Zero

I started writing this post in my head last night as I was drifting off to sleep, so it may seem a little disjointed. Last night, it seems Wondy and I had the same telly night! I too watched Louise Redknapp on The Truth About Size Zero. It was really interesting and exposed the quest for such ridiculously tiny proportions as the opposite of glamorous. She was unable to take any pleasure from anything in her life, became moody and lethargic, and was physically sick. By the end of the show, she fit into a size zero dress they had sent over from LA. It was the goal she had been working towards throughout the programme, working out in the gym with the dress hung where she could see it as motivation. The moment she put it on was totally anti climactic. She looked emaciated and depressed. You could see the bones in her back like a tiny little sardine spine. Then she changed out of the dress and threw it in the bin before heading out for dinner with her girl friends, and looked happy for the first time since the beginning of the show.

What made me angry was that there were a couple of photographers and personal trainers that were spurring her on and telling her that she looked great, when she looked really unhealthy and miserable. One photographer applauded her new sleeker lines, comparing her to a Porsche. She was a UK size 4! That's skin and bone. It's so dangerous. I've done a lot of reading on anorexia nervosa for the work I'm doing on my dissertation, and some psychoanalysts suggest that eating disorders represent a desire for oblivion, nothingness, a loss of autonomy. Who would ever encourage somebody to starve themselves into oblivion?

It also made me think about my relationship with my own body. I'm happy with my body shape. Sure, my tummy could be flatter, my boobs could be bigger, my legs could be longer, and so on, but overall I'm not too worried, even though my weight can fluctuate. My insecurities lie elsewhere - it's fair to say, I hate the way I look. During the height of the Alfie debacle, I lost a bit of weight, because I was in a constant state of anxiety and found it impossible to finish a meal. I've put it all back on since, but there was a point when my skinny jeans hung off me, and would have fallen down if I didn't wear a belt. They're still a little baggy. What's crazy, and I hate to admit it even, is that sometimes I look back and think, it would be great if I could drop that weight so fast again. Let me just repeat something: I was in a constant state of anxiety and found it impossible to finish a meal. I enjoy food; I think it's one of life's greatest pleasures, and the one thing me and Boyf do have in common is that we both love eating out in restaurants and filling our faces. So if even someone who feels generally happy with their figure can feel the pressure to be thinner, I can't imagine the pressure on someone who is naturally a bigger shape and made to feel bad about it.

And with that, I am off to dunk a Dairy Milk into a cup of tea!

Chronic Academy

For charity in this great country, we have developed a tradition of watching celebrities make tits of themselves on the telly in order to wring money out of us, the viewing public, usually in the form of telephone voting. For Comic Relief does Fame Academy, this involves murderous renditions of some of our most beloved musical masterpieces.

And I love it. Sometimes, it's so bad, that I have to turn the channel over and watch a couple of adverts because I'm afraid I'll cringe so hard I'll turn myself inside out. It must take some courage to get up there when you know you've got a voice that sounds like Cyndi Lauper got stuck in a blender. With a litter of kittens. It's all for an amazing cause, so good on them! I'm hoping I never actually turn inside out though...

This year, I'm backing: for the boys, Tim Vine.

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Brilliant. And also, looks a bit like my dad.

For the girls, Mel Giedroyc.

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Equally hilarious, and I've always had a soft spot for Mel & Sue. I even managed to spell her name right without googling it.

But the real talking point of the night for me has to be: what eejit let Angellica Bell go braless in that dress for that performance? This is a family show, yes?

P.S. See what I did with the title? I could so be a tabloid hack, yo.

Or, as it came out in my head when I proof read this post (yeah, you bet your ass I proof read!) 'tabloid yack, ho.' Now there's a new one for the old passport.

"I've never even drank ethanol."

I'm trying to write something about The Royle Family. I watched The Queen of Sheba episode the other night and it was just brilliant. I can't praise the show enough as I absolutely love it and just think it's pure genius. I was trying to list the things I love about it but I sound so gushing and can't capture what's so wonderful about it anyway. It has to be seen to be appreciated. I'm a massive fan of Ricky Tomlinson because he's so talented, but also because he's so grounded. I love his humour and the way he can deliver a line. And I love the writing and the setting and the brilliantly realised characters. It's the antidote to most other sitcoms where too much happens and it's all a bit stagey and the plots become more and more ridiculous as time and seasons go by. It's almost entirely set in their front room and they just watch telly and talk about what they had for their tea and what's going on down The Feathers. I was disappointed there was no Darren in the special though as I think he's my favourite. I tried desperately not to cry while I was watching it, but let's face it I cried during Click (an Adam Sandler movie!) the other day so there was no hope for me during the scene when Nana is thanking Barb for looking after her. But it was of course hilarious and a real triumph. I hope Liz Smith is recognised for her performance in some way.

LOVE it!

Second Chance Scousers

And on a completely different note, but perhaps demonstrative of said rut - it being Saturday night and all - can I please just be sad for a moment and say Oh My God to tonight's X factor?!

The title of this post was going to be We Woz Robbed until, in a dramatic twist (the other band that went through were disqualified because they failed to declare that they already had management, or some such nonsense) Eton Road rose from the ashes to claim a place in the final twelve! After the palaver last week with the places being increased just to accomodate scouser and former Brookside actor Ray, there seems to be something of a trend going on in this years show!

How can you not love a band with a front man who could have been dreamed up by Tim Burton? If you haven't seen the show, he looks almost exactly like this:

Wait, am I the cute one or the weird one again?

I love it!

Drama

So far this week, a student went into a diabetic fit at work and an ambulance was called, a dead body was found underneath the flyover, and there has been a train derailment (in which, very luckily, noone was killed.) Also, one of the cleaners was standing at the end of the library counter talking very loudly on the phone to her husband, sounding very much like she was accusing him of having an affair. What gives me this impression chiefly is that she yelled "Well why don't you want sex anymore?!" All a bit too Eastenders for my liking.

Tonight after a long, boring day at work, I filled out some more job applications. One of them I totally want, the other is a bit dodgy as it involves interviewing violent and/or psychotic criminals. Plus you have to do roleplay in the interview, which would only be okay if I got to play the psycho (terminology I should probably avoid if I want the job :P) Caught bits of TV including Jamie Oliver getting his Special Recognition from the National TV Awards, and good on him too! His dad was there and announced the award, he looked dead chuffed and proud, it brought a tear to my eye! His Fifteen and School Dinners projects are very admirable, and I saw one of his new shows where he drives to Sicily in a camper van and it was cool :) Also watched Lost, and it turns out that Shannon and Boone got jiggy with it in Australia, quelle surprise.

Tomorrow I'm covering Rarebit's late shift, hence the late night post. The dude totally scammed me to do his late and then took the rest of the week off sick, but at least he owes me one. This means that I have to work with the Foot Perv... I never thought I'd regret not owning Doc Martens.

A Kings Ransom

The Olive Press was last night the scene of unrestrained debauchery. It pains and humiliates me to confess something that will provoke disgust and outrage in you, gentle reader. Last night, after entering the restaurant and tottering down a small flight of stairs in my very high heels, we were told we had to wait for our table so headed to the bar, where we ordered a pint and a double Baileys... the pint cost £3.50, which is a rip off but we are prepared to deal with that as it's the norm to be ripped off in most places we go. But the Baileys... the Baileys... oh the Horror! NINE POUNDS!!! Have you seen how little liquid you get in a double Baileys? The glass is most definitely half empty! Moreover, for NINE POUNDS (FOR A DRINK!!) you can almost buy a bottle of the stuff. Let me just put this into sharper context. Before 7 o'clock in said restaurant, they do a £10 meal deal, which offers 2 courses and a glass of wine! There was a group of women next to us when we handed over our hard earned cash with faces agog, who sympathetically advised: "you'd better enjoy that drink!" "Fucking hell," Boyf complained, "Let me have a taste!" The rest of the night is a complete blank. I have never quite recovered!

That'll be £95 and your first born son please.

Oh okay, it's not a complete blank, but seriously that totally put me off the place and I didn't enjoy the rest of the experience at all, even though it was quite decent. I didn't like the food I ordered, but thems the brakes sometimes, the starter was scrummy, and it was nice to go someplace new. I won't be going back though, that's for sure!

We had a 9:30 table so we hit the Tapas bar before we traipsed over to The Money... I mean Olive Press, and had some yummy sangria. The bar was packed and we had a good laugh trying to fit as many Elvis related words and sayings into our conversations - childish but effective, just add alcohol. Sample Quote: "Can you hold this for me please? ...Thank you very much." We forgot to take a watch so kept having to ask people the time or try and spy a look at their wrists. We were next to a group of Cockneys, and when one of them laughed it honestly sounded like he was sobbing his heart out. They told us they'd been waiting for a table since Tuesday. Better to wait than pay NINE POUNDS FOR ONE DRINK I say! Sorry, I'll get over it when I get a job with a bigger salary, company car, and perhaps twelve underlings. Can I just say we used to think the Tapas bar was expensive and the round there costs half the price than the one at Satan's Rip-Off Dump? Like the Murphy's, I'm not bitter. I think I'm traumatised. I'll probably have to drink solely in Wetherspoons (cheapy cheapy cheap cheap - and, according to the website, award winning loos!) for a bit until I recover.

Don't step on my blue suede shoes, bitch!

Anyway, after leaving The Restaurant That Shall Not Be Named, we hovered in the doorway for a bit deciding whether to get soaked in the rain or try and hail a cab. A passing cab, it's orange light answering our dilemma, wrapped up all such discussion and we got in. Then regretted it. Taxi man just rabbited on at us for the entire journey, and after hearing with satisfactory revulsion our tale of the £9 Baileys, suggested that I frequent an area well known for prostitution to earn the money back. When Boyf protested, taxi man argued that I didn't even know what that meant. I must look innocent or something. All in all, a bit of a mixed bag as nights out go.

Oh, and also, when we passed Havana, everyone was standing around the TV watching X Factor :P So I just about know that Journey South made it through as they were on when we passed. Because of my week in France I missed out on a bit of X Factor and haven't really kept up with it as I should have, but I'd like to say how gutted I am that little Trevor and James didn't get through. Trevor made me cry when he said that he thought he'd just be stacking shelves for the rest of his life. The poor mite is only 16. On a more worrying note, I think Chico is actually starting to grow on me (like a fungus?) At least he doesn't come on singing boring ballads every week. I just wish he'd stop telling everyone it was "Chico time!"

You know, in the olden days, they used to Press people to death with big stones for committing certain crimes... don't think there were any Olives involved though. And very little Baileys.

Celebs I'd love to have a pint with... vol. 1

Tess Daly & Vernon Kay

Wouldn't you just love to hang out with these guys? They're like the perfect couple. Vernon would be a right laugh and Tess seems really down to Earth, despite being unfathomably lucky on the genetic front. Vernon has starred in some crap telly shows in his time of course. One that strikes me most firmly is that Saturday night show he presented with has-been singers and acts attempting a comeback. I remember listening to Vernon's Radio One show on a drive back from Wales after he had interviewed Haddaway (remember him? no? he sang What is Love (oh baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more) back in 1990-something.) He asked Hadda (for short) how he kept in such good shape and Hadda's reply was to very sleazily drawl: "Lots of sex." Vernon took the piss out of him. I also think their wedding looked fab (they got married in Vernon's home town near Bolton and their wedding car was a camper van) and their baby pics are very classy. They've gradually worked their way up in the industry too, with Tess appearing in The Beloved's Sweet Harmony video where everybody's naked, and Vernon starring in some TV show that followed models around (he being a male model, not in a pervy sense.) Tess is gorgeous enough to be forgiven for being Bruce Forsythe's TV wife on Strictly Come Dancing, or whatever that cheesefest show is. I know it's popular but come on! She was brilliant with Brian Dowling on SM:TV though. And in a magazine interview she said she wanted to move to the country and bake cakes, which rocks! Thumbs up for Tess & Vernon I say!

Screwed

Boyf and I have been attempting a romantic week-long break in France for a while now. We agreed the date as 8th October and set about arranging our busy schedules around it. I booked the time off work, planned to shop in advance (didn't work, not sure what I'll be wearing now), and as of yesterday the ferry is booked and we have 2 possible cottages awaiting our arrival (still to be decided.) All sounds pretty sorted apart from the fact that I now have to go without him, because his stupid boss won't give him next week off. In fact, to add insult to injury he is sending him to work away next week and offered him this week off. He does this on purpose; he's such a hater. So I'm off to France as a third wheel. Whatever, it's better than cancelling the time off.

Last week Potter and I were discussing The Turn of the Screw. He asked me if I'd read it and then we both expressed how long it takes to read, despite being a really short novel. It's not even like the language is archaic or difficult; I think it's the syntax he uses, but for whatever reason, it just takes a long time to process. I had to read it in a few days for uni so I probably missed all kinds of significant bits, as it's something you need to take your time over. I remember the boyfriend was scared of the cover and used to make me hide it of a night, which reminds me of Friends when Joey kept The Shining in the freezer (and when I accidentally tore an arm off a teddybear when I was younger and hid it in the wardrobe.) I wish I had more time for reading. There are so many books I haven't read yet and so many that are crying out for a re-reading. Maybe I'll take a book to France to keep me warm since I'll be flying solo.

In other news, Potter attended a fondue party last night. Who knew the 70's were back?

From Henry James to the X Factor. We watched it last night, being the crazy kids we are. We so need to get a life! It was Saturday night for goodness sake! It can be pretty funny but I don't know if it will ever top the high point of the series so far, which has been the two Welsh girls that were on it a few weeks ago. They made me laugh out loud. Simon (of the Cowell) told one of them (go on, guess!) that she looked like Vicky Pollard. When they were interviewed afterwards, she was pretty angry and complained that Simon had no room to talk, since "he's not all that", to which her friend nonchalantly replied, to my complete amazement, "Oh I dunno, I'd still do him like!" Class.

Quote of the week: "I can't remember the last time I rubbed my eyes." Lila, on wearing mascara.

Alcoholic

Today on the radio:-

Starsailor: [slow, sweeping beginning] Don't you know you've got your Daddy's eyes, And your Daddy was an alcoholic.

Matt Lucas: Yeah, I know.

If you don't watch Little Britain, you won't get that joke! It was probably a location thing anyway, but hey! Heard it on the way to the Dam with our Puppy. Laughed our socks off. News on the night out to follow!

What's that Sam?

If you are what you eat then right now I'm a doughnut. This may also explain why so many criminals remain at large. Mmmm, doughnuts.

Who watches Most Haunted? It's freakin' hilarious:

Approximate quote from psychic medium: "...and these spirits would often show themselves to the naked eye as rabbits."

Approximate comeback from parapsychologist: "This is the first time I've ever heard of spirits manifesting themselves as bunnies... and I hope it's the last!"

Whether you believe or not, that's some good TV! They have jackets now too!