Is it just my imagination or...

...are more people racist these days?

Stalker TV

Have you seen this new TV show, "Secret Admirer"? It's about the creepiest thing I have ever seen, and I saw Umberto once at a school fete so that's saying something. The premise is simple: X fancies Y, X is too shy to chat up Y, producers make cheap TV by helping X. So far, so Would Like To Meet. HOWEVER, this help comes in the form of distracting Y, so that X can access their nearest and dearest, find out what their hobbies, pet hates etc. are and also find out what their ideal partner and/or ex-partner looks/dresses/acts like. X then goes to get made over and learns about the hobbies in order to feign knowledge and thus fake any compatibility signals. If that wasn't bad enough, there is then a contrived 'chance meeting', so X can put the stalkering stuff to the test.

In the edition I saw, X was a woman who had never even spoken to Y, in fact Y didn't know she existed, but she was certain he would be a great boyfriend (I want to know how the hell this scenario came about...suggests pre-show stalkerage to me). X then spent a week looking at photos of his ex and learning about his favourite pastimes of classic cars and Clarice Cliff pottery, before 'bumping into him' at - coincidence of coincidences - a Clarice Cliff theme night at his local antiques store! The whole thing was gross and disturbing, and nobody came out unscathed. X had subsumed herself to the image of what she took to be his Perfect Woman, thus hiding her true self and ruining any vestige of pride she had left. And Y first of all fell for the routine in the antiques shop, and even after finding out that this woman was a hollow fake who had lied to him still went to meet her for a drink. As for the best friend who facilitated the entire debacle....

It's on after Sex and the City. Don't even get me started on Sex and the City. Because, although I am thoroughly entertained by it, it angers me more than words can say...*claps hand over mouth before tirade comes pouring out*...just tell me this - are we really supposed to like Carrie? Obviously, we are supposed to be inwardly jealous/outwardly pitying (or is it vice versa?) of Samantha and her sexcapades; we are meant to empathise with Charlotte's fathomless belief in the power of marriage and romance (or at least think it's misguided but endearing); Miranda is meant to be the most realistic, I suppose, by her being a working woman (and eventually by saddling her with the unplanned baby - a cautionary tale?). But what of Carrie? Personally, I find her too shallow and contrary to ever truly empathise with (the only thing going for her being the Big storyline - should I be getting deja vu re myself?). Fair enough, my opinion, yada yada. However, was she created to be likeable? Or just a conduit/narration device? And does anybody really like her? Again, postcard-based replies.

Crazy name, crazy place

Bolton can catch even the most experienced weirdness veteran off-guard. Today I was entertained on the top deck of the bus by a back seat type, who, I assumed, was holding court with a couple of acolytes by freestyling in a garage MC manner. Not wanting to turn round and face youth-wrath, I sat and pictured the scene: a be-dreadlocked young man in Fubu with a touch of bling, with a groupie in a mini-skirt and an agog white bloke who follows him around, both of whom sit in hushed respect for this non-stop lyricism. Imagine my surprise when 'they' got up to alight the vehicle. 'They' were in fact a 10 year old white lad in hand-me-down Adidases.
Still, not as much of a curve ball as the Market Hall's latest stall - a nail bar, staffed entirely by 17 year old Chinese lads.

Today I have been mostly...

...being tidy.
...gardening.
...getting vicarious exercise by watching th'Olympics.
...trying to improve my Gaydar (because apparently it's currently only 52% accurate).
...sporadically nodding off at random moments.

Nuptial-arama

Yep, it was my auntie's wedding this weekend. I was a vision in lilac (not my choice) and, on viewing the video, I have decided to accept any offers of free cosmetic surgery that come my way.

Actually, it was a tremendous occasion. As her brother said, you could tell my auntie's profession - project manager - when she arrived in the wedding car half an early: the day was put together "under-budget, and ahead of schedule". In fact, the only hiccup came when we were informed at 3.20pm (ceremony at 4.00) that the venue didn't have a CD player with which to play the all-important walking-down-the-aisle tune. 40 minutes of Wacky Racing later, and we'd managed to find one - so Andy Williams rang through the air as planned.

Cracking choice of first dance, by the way. Bring Me Sunshine by Morecambe and Wise. Legendary. Of course they did the Eric'n'Ernie dance as well.

(BTW, answers on a postcard as to what cosmetic surgery I should get. Seriously. I'm shortlisted for some tv show where they whisk you off to LA for six weeks of chopping and shopping to make a shiny new you. Liposuction is a given, I think. FREE!!!!)

Explanation

Right, the photo...
Life-laundering my room, I collected a ridiculous number of finished and half-finished disposable cameras and a couple of films, which I took in to be developed today. As it was just as cheap, the disposables were ready in two hours. I was surprised at the rag-tag collection of pictures, of which this was possibly the earliest, chronologically. I would guess we were about 16 or 17, and it was certainly pre- 'Tequila-gate'. Possibly early 1999. Look how unjaded we are...relatively.

Yikes....

Good advice

I recieved this gem today, which I may well get a tattoo of:

"If you keep on playing these retarded elastic-fuckbuddy games, you will end up broken too"

Muhrhrrrrrrrrrrr

Official hen night last night.
I'm feeling somewhat delicate.