Tonight's been...weird and not worth posting about (well, it is, but someone might read it and think ill of me...for a change). So I'll just say this: Jon-Jon has a weblog!
27 July, 2000
I know my updates have been really sporadic lately, but I'm not lying when I say I've got a lot on at the moment. Right now, I'm about to head out the door to pick up Jen from the train station. I know she's going to be in full bitch mode, since I wouldn't go down to London to personally escort her up here, but that's life. Anyway, I have found -- thanks to the folks at Fametracker -- a link which will certainly keep you horrified and entertained for hours on end. Don't ask, just click.
26 July, 2000
Proving that the British justice system does have its moments, a judge has ruled against Mohammed al-Fayed in his bid to secure a UK passport. One look at his official site tells you that this guy is a complete nutter, and I fail to see how the Harrods boss thinks that accusing Prince Philip of ordering a 'hit' on Princess Diana and his son, Dodi, is going to help him get UK citizenship. Maybe he knows something I don't about the whole immigration process, but I doubt it.
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This is getting good. Pardon me if I don't feel her pain.
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Quadra-boobs, anyone? I guess Lisa Nicole Carson's stint in the mental ward didn't deal with her bra phobia.
25 July, 2000
Living only a two minute walk from Worcestershire, of course I've always got a bottle of Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce in my cupboard. But if you want to know what Lea & Perrins make best, I'll let you in on the secret: Lemon and Dill Five Minute Marinade. I normally hate lemon-flavoured things, especially with meat, but I've been drizzling this stuff over spinach, salad and boneless chicken breast every night. I don't know if it's available in the US, but if it is, please secure a bottle for yourself at once. You heard it here first.
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I'm proud to say that their inclusion on the Mercury Music Prize shortlist does nothing to diminish my adamant anti-Death in Vegas sentiments. Coldplay? I liked them okay until Yellow got played on every radio station, every half hour, every day. No, I'm definitely backing Richard Ashcroft on this one, though the Mercury becomes more and more of a parody of itself every year. Nitin Sawnhey = says it all.
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SHOCK! Crap pop stars talk shit on things about which they know nothing!
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Um, ow.
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Joe Piscopo: He Lives!
24 July, 2000
I'm kind of ashamed to admit this, but The In Crowd sounds like a must-see piece of trash. It'll be about three thousand years before it makes it over to the UK, though, so I'm in for a torturous wait.
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Jeez, I married one of these guys. Except mine's not a shit and I love him lots.
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Am I the only one who thinks Louie Anderson is funny?
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George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg and a host of other celebs -- unbeknownst to me -- were just up the road from my house last week for the UK premiere of The Perfect Storm. I would have loved to have seen them, because somehow the image of Hollywood's elite standing in the shadow of Spaghetti Junction is just too comical for me to get my head 'round. I wonder if anyone asked them if they'd like a 'kipper tie' (cup of tea)...
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Meg Ryan's mother has some weird ideas about how she should go about re-capturing her daughter's affection. Whether Meg is lying about her mother or not doesn't really matter; I sincerely doubt that her mother maligning her in the worldwide press is going to instigate a happy family reunion anytime soon.
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Richard Branson admits -- again -- that Virgin Trains are totally 'fucked'. I don't know if he thinks it's a good PR move to admit that, but I can only hope it'll be quickly followed by some improvements to service and discounts on fares, because $50 for a return train to London is a wee bit steep. (Also, if fare hikes keep increasing at their current rate, a return ticket from Stafford to London will cost £500 -- about $760 -- in ten years.) Basically, stop laughing about how much your company sucks and start doing something about it.
22 July, 2000
Where've I been?
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My latest Liv4Now.com column is up, wherein I bitch. No shit!
20 July, 2000
Sorry about the lack of links today (that could change later), but I've been trying to get all of my work done and out of my face so that I can take my birthday (tomorrow, in case I haven't mentioned it a thousand times) off and just hang out with Ian for a few hours tomorrow afternoon; three hour pub lunches are getting to be a Friday tradition with us, anyway. A big shout out to the lovely Jackie C for sending me books in pretty silver wrapping paper. Either she thinks I'm illiterate or knows what my idea of the perfect present is. Thank you, Jackie!
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19 July, 2000
Moxie's got a new affiliate site: Soapboxgirls.com. I love the design, and the content is even better. Another feather in the Moxie cap.
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Well, well. Jackie C just phoned me -- she's stuck in bomb traffic. She's got to get the bus all the way home from Oxford Circus because of Tube closings, along with millions of other people. So watch out for a particularly pissed off entry from her later tonight, and from any other London journallers.
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More bombs in London. I have to say, I find it odd that the terrorists placed the bomb at Ealing Broadway, which is way out in west London, as opposed to somewhere like Piccadilly Circus or Oxford Circus where loads more people (and tourists) are always about. Not that I'm offering them tips or anything; I'm just sayin'.
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I keep meaning to read Ralph's Party, but haven't yet. But I was thumbing through the book this weekend at Jackie C's, and noticed that the author, Lisa Jewell, has her own website. I expected it to be crap, but it's actually quite good. She tells how she went from being a receptionist to a published author, and even gives a comprehensive list of tips for getting agents to send your book to a publisher, right down to the proper format for manuscripts. One for the bookmarks of any literary type.
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Don't even try to tell me that the sight of Joe Eszterhas doesn't just make you dissolve into a little puddle of lust. Ick.
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More earth-shattering news: Celebrities will shill just about anything for the right price, even if it's vodka and they're a recovering alcoholic with drunk driving convictions.
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18 July, 2000
You know, I only once ever thought I loved someone so much that I would describe my feelings in the sort of pukeworthy prose found here, but I excuse myself for that, since I was barely out of high school. (I don't excuse myself for the behaviour that ensued for the next, oh, three years or so, but that is neither here nor there.) Sometimes I feel like perhaps I'm a freak of nature because I don't use phrases like 'If you close your eyes and listen, you might even be able to feel our love expanding into the universe. Go ahead and take some. There's enough,' when I talk -- or think -- about Ian. But if not embarrassing myself with overwrought, saccharine sentiment rarely found outside a Backstreet Boys song is wrong, I don't want to be right.
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Today is Beth's birthday, and she got a puppy. I can't tell you how envious I am of her. If anyone wants to email Ian and drop a few un-subtle hints, I'm not going to stop you.
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One of the best things about working for Mighty Big TV is the high calibre of talent and humour present in both my co-workers and my employers. Check out Wing Chun and Sars' faux girlfight towards the end of this William Fichtner thread. They're easily the most amusing boss ladies I've ever had.
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Quote of the Day, courtesy of my lovely Dad: 'If
assholes could fly, that place would have been an airport last night.' I know that's not an original quote, but hearing it from my Dad made me lose my shit. Hee!
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From Fametracker, we have The Battle of the Lovable, Irascible Dweebs, between Jason Schwartzman and Jason Biggs. I have to say, I have a thing for Jason Biggs, even though he fucked a pie (and maybe even because of it...but I'm not saying). I thought American Pie was a bit of tat, but I also couldn't take my eyes off of him for the entire film. Is that sick? I think so.
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The News of the World today brings us news that my secret boyfriend, Jay Brown (I share him with Jackie C), has dumped Mel C, teen singer Billie loves 'chubby men,' Rachel Hunter was mistaken for a waitress at China White in London the other night and -- STOP PRESS! -- Mark Lamarr is a complete wanker.
Ho and, indeed, hum.
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You know, I think Madonna looks beautiful these days, certainly better than she's ever looked. But something about this is just wrong. I don't like the way she tries so very hard to be British, right down to what she refers to as her 'London accent' (erm, is it?), but does she not know that the Union Jack is on a par with the Confederate flag? Maybe I've let Ian's political views influence me a bit too much, but I have to admit that I don't think much of the sort of person who likes to wear or otherwise fly the Union Jack. Soz.
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17 July, 2000
Underwired has been re-designed, and it looks fabulous. If Ian could design websites at all -- let alone that slickly -- I might keep him. (Joke.) Thanks also to Underwired's editor, Carly, for being such a good therapist for me today. She's been giving me advice on work-related stuff and also some help on how to stop berating myself for past fuck-ups, and her words have been a great comfort to me. Also, she invited me to her birthday party at Disneyland in October, which would be such a blast. Go check out her network, now.
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I'm back, but I'm busy. I'll update this tomorrow, though, okay? Okay.
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14 July, 2000
I'm off. Back on Monday.
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13 July, 2000
I think my Member of Parliament, Debra Shipley, should spend a little less time going after knife-wielding thugs, and a bit more time working. Words can't express my disdain for this New Labour 'Blair Babe' (and these women are supposed to be enlightened?). I went to one of her constituency surgeries to talk to her about RIP, and she was completely and utterly clueless. Had no idea what the legislation was that I was talking about, and didn't seem to think it was very important. I dunno, maybe she was planning her next publicity stunt.
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Just yesterday, Jackie C and I were gushing to each other about our shared love of Ribena, the blackcurrant drink that's the closest I can get to grape juice in the UK. (Yes, our conversations are really that scintillating.) 'Only Toothkind or Light, though,' I told her. Then I read just now (on a link which will probably be dead soon) that Ribena's makers have been reprimanded by the Advertising Standards Authority for claiming Ribena Toothkind doesn't encourage tooth decay...which it does. Damn. Anyway, they also rapped Kelloggs for claiming that kids would lose weight and be more popular if they ate Kelloggs' cereals. Perhaps those kids should read Wing Chun's most excellent piece on why Kelloggs Special K adverts are a bunch of bollocks. Anyway, you should read it, so go.
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Don't ask me why, but Ian thinks that some changes to print preview and a few other minor 'enhancements' are reason enough to download the newly unveiled Internet Explorer 5.5 final. I don't know, it just strikes fear in my heart when he tells me he's installing a new MS product -- and I'm not even one of the anti-MS brigade. I won't even go into my reaction when he installs betas.
I'm so glad we have separate machines; he's not allowed to install anything on mine, and I'm not allowed to install ICQ or download mp3's onto his. Fair trade.
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For some reason, Ian found this carpal tunnel website oddly amusing. But when the talking tree graphics ended and the surgery stills started, he suddenly stopped laughing. (By the way, he wasn't laughing at carpal tunnel -- there's usually only one reason why people visit sites like that, and I'll let you guess why he was there. Poor guy.)
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My latest Liv4Now column went up yesterday.
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It's nice to know I'm not the only one who thinks MS Word is evil. To be honest, I didn't even have it installed on my machine until I started doing my Mighty Big TV recaps. I usually just wrote stuff in Notepad (though I'm not one of those insufferable people whose stomachs are turned at the thought of people using anything but Notepad or some other text editor to design websites; as long as it's not FrontPage or something else which tends to produce samey sites, I don't give a shit). I have to say, though, that MS Word has never crashed on my machine, or made my machine run slow or anything described by the author of the linked article. Sounds like maybe it's time to spring for some new memory.
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Betty Boothroyd is retiring as Speaker of the House of Commons. Boothroyd, who is the first woman to ever hold that post, and the first Speaker who hasn't worn a wig while on the job, is incredibly popular in the UK. Still, not a lot of people know who she is. Last summer, Jen and I were walking past the McDonald's near the Houses of Parliament on Whitehall (the same McD's that was one of the anarchists' main targets in the riots back in April) and I spotted Ms Boothroyd walking toward us. 'Oh my God, it's Betty Boothroyd!' I hissed in a whisper to Jen and our companions (two Irish guys Jen knows). Everyone else was like, 'Who?'...but maybe they're just way cooler than me and don't freak when they see history walking down the street.
12 July, 2000
More Northern Ireland bullshit. Jeez. I'm so sick of hearing about how if the parades' commission would just let the Orangemen march down the Garvaghy Road, everything would be just peachy, no one else would get shot or set on fire or carbombed or beaten up by gangs of angry Protestants. I really, really do not take sides in this, but the hardcore Unionists are doing no one any favours by trying to bring about anarchy. One of my dearest friends lives in Belfast, and if I don't hear from her for a day, I immediately worry that she's been caught in the crossfire. Like the day a bunch of thugs kicked down her door and started threatening her.
Ugh. No more.
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Once again, Lars Ulrich proves just how little he actually knows about Napster, commenting, 'Our catalogue of music simply became available for free downloads on the Napster system.' Lars, Napster doesn't hold your music on its system. It's on other people's hard drives. And your music was available for free downloads years before Napster arrived on the scene. Still, though, it's good to see one politician with his head on his shoulders; Vermont Senator Patrick Leahy said at the Senate Judiciary Committee hearings, 'Let's not strangle the baby in the crib. Let's make it work.'
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Quote of the Day, courtesy of Jon-Jon:
Computers were designed by someone who looked outside as a child, and concluding it wasn't worth it, said, "Nah," then retreated into the soothing familiarity of brown shag carpeting, erector sets and Mom's loving enemas.
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Do we really need to know how Bill Clinton's penis got its name? Of course we don't, but there's the link anyway.
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I'm so glad to see Mighty Big TV and Hissyfit sister site Fametracker get its due in this Time article. And let me add that I just can't wait for Media Hog.
11 July, 2000
Oh, man. I know you're sick of hearing about her (or you will be soon), but India Knight has granted me an interview for my new project -- only five minutes after I asked her for one. I am at once thrilled and frightened.
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Rejoice: Stee is back! Go read today's entry, featuring the begging-to-be-quoted line, 'I looked down and saw come all over the floor.' It's some funny.
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Since I am utterly in love with India Knight's new book, My Life on a Plate, I thought I'd share with you a choice excerpt:
I've had facials before, in anticipation of a party or a date, that have left me...well, I don't think 'deformed' is too strong a word. Certainly in need of a brown paper bag: red, swollen, with raised, furious welts all over my newly treated face, left to roam the streets of London wailing, 'I am a human being,' like John Merrick. I have suffered. I have been the Elephant Girl.
Most facials, I reflect as I park the car, are a bloody disgrace. And then of course there's the small talk: 'Now, since you have enormous pores, I'll just apply our special Big Round Shiny Acne Face toner.' Or perhaps: 'There's a lot of grease around the nose area, and of course the chin...Well, we haven't been cleansing very thoroughly, have we? I'll just smear on some Kill Yourself Now, You Human Oilslick cream over the worst bits.'
Most of it is about how life with her husband and children resembles an okayish entree, something which is edible but could make her want to eat it more. Her life on a plate, metaphorically speaking, hence the title. I wish I could quote the whole book here. Alas, you'll just have to go and buy it. Or let me buy it for you, whatever.
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Last time my victim was Tori Spelling; this time, it's Courtney Love.
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Ian is always on my case for using ketchup; he's a freak and never, ever uses it, and claims just the smell of it disgusts him. Like I said, freak. I must say, though, that I'll be doing him a favour by steering clear of this stuff. I had enough trouble dealing with blue M&M's, let alone green ketchup.
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Don't government ministers have better things to do than harass pub owners over the names of their establishments? I mean, I just won't ever have a meal in the Dog and Rat pub on Earl's Court Road in London, but if New Labour was knocking on their door and pestering them about it, I might just give them a tenner for their trouble. Seriously, guys, if you need a list of fucked up things about this country that you could be dealing with -- the transport crisis, for one -- call me.
10 July, 2000
Watch this space.
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Private Eye scribe Victor Lewis-Smith is surely the only good thing going for the Daily Mirror. Knowing, as you do if you pay attention, my loathing of Chris Evans, I cackled with delight when I read his savaging of the man talent forgot. 'TFI Over,' indeed.
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Any picture of Price William playing with another boy's bottom will always get a link from me.
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Within 24 hours of its debut, Tony Blair's Labour government tried to have this site shut down, threatening its web host with legal action. Just when I think New Labour can't make itself any more reprehensible in my eyes, it has to go and prove me wrong.
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As I've said before, I'm a major fan of satirical magazine Private Eye; the only thing that could make me love it more would be if it didn't transfer so much black ink onto my fingers. So I expected this article explaining the origins of the forty-year-old periodical to be very interesting. Sadly, it was not. But here's a gem of a letter from the most recent issue's Lookalikes section:
Sir,
Has anyone noticed the remarkable similarity between Sting, the rock star who has campaigned fearlessly against global warming, deforestation, and the exploitation of animals by humans; and Sting, the rock star, who can now be seen on the television endorsing the Jaguar S-Type, which does fifteen miles to the gallon, and is finished in teak and finest leather.
Very best wishes,
RICHARD PETTINGER,
Littlestone, Kent.
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According to Richard Brooks of the Sunday Times (London), Warner Brothers has told him that the Harry Potter film may be set in the US, and Harry himself may be played by an American, explained away as 'an English-born boy who came to live [in the US]'. You know, I haven't even read any of these books, but that seems really wrong. Isn't this world American enough? Does every successful book (High Fidelity, I'm looking at you) really need to be Americanised in order to be sold to an American audience? I mean, I know us Yanks are -- on the whole -- an insular bunch, but The Full Monty and Four Weddings and a Funeral were a success without being set in the US, so can we please put the kibosh on these plans? It's bad enough that Chris 'Bicentennial Man' Columbus is directing, isn't it?
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In yet another great piece, Sars makes me glad I didn't have a big-ass wedding.
