Tea and Cakes

Oh dear.
Now, I wasn’t expecting a work of cinematic genius. I’d read some reviews. I knew it wasn’t going to be bad, but in reality it was really, really awful.
Apparantly the Macedonians all had Irish accents. One can only presume that Colin Farrell wasn’t up to a neutral accent so evryone else had to fit around him. I kept expecting Brendan Gleeson to pop up. The accents made it hard to suspend disbelief, which would have been a useful skill for accepting Angelina Jolie (age 29) as Colin Farrell’s (age 28) mother. I like Angelina usually, but she wasn’t right for the job.
The movie didn’t shy away from the gay thing, which could have been a redeeming feature, except that they were so self conscious about it it was cringeworthy. Like an uncle trying to be down with the kids. I wouldn’t have been suprised if Aristotle had turned to face the camera to speak to the audience: “Yes, I’m talking about the man love you know.” I almost wish I’d been in the cinema to see how it played with Irish teenage audiences. Still, at least that part was historically accurate. Better than Troy’s “He’s my cousin. We’re cousins. Yes, I love him, it’s because he’s my cousin. Cousin.”
The storyline was all over the place, it kept jumping forwards and backwards in time, the length of Colin’s ridiculous hair the only guide to whre you were. Oh, and a note that I presume only relates to the directors cut: My weekend would have been just dandy without the shot of Colin’s testicles.
My final comments on the film: My, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and Jared Leto are pretty. If only I was a gay man. Or their cousin…

1. Popeye. It’s all in the voice. Especially the laugh.
2. Jimmy Saville. Voice again. Especially the “now then, now then” stuff.
3. Peter Mandelson’s hands. They just do.
4. Benny Hill. I don’t need to explain this one, do I?

Delicious whittards tea, served black, in the Arabia cup and saucer I bought in Finland.
A lovely way to start the day, along with a Sudoku puzzle to get my brain warmed up.

So it’s public and there can be no claims that I’ve never said this:

Box up all the crap in my bedroom and put it in the loft. I will go through it when I am home. There is plenty of space in the loft, and contrary to what you think, there is only a box or two of my stuff up there at the moment. If you think there is more, then please find them, put them together and I will throw most of it out.

So, the cure for my extreme annoyance would appear to be doing the part of my job I like best.
I don’t want to write about what I do on here, but anyone reading this knows what it is and yesterday was heaps and heaps of fun.

Sometimes my anger does scare me a bit though. I got it under control at university (I used to really flip out), but it does come out now and then (Twice in the last year I think) – mainly out of frustration with other people. What’s kinda worrying is that I really felt the need to lash out and hurt the other day – emotionally, not physically, but hell, the difference is that I can probably hurt more effectively emotionally. Thing is, I know who I get this trait from. And that I really don’t like.

OK, from tomorrow I’m going back to chirpier posts about plants and gardening and nice things to drink and eat.

I’m getting another free toni & guy haircut next week. Not for an exam or anything, just for practice. The guy got my name of the other person. This is fab.

Following those two, anyone got any ideas on how to calm down? Rescue remedy didn’t work, and it’s too late and I can’t be bothered to go do exercise.

See, tomorrow is the day the a level results are out in the uk. One of my half brothers will be getting his results, and finding out where he gets to go to college. It’s not going to be a big suprise, he’s going to have done really well, he’s super intelligent. The thing is, I’m not in touch with them. I’m happy about that, I don’t want to be around them and see the positive reaction to his results and compare that to how things are with me. But I’ve no problem with him, I’d like to be able to congratulate him. I know I will, in a month or so, when he’s off at college and I won’t cause ructions by being in touch.
It just got me thinking that it’s a bit sad really. But even the thought of going back into that part of my family makes me tense and stressed out. I didn’t think it would at this point. I’m guessing it’ll get easier.
Really, I think my hormones are just playing up and making me think too much about things I shouldn’t worry about.

OK, so I’ll admit it in writing: I like watching big brother. I like watching people, always have, so watching a load of attention seeking people locked up in a fishbowl togetherbeing made to perform a series of tasks for the amusement of the braying public much like performing monkeys, is, well, something that appeals to me.
I’m not going to go into any sort of description of the programme etc, save this – I wanted Eugene to win and I didn’t believe Anthony when he said he wouldn’t have taken the money.
For those not familar with this years contestants, read what Charlie Brooker had to say about them. He’s much better than me.

Anyway, I was flicking through the tellybox earlier, before giving in and having a bath instead, and I caught some of a “What they’ve been doing since they were evicted show”. I don’t think we’ll be hearing from any of them soon. My reasoning:
Mary: Would like to be an actress. When her publicity person asked her what experience she had she stated that she’s met Neil Jordan. Said publicity person then set her up a meeting with an agent, who said of himself “We never turn any possibility down”. The discerning agent then. He sees Mary as “The next mystic meg”. From the look on her face I think she was hoping for the next kate winslet.
Sam: Her goal is to set up a female lads mag, with pictures of semi naked blokes in it. Cosmopolitan, Company et al must have passed her by. And the whole “ladette” culture explosion. Wish I knew how she missed it, would have been a useful talent. She also claims to have been a feminist all her life. One who spends most of her time in high heels and a bikini and had a boob job. Right.
Lesley: Lesley wants to be a singer. We watched her cut a demo. My word, that was one talented sound engineer. I predit a brief chart sucess with the single, then it’s on to the cruise boats and off the telly.
Maxwell and Saskia: We didn’t see either of these guys with a publicist – I’m guessing that neither of them has any talents to attract the attentions of a publicist. Well, apart from Saskia’s obvious ones, but Maxwell didn’t like the idea of her getting them out, and it’s not clear if she’s told him that she already did. Anyway, we saw Maxwell meeting Saskia’s family for the first time in the local pub. He walks in, shouting “What, no round of applause”, to deathly silence. It’s all covered up and everyone’s soon drunk and happy, Maxwell and Saskia (who looked like she’s been punched in both eyes with turquoise eyeshadow) singing along on the kareoke machine to Kylie and Jason’s duet. Lets just hope they break up before they breed.

Erm, sorry about that, been busy. It’s ok though, I realised that it doesn’t actually matter, my motivation for this isn’t to have lots of readers, I don’t really like attention.