it with me (they may not admit it but they were hooked after seconds, though they almost made a bolt for the door when Carly Simon's rousing theme song started up).

Well, I still don't know why I liked it as a kid (and I'm sure at the time I didn't find it funny) but I haven't laughed quite so much for a long time - from the moment Joan Cusac's** character appeared in the opening shot. Unbelievable gravity-defying backcombed, hairspray-laden - words fail me. (You wonder what would have happened had she gone anywhere near a naked flame during filming) and she wears all of the most vibrant shades of eyeshadow known to womankind - all at once. (Little wonder Harrison looks like he's putting up some resistance).

Have taken some top 'Working Girl' tips. Of course there's the problem of whether I want to take advice from Signourney as the venomous idea-stealing boss with a shabby obsession with fame, power and money or Melanie's cutsey girl-next-door brimming-with-ideas...

Anyhow, some starting points for the 'The New Work Me':

1. Backcomb my hair and buy 2,300 cans of Wella ShockWaves Ultra Strong Power Volumising Spray
2. Invest in some shoulderpads, perhaps some leopardskin too.
3. Start wearing really scary eyeshadow - several bright colours, all at once
4. Learn how to speak German (badly)
5. Look colleagues in the eye with a steely gaze and say things such as "That's not going to be a problem is it?"
6. Always wear high heels to work [I'm quite tall already - and generally only wear heels if I'm in a threatening mood - take note if you know me]
7. Buy a snooker table-sized desk. Or perhaps seeing as some folk are on holiday, steal their desks and fuse them to mine. Strut around my new huge desk.
8. Smoke an eighth of a cigarette while sitting at my new huge desk
9. March around the office when I turn up at work and make sure that everyone is silent when I walk in

10. Apologies to UC for only coming up with nine things. Letting the list side down, I know.

Next - well, other onscreen role models for women office workers. Not overly inspiring:Bridget Jones - scatty yet endearing chracter led by a desire to lose weight and find a man - er, no comment. Dolly P in Nine to Five???

* I say classic, though really there's very little of the 'class' element in this. So more of an 'ic'.

** Yes, John's sister. I bet she's really sick of people asking her that. She won an Oscar for this supporting actress role.

Lust and lager (not in that order)

Signs that you've had too much to drink.

1. You wake up at 2am, fully-clothed on your bed
2. Your bedroom light is on
3. You have a ball of mozzarella at the end of your bed*
4. You decide by 4.30am that it would be a great idea to go to the office as you are in too much of a state to read and you decided to get rid of your TV set a few weeks ago
5. You can't get dressed without falling over
6. You lock yourself out of your own office

All in all not the best start to the day. On the upside though I had (at least in the first part of it, which is much clearer in my mind) a fantastic afternoon out with Gordon Gecko (who manages to be greatly entertaining company whilst raving about things such as the secretive Plunge Protection Team).

Gordon had to abandon me for another appointment and I was about to head home when who should rear his not-so-ugly head but the once lustworthy P. A great ex-drinking partner and the Man Who Broke My Heart. Well, it was only polite to stay and get totally smashed with him.

On reflection this morning P is no longer the person I lust after and my heart is fully repaired - though the rest of my body hates me.

* No, I'm not sure about this either. I've never been the get-drunk-and-buy-a-lump-of-cheese type. Worrying.

Bloody motherfucking lightweight assholes

On someone else's recommendation (not to mention the fact that they bought the tickets), I went to go and see Martha Wainwright last night - brilliant despite one or two men sneaking past *fem-security and diluting the oestrogen levels in the room. On the downside I have to admit that I'm never very comfortable at concerts where people stand still and I was home far too early. Well, that'll teach me to go out with lightweights.

Martha was fantastic and mesmorising (the person next to me had their eyes shut during some of the songs, I think the lyrics deeply affected them). I kept my eyes open for the whole thing - which reminded me of Alanis Morissette crossed with Edie Brickell.

PS Martha's angriest (and hence best-known) song was penned about her father - not about the fact that she had to go home early.

* Sounds like that ill-fated attempt of female condoms. Pure madness.

Pre-Christmas things to give up

1. Alcohol
2. Wheat
3. Sugar
4. Dairy
5. Not going to the gym
6. Smoking

Hmm... it's not going to be a very fun November. And I'm meant to be going out for dinner tonight- in a gastropub. Perhaps I'll start tomorrow...

Pen blwydd hapus, nain bach*

Just a quick note to say slightly belated birthday to 'nain bach' - seen here sporting this season's over-sized sweater (this was taken on a family holiday to Paris).

I joined in the celebrations by having my face painted and eating my bodyweight in Wotsits and 'Party Rings' with sixteen small children in a small Welsh village. Not *that* different to work, well apart from the face painting.

* Happy Birthday, little nephew **

** I don't get to use what little Welsh I know that much, so forgive me. Expect more after next weekend when I'll be spending a few days with other folks from that side of the Severn Bridge at the London Welsh Centre (aka the 'Canolfan Cymry Llundain'...).

What's wrong with this?

The White Stripes - the most sexually explosive band ever. In Alexandra Palace* - the sort of place that makes the Boeing manufacturing plant look cosy / ideal for concert acoustics.

It's simply wrong and although I think Jack and Meg are fantastic the venue was unsuitable (not sure what Alexandra Palace is suitable for - perhaps it's worth a trip by daylight?). And it's a pain in the arse to get to / back from.

Might find out other more suitable venues they are touring and see if I can get a ticket. Second time lucky perhaps, even if I have to go to Waunarlwydd working men's club to see them play.**

* AKA 'Ally Pally' which for some reason is a nickname that really annoys me
** Somehow doubt they have this on the tour plan

Home horror video

Met some friends this week who are genetically wallowing in the exitement of their first born child, G. After the compulsory holding of the little 'un and a suitable amount of ooing and ahhing, I was offered a cup of coffee while I watched the video. Video I asked?

Yes indeedy - (and anyone with a quesy stomach can leave at this point) - they took a video in the birthing room. Starting with an ER-esque crowd of green-coated and masked strangers shouting "push"* while all peering, well, up inside my friend. Then capturing her pain as she suffered contractions. Then the finale as the 'bump' went from being part her to hey presto a baby and her stomach returning to normal (okay not to normal but it was like a giant balloon being deflated) and then the father cutting the umbilical cord (amazingly while he was still filming with his other hand). All caught on home video.

As a person who thinks of wedding videos as a bit unneccesary, this really takes the biscuit (rusk?). Urgh, suddenly I'm not hungry anymore.

* At one point one of the nurses changed from shouting "push" to "I don't want to be in your video", which made me laugh out loud.

Ahoy little donkey

Yes, I dragged several other human beings to an exhibition just because the promotional poster had a donkey in a boat on it.

Met up with group of old (becoming truer in every sense of the word) friends from uni for breakfast and to go to an exhibition. I can't believe we manage to meet up on a Sunday morning and to do anything vaguely cultural - though we did go for a drink a lunchtime, so not all past behaviour is lost.

I don't think I'll get to choose the 'thing we do' next time we meet up - we can't do anything that is vaguely pretentious as we relapse all too easily into 18 year olds even though we are suddenly somehow almost double that age*. Parts were good (on at the Hayward Gallery on the Southbank), called 'Universal Experience' - about tourism and the impact of humans visiting/ recording places we visit.

Highlight (apart from said poster with water-bourne donkey) was a film called 'Cannibal Tours', a documentary about a group of Westerners on a trip to Papua New Guinea to visit a tribe that used to practice cannibalism (no, no-one got eaten - which what I was hoping for). It included cringing scenes of Americans taking photos of the tribe, shouting at them to 'look this way', 'smile', 'stand over there' etc while the subjects looked really out of sorts. The documentary makers has an interview with a tribal elder who couldn't quite understand why all the photos were needed (saying that: he didn't comment on the camera). He was genuinely confused by this obsession of people to take photos of him and his community (while one tribe member was being interviwed by the film makers there were Americans and Europeans behind him taking photos and commenting, in 'Creature Comfort' style).

Mig - You'd enjoy this. Some great photos and some thought-provoking stuff (as long as you're not with a bunch of wanabee 18 year olds). On until 6 Dec.

Then I met T in the afternoon before going to meet Popilita - Argentina's next supermodel - for a cup of tea. Popilta introduced me to a strange yet fascinating Canadian-Argentian bloke who has been in London for two days and I *hope* I get to meet him again (she says plotting how she will make this happen)... sounds like a better plan than speed dating.


* Good grief. Maths really can be quite alarming.

A huge gaping chasm in my life?

Well, after umming and ahhing about it for a few weeks /months I have taken the plunge - where my TV was there is now just a large gaping hole.*

PF thinks it's grounds for being locked up. My sister thinks I will in my typcial all or nothing fashion (her words) either last for the rest of my life or three hours. She said she'd pine for Jamie Oliver and Trinny & Susannah - sentiments I don't really share: I can't stand the fat-lipped mockney cook, and I don't need to watch T & S as my family provide me with plenty of feedback (everytime I wear a polo neck jumper they all get a look of disgust while chorusing "but haven't you ever seen Trinny & Susannah?").

It's been half an hour and I've already put some washing on and for the first time since I moved in rung more than two people in succession on my home phone.

Off for fireworks party now. Must remember when I get in at 1am (quite possibly drunk) that my TV hasn't been stolen and that I am not to ring the police..

* Perhaps time for a trip to IKEA? Haven't braved the place for, er, a few weeks.
** Gordon - you're not off the hook, I still want those DVDs you promised me (gift for lickle bruv).

The best place in the world

I am completely. And utterly. In love with this place. Thanks to PF, Jac, Ian, PJ and Antonella for making it such a fun time.

What men want (£££, umbrellas and moisturisers)

Am in a state of shock. Last night I had dinner with a male friend who was moaning about the various females in his life. Apparently he has a problem with his current main female (he's one of those types that has a string of women*) as she "doesn't benefit him financially". It turns out that this isn't a moan about having to fork out for expensive meals, scanty-yet-expensive underwear or splashing out on surprise weekends away - it's the fact that she "doesn't earn a fortune nor will she".

Am shocked. Is this what the male species is after? I've never been asked to show anyone my payslips before (nor have I asked to see anyone else's payslips). I thought the y chromosome was more, well, primitive than that and motivated by desires somewhat different to financial ones. Perhaps I have underestimated it. At the same time I am genuinely shocked that one of my friends is that mercenary - (when I told him this he was surprised).

Is this part of the men-becoming-women and women-becoming-men thing - just like men using umbrellas more than women and buying more (moisturisers ) which is another trend that I have noticed?

* Nice bloke that he is, he is the sort of person you want as a friend but you'd never want to sleep with or get involved with - he can't remember the names of the last six month's worth of women let alone anyone before this, and so this string of women is inexplicable - they can't *all* be doing it for a bet

The padawan picks up where (s)he left off

I have just been encouraged by PF to buy 'Revenge of the Sith' on DVD. I am not wholly convinced by this swopping of my hard-earned cash for something that spawned Jaja Binks but am reassured that this will make me laugh and cry the same way as the first film (okay, at the time I was a tot, but I can still quite easily cry in films*) so much so that I am now quite excited about the prospect of watching it. In fact very excited.

Other moments of excitement in my life include:

- Christmas mornings (every year since I can remember - yes I know it's schmultzy but I love Christmas)

- The night before going away on holiday, or even moreso being in airport lounges

- The last day of school (around noon: just before you slunk off the grounds to burn your tie and go to the local pub)

- First day of new job / new term / meeting new customers (okay, anything new)

- Anything that involves NYC or San Francisco

- Seeing whales (no, not the place)

- Payday

Will keep you posted if George and pals live up to this expectation... the saga continues...


* Sometimes unexpectedly - I cried all the way through 'The Punisher' as I thought it was really sad that he didn't have any friends.