American Midol - cast your vote

It is now time for public voting in the American Midol poetry competition, so pop over to Attila the Mom's, read the entries (including mine) and cast your vote.

Sunday Trumpet (yes, I know it's Monday)

Ben McKnight (of Dreamers, Liars and Tellers of Tall Tales) is this weeks reviewer, and his chosen subject is Friday Night Lights, a television series about a high school American football team. This is not a programme we have in the UK, but having read Ben's review I can see why he is a tad peeved, and you can share his disappointment by going here.

If you would like to join the Gasbags and perform a valuable public service by alerting your fellow bloggers to books, films and tv programmes they really should avoid, then go here.

It's the future I tell you.

Following the extension of congestion charging in London, it appears there are a number of people who are unhappy with the idea of paying a charge every time they visit their local newsagent. If you are one of these people, worry not, there is no need to pay, help is at hand in the form of my amazing new discovery.

Now, you need to pay attention because this idea is radical and quite complex. What you do is this: go out of your house and turn to face the direction in which you wish to travel. Now, swing one foot forward and place it on the ground, then do the same with the other. Repeat this sequence until you arrive at your destination. I know, it’s a novel concept, but since I discovered it I use it all the time and have found it to be extremely effective over short distances.

Some elderly people have sneered at my discovery, saying it isn’t new at all. They say it is called walking and has been around for ages. They claim it was all the rage in the past. I think not. I mean, walking? Have you ever heard anything so stupid? They did the same when I announced my amazing outdoor laundry drying system, and then stole it for themselves. So, I plan to patent my new discovery, I shall call it ‘alternating perambulation’. I had better be quick though, because some of these elderly people have already started using it, they say they were doing so all along, but I know they saw me and are just copying. Some have even gone as far as transporting several bags of shopping using alternating perambulation - now that’s just showing off.

Before I go - Tina posted this request in the comments for my Enid Blyton post. Can anyone identify this book:

This is a long shot but I am going to try anyway. As a child I remember reading a story about a Goblin or a pixie who had to visit the King on his way he fell and grazed his knees to cover up the tear in his breeches he stuck to leaves on his knees,, I never knew what happened in the end as someone had torn the pages of the old book. Can someone help please I am 36 years old and still want to find out the ending!!!!!

Technorati Tags: congestion+charging

The Sunday Trumpet (and a little aside)

Things are a little different this week. Due a nasty case of Bloggerus Posteaterus the scheduled reviewer, Nightmare has been unable to post his review himself. The wonderful Attila the Mom came valiantly to the rescue, and posted it on her own blog. So, head over there now to discover why Nightmare's enjoyment of Tin Cup is spoilt by a glaring error at the end (I know nothing about golf and even I can see what he means) then drop into Nightmare's blog to let him know you sympathise with his nasty case of the above mentioned disorder.

If you would like to join the Gasbags and perform a valuable public service by alerting your fellow bloggers to books, films and tv programmes they really should avoid, then go here.

One more thing, and it's a subject I never thought I would blog about - since when did Britney Spears become evil incarnate? When I got up this morning, I turned one of the television news channels on and vaguely caught something about her shaving her head. 'Surely not, she's such a pretty girl' I thought, but I was still on my first cup of coffee, so it didn't really go much further than that. Just now, out of curiosity (thinking, 'did I really hear that') I checked and it's true, she has. Later, I logged into Technorati and discovered a boat-load of people slagging her off. In fact, not just slagging her off, but saying such things as 'her children should be taken away' and 'I hope she dies'.

I admit, I'm not a fan of Britney, and I take little notice of anything she does, but, I gather that she has been through a pretty difficult time in the last two or three years, and adding it all up, it seems she is going through some kind of breakdown. One point in the whole story is very telling. Apparently, she told a tattooist “I don’t want anyone touching me. I’m tired of everyone touching me.” If I was a 25 year old woman who had been objectified, and profited from, for more than a third of my life, I think I might feel the same.

I'm guessing all her critics and haters are perfect, and have never made any mistakes so feel entitled to wish misery and death on another human being. I'm also guessing that a degree of the anti-Britney feeling arises from fans who believed the perfect image she was bestowed with and who feel somewhat aggrieved now they have discovered she is as flawed as every other person on the planet.

ps: If you are planning to leave a comment (please do, I love comments) don't go down the 'but what about the children route'. Women become good mothers through a combination of experience and encouragement. Harassment and criticism play no part in the process.


Technorati Tags: sunday+trumpet, gasbag+roundtable, britney+spears

Did you mean Google?

Has anyone else noticed that for the last 24 hours many people have been searching the internet using Googe?

Poetry and Nekkid Gardening

Want to bring out your inner poet? Then, wander over to Attila the Mom's and take a look at the poetry competition she is running. The theme is women, but men can enter too. I have already composed my entry - oh yes, it's good, in fact it would make John Betjeman jealous, and it took me ages. As long as fifteen minutes! The voting is secret so I won't be posting that here. However, here is one I made earlier:

There was once a young lady called Meryl,
Whose mood swings made her terribly feral,
Her husband named Herbert,
Ate all of her sherbert,
And now he is living in peril.

And now for some more weird local news. A man in Yorkshire has been taken to court for mowing his lawn while naked. The chap in question lives in Scarborough, and as a former resident I can promise you that even in July, it is not warm enough to do anything outdoors while in a state of undress. Not only is there a constant chill wind coming from the sea, but at the first sign of any sun, a cold, damp mist rolls in, blanketing the entire town. This does make it easy to spot tourists though, they are the folk clad in shorts and a layer of goosebumps. Greenhouse Girl also blogged about this, but her post includes a photo of Brad Pitt - no, he has his clothes on - but reading about nekkid gardening, while looking at his pic creates all sorts of interesting imagery in one's mind.

The Sunday Trumpet

This weeks reviewer is Mamma Loves, who urges us all to avoid Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind by Ann B. Ross. Pay her a visit to find out why.

If you would like to join the Gasbags and perform a valuable public service by alerting your fellow bloggers to books, films and tv programmes they really should avoid, then go here.

Do you know why women have trouble parking?

Because men keep telling them this much is 6 inches - this joke works if you imagine I'm holding my thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart. It seems weather men do the same with snow.

I gather many of you have some. We don't. The weather man promised 15 centimetres, we got about 1cm and that melted 30 minutes later. I am miffed.

Turning the radio on first thing this morning (I wanted to check the schools were open, many have closed for the day) I heard reports of immense amounts of snow coming in, and at about 7.30 the announcer stated that it was snowing in Yorkshire. I looked out of the window, and saw nothing but frost. A little while later, it did snow, slightly, but had barely settled before it melted away.

It was quite amusing to listen to the reporting though. I was reminded of the scenes in the film The Fog, when the dj in the lighthouse is directing the residents of the town away from danger. Anyone would have thought some terrible fate was about to befall the country:

"There is snow in Northampton, it has started snowing in Nottingham, but Manchester is clear, Manchester is clear!"

I half expected someone to urge us all to head for Manchester in case the nasty old white stuff got us. 'Stay out of the snow people, stay out of the snow'.

Anyhow, I suspect I know why we have no snow here. This lot came from the south - obviously southern snow is not of the same standard as northern snow - ducks to avoid missiles thrown by southern readers.

Chilly Weather and Random Stuff

Finally, we have some proper winter weather which gives us the opportunity to indulge in the fine British pastime of moaning about the climate. By heck, it's freezing. It was -9 here this morning and I have actually had a reason to wear the scarf I bought two months ago. Snow has been forecast for this weekend, but I'm taking that with a pinch of salt. Those pesky forecasters have lied to me once too often.

Now for your amusement and edification are few random links from my bookmarks which may help banish the mid-week blahs.

If you would like to have a stab at creating your own videos, try this. I haven't had a go yet, but it looks pretty simple.

This is funny (contains mildly adult content)

On the other hand, this is cute

Autodidacts might like this, this and this

Having a bad day? Just be grateful you aren't soluble.

Discover the strange things other people believed as children, and add your own.

If none of the above appeals, grab some bling for your blog.

And with that I leave you :-)

The Shopaholic series

For this week's Gasbag Roundtable, I chose to review the Shopaholic series by Sophie Kinsella.

A year or so ago I entered a competition on a website I visit occasionally not expecting to win anything, but, to my delight, a couple of weeks later I received an email announcing that I had won the above mentioned series of books! I was thrilled! But my joy was short lived. With hindsight, I suspect I may have been palmed off with the booby prize.

The Shopaholic series relates the oh so amusing (not) adventures of the eponymous heroine, one Becky Bloomwood, a woman who loves to shop. I had heard of these books and believed they would be right up my street, after all, I love to shop too. How wrong could I be?

One Monday evening I curled up on the sofa, a mug of Horlicks at hand, and began to read. Two or three pages in I realised that this was going to be much harder work than I had anticipated, but decided to stick with it. After all, a lot of books start slowly, but build up to become something really enjoyable. These don't.

It didn't take me long to figure out Becky and I were never going to get along. Why? Because she is the most god awful, air headed, whinge bag. I'll give you an example of the thoughts which rattle around Becky's empty little head:

"God, my nails look fab. I had them done at the spa - little pink butterflies on a white background. And the antennae are little sparkly diamonds. They are so sweet. Except one seems to have fallen off. I must get that fixed-"

Oh yes Becky you must! I mean, the world might come shuddering to a halt if you have a bad manicure.

And so it goes on. Becky whines her way into marriage, to New York and on the discovery of a long lost sister she whines because said sister doesn't like shopping. Oh how tragic. At some point someone has a baby, but quite frankly, I was losing the will to live and didn't read that far.

The horrendous Becky would, perhaps, have been bearable if the supporting characters were normal people who provided balance and contrast, but they don't. All seem to work in finance or PR, they name drop with impunity, and even have monikers such as Tarquin. For goodness sake, who is called that?!

The characters would have been more tolerable if there had been an element of development, or redemption, but sadly there isn't. In fact, if anything, I found them more annoying with each successive book, and developed an urge to slap Becky as, with each new chapter in her life, she discovers a whole host of fresh trivialities to obsess about. Maybe, that is the point, maybe these books are not supposed to be humorous. Perhaps, they are really an ironic study of post-modern consumerism, laying bare the decadence and over-all meaninglessness of the 21st century, western life style. Hmm, perhaps not.

The Shopaholic series reminds me of Sex in the City with all the life and humour sucked out. Populated with irritating, pretentious morons, whose lives revolve around shoes and knowing the right people, they are best avoided by everyone who doesn't happen to be an irritating, pretentious moron (with an unlikely name), who believes having the right pair of shoes is the be all and end all of human existence. Actually, they are just best avoided, full stop.

If you would like to join the Gasbags and perform a valuable public service by alerting your fellow bloggers to books, films and tv programmes they really should avoid, then go here.

Music which makes you fart

Thanks to Mad Baggage for alerting me to this. It seems some Christian parents desperate to protect their offspring from turning gay (no, I didn't think it happened like that either) have compiled a list of the musical artists most likely to produce this effect. It's an interesting assortment with some odd annotations. For example the word 'loincloth' next to Ted Nugent's name. How strange - didn't Jesus wear such a garment? Oh well, whatever. I did consider picking several random artists and offering them up for submission, and still might. However, in the meantime I decided to compile my own list: Music which makes you fart. Oh, there is a lot of it about I can assure you. So, I'm kicking off with the following:

- Jimmy Hendrix - The Wind Cried Mary (especially dangerous, it produces talking farts)

- Booker T and the MGS - Green Onions

- Anything by the Spice Girls

- Nirvana - Smells Like Teen Spirit

- The Beach Boys - Good Vibrations

- The Doors - Light my Fire

Feel free to add your own, but be warned, avoid the ones above at all costs. If you don't, and you find yourself doubled up with flatulence, on your own head be it.

Update:

- Queen suggested by Kim, I suspect he may be questioning the value of their music ;-)

- Tubthumping by Chumbawamba - suggested by Nixxie

- Leader of the Pack and Girls Girls Girls, suggested by Delmer - think of the bike sounds.

- I thought of Bat Out of Hell, by Meatloaf.

See also: Matt has a jolly amusing little page, re-working the above mentioned 'gay' music list.