Mine

2009-02-02T09:01:00.002Z

Hammond's New Hair

2007-12-09T21:03:00.000Z

No no no no no no.

I just want to watch grown up telly

2007-11-28T22:30:00.000Z

Oh dear this is a moaning post. I’m not much a fan of them especially when it’s not particularly clever or witty but this has gone too far.

What happened to proper breakfast telly? I know it’s first thing in the morning but I don’t want to listen to lightweight rubbish; it’s one of very few times I actually get to see the news and I’d like it be about something important.

Generally I watch BBC Breakfast in the hope that it’s a bit less filled with fluffy nonsense as GMTV. But really they’re just the same. For example, a few weeks back there was some news story about rules of dating. Then more recently about whether people still sit at the table to eat their tea. I can understand reporting these things, they’re interesting bite-sized nuggets. But why, oh why, invite experts in and sit there and debate the “issue” for half the time I’m getting ready?

Just this morning some “hard-hitting” news story appeared saying “scientists” (probably) had figured out how much of their lives women spend getting ready. Turns out it’s quite a lot. WELL who knew?

I fail to see how this qualifies as newsworthy, let alone worth lengthy discussion on breakfast television. They always wheel out this Barbie-looking doll woman to repeat obvious banalities as if she’s the correspondent for stupid women everywhere, genuinely looking as though she’s an authority on why women have lots of shoes and put on makeup. If I wanted to listen to this gubbins I’d watch GMTV, that’s what it’s there for and it does the job quite well. Where on terrestrial am I supposed to go if I want some proper news in the morning?

For some reason my London bedroom can barely pick up radio waves and really cannot be fussed firing up the laptop to listen to internet radio.

Honestly at this rate my brain is just going to rot between that and the London Paper.

I was going to go on a rant about NME but think I’ll leave it alone. Everyone else will be blogging about it anyway.

Proof that there is almost no innovation in modern music anymore

2007-11-04T14:26:00.000Z

Don't most bands still look exactly like this?

Sex

2007-10-28T21:34:00.000Z

Once again men have proved that they are long long overdue a status change from "dominant sex" to "if left to their own devices the sky would fall in sex" with this latest story of a man who chose to try and shag a bicycle. The hapless chap was in the privacy of a motel room and probably shouldn't have been put on the sex offenders' register but still it does make one wonder why on earth someone would do that. And how.

But, not wishing to assume that only men are stupid enough to try and have sex with inanimate (and presumably potentially painful) objects, I whacked "woman caught having sex with" and "man caught having sex with" into Google to see what came out.

At the very top of the "women" pile was "woman caught having sex with horse". So far nothing too unexpected. I know if you heard about one of your mates having sex with a horse it would be exceedingly scandalous but stories like this are hardly unheard of.

Fourth one down - after the next two both being the sex with horse story - is "woman caught having sex with best man". Well that's just downright dull. And it leads to a fairly pornographic site, just to give fair warning.

After that comes a post from someone's blog who thinks they're an authority on politics, society and religion. Even duller.

After that there's a few more "other husband types" and a couple of "dogs" but that's it. Google only finds two pages of results.

For the men, well, it's an entirely different story. Compare 15 results with 3,760. Yes, we really shouldn't be letting you lot out unattended anymore.

Top of that pile is the oft-clicked BBC story on the Sudanese man who was forced to marry his goat after being caught doing naughty things to it. In this story it's the goat I feel sorry for.

The second is another "dog" story which is fairly standard in terms of bestiality tales. The third one is much more disturbing: "man caught having sex with the four-day-dead dog of his girlfriend".

After a few more Sudanese goat hits comes the also unappealing "man caught having sex with dead deer". Seriously, what is it about a dead deer that makes a man see it in the same manner as a busty blonde with "fuck me" written on her t-shirt?

From there we come to a "calf" and a "sheep". And only then do we reach the end of the first page of results.

Further on we come to some prostitutes (hardly news), more goats, other family pets, a blow up doll, minors, other men's wives and the like. Not quite as illuminating as one may hope but there's still those who choose to indulge in necro-bestiality holding up the side.

Should this appeal to anyone apparently sexing animals is legal in Holland, Sweden, Finland, Mexico, Norway and Denmark. Just so you know.

Invasion

2007-10-25T21:32:00.000Z

The cats of Very East London are invading and I have photographic evidence to prove it. Waking this morning I open my curtains to find a furry devil face staring in at me, trying his best to tempt me to open the window. He rubbed his face against the frame, stood on his hind legs and generally stared in a manipulative sort of fashion. But I was not to be fooled. Knowing his only intention was to make me sneeze like a bastard, and possibly use his powers to make my eyes swell up to look like I've been punched, I ignored his desperate pleas. Then I noticed he'd brought soldiers with him. There they stood on a distant shed, snipers at the ready, to complete attention, constantly checking around to make sure no outsider could thwart their master's plan of getting inside.

I tried to shake off their majestic ways by going for a shower and to make porridge and things. But still they did not desist, for their determination was most fierce. The silent, sneaky pleading continued until I had no other choice but to leave the house, else I'd be drawn into their thrall. And I had to go to work.

By the time of my return they had returned to their base, clearly admitting defeat. But they shall be back. And I shall be prepared.

The perils of sharing a name with someone who is off the telly.

2007-09-16T22:57:00.001Z

Them who know me know that I am largely upset by the arrival and ongoing presence of a TV presenter who has my name. Many people even happen by this very blog thanks to Googling/Yahooing her. No doubt those particular people will find this post most amusing. However, once here they find that I am, in fact, much better at the internet than she is because not only have I bagsied catherinegee.blogspot.com but I’ve also got catherinegee.co.uk. So boo her.

Anyway, despite being mostly a vacuum of nothingness on my TV she somehow has managed to pick up some rather mental fans. She also works for a company seemingly populated by inept morons because as of a month or so ago they began forwarding her fan mail to my London address.

The level of security at the BBC is honestly staggering.

The content of these letters suggests that they are mainly written by people who have yet to be acquainted with both the outside world and other members of the population who don’t come into their lives via a magic box in their living room.

The first letter; typed absolutely and completely as it was written:

27^th July 2007

Dear Catherine Gee (Escape to the Country)

Hello my name is ***** ***, I am a 45 years of age and I am a really big fan of Escape to the Country I really do enjoy it very much I really do enjoying watching you on the show very much Catherine

May I just take this time to pass on to you Catherine my very best wishes and my congratulations to you.

Please could I have an autographed photo of you Catherine or a letter from you.

My Very Best Wishes

***** **** (male)

Makes your skin crawl doesn’t it?

I initially I found it exceedingly amusing and then spent a while pondering how on earth it got to my house. I have since formulated a theory that is probably correct. Having applied for a job with the BBC my address has been placed in a vast, all-encompassing electronic address book which anybody can search through. They searched her name when this letter appeared and decided mine must be it.

Second letter (on lovely pink and yellow writing paper):

10^th August 2007

Dear Catherine Gee.

I really enjoy watching “Escape to the Country”. I think it is such a fantastic show. I love the way you present it and try to help the couples wanting to buy their dream home.

I know how busy you must be, but I wonder would you PLEASE send me a signed photograph?

Thank you very much.

Good luck and Best Wishes.

******* ****** (female)

I actually feel sorry for this poor lady. She really does want an autograph and she sent her request on such lovely paper.

Third letter, complete with stamped addressed envelope to ensure a reply:

24^th August 2007

Dear Catherine,

Could you please Could you please let me have a syned Photo I would be very grateful for all your help in letting me have a photo wishing you all the very best

Love from

******* (male)

I don’t much want to make fun of that because he could actually be special needs. Or at least I hope he is.

Anyway I have since begun a process of trying to tell the BBC that they’re sending me the wrong letters. I’ve made about four phone calls and each time I am told to ring a different department. The next one should be the final one. It has taken days to get this far because I have to make the calls from work and I am very conscious of how daft I sound saying these things down the phone.

I'm exceedingly glad I'm not famous.

Why do bad things keep happening?

2007-09-05T22:42:00.000Z

Oh god, everything is awful. Pavarotti is going to die soon which is terrible because he has an awesome beard and voicebox. And he's dying of pancreatic cancer which, anyone on the Mag course 2007 knows, he very much IS going to die. Which is rubbish.

There have been sodding tube strikes which have just been entirely pointless and based on an archaic idea of employment that that fat, cockney Crow seems to think still exists. This one was finished early but they're threatening another next week. Someone needs to tap him on his lightbulb head and remind him that the rest of London have jobs too. And many of us don't get paid 30 grand.

Honestly, if they're going to strike then the rest of London should perform a tube staff member only strike in protest against not being able to get to work on time. If, while they're taking their days off, any of them tries to go anywhere or do anything we should refuse to serve them. That's no transport, no electricity or water running to their houses, no lessons for their kids at school, no medical treatment, nothing. Then see how they like it.

He must be stopped

2007-09-03T20:18:00.000Z

I think this is now turning into a list of the disasters I am forced to face. Floods, strikes... errr... 50 Cent.

I won't blog extensively about the tubes, because every other bugger in London will do precisely that.

Everybody buy Kanye West's new album

2007-08-11T18:47:00.000Z

50 Cent has threatened to stop writing and recording solo material if Kanye West's album outsells his own. That's reason enough for me. Go and pre-order now. They're both out on the same day next month sometime.

It was like the apocalypse

2007-07-22T12:42:00.000Z

On Friday me and my ever-tolerant parents embarked on a trip to Cardiff to gather all my world belongings and then move them London-wards the following day. A simple task, I’m sure you will agree. But then a mini-apocalypse happened. Rain hurled down, the country was getting quickly buried underwater and then (so we’re told) part of the M5 motorway disappeared under 2 feet of water as well. All the local roads near Worcester were closed due to flooding so anyone with the clever idea of getting off the motorway and taking the A roads were met by the same gridlock. And that’s only those who could reach a motorway junction.

Traffic crawled on and off until about midnight when it hit a complete standstill. Occasionally we would move about ten yards and then engines would be turned back off. Stomachs began grumbling and mouths were becoming dry but sadly we had had only a small bottle of water which I had bought from the Spar on the way and that was long gone. The rain outside seemed to be taunting us in our thirst. We had nothing to subsist on but a giant novelty Toblerone which we happened to have in the car.

BBC Radio Hereford and Worcester were clearly in their element, doing non-stop reporting of what’s probably the biggest story to happen there in a long time. They took calls from hundreds of people stuck in the deadlock, hearing their stories and getting more information from them than from the police or Highways Agency. Some poor souls had been trapped since the afternoon and as you can imagine there were coach loads of children and old people, people with diabetes and all manner of types ill-equipped for a night on a motorway.

One caller from South Africa was finding the whole process very amusing and repeated his father’s old adage of ‘there’s the right way and there’s the English way’ to do things. And he was absolutely right. This was very much the ‘English way’. Rather than taking their chances with the floodwater the police just trapped tens of thousands of people on a motorway with no access to food, water or toilets. And then they left us there without even bothering to give the local radio station any information as to what the hell was going on.

By the time we drove past the formerly flooded area there was no evidence of its assault on the motorway, merely a very fat and swelled river on the left. Now, I’m no car expert but I’m fairly sure most cars can handle a foot or two of water, especially if they’re lorries or SUVs. Yet the police chose to wait until around 7am to set us free.

Sometime in the early hours it was reported that the police had opened up a gap in the central reservation to allow cars onto the mostly clear northbound side and let them head back up north. This was mostly pointless as the vast majority of the stuck motorists had no intention of going back north and most who were near the gap flatly refused to go through it. Had we ever made it anywhere near the gap, my father was holding similar determination and he was all geared up to give whatever Highways chap who was cheeky or arrogant to him (as they were apparently being) the verbal bitchslap of a lifetime. Unfortunately the opportunity never arose.

Around 3am Mother and I took a wander up the middle of the motorway for the purposes of stretching our legs and investigating just how far we were from the now famous (to all those listening to BBC Hereford and Worcester) Strensham Services. The situation was very surreal. It was now only lightly raining but the air was still heavy and humid. Cars all around had switched off their engines and lights and most contained people slumped in their seats, fast asleep. It was like being in our own horror or sci fi film. Occasionally we saw people walking around looking rather despaired and men nipping over to the edge of the motorway to relieve themselves.

In all it took us 15 hours to drive from Lancaster to Cardiff, 11 hours later than our original plan. Surely a record never to be beaten. I am just proud of my very sleep-deprived father’s ability not fall asleep at the wheel as we then made the trip from the M5 to Cardiff then an almost immediate jaunt from Cardiff to London before they then headed back again. Well, I think they made it back okay. I haven’t heard.

EDIT: I entirely forgot I took photos. So here they are. The mini-apocalypse in all its glory.

Apologies for my rubbish camera phone but it was at night and raining.

My mother's hand. Holding the only water we had. Which by then was mostly gone.

The offending river. Which looked more like a giant lake. Throw your evil looks upon it.

How can onions be so mean?

2007-07-17T22:00:00.000Z

I never realised there was such a secret blessing to having to wear contact lenses until I chopped onions in my glasses earlier today. Good lord, they're horrible, those onions are. It felt like my eyes were on fire, stinging merrily away and causing me to cry horrendously. When wearing contacts the eye is protected from their evil retina-gouging vapours and I had mostly forgotten onions were even associated with making people cry. But JESUS, it's awful. I was stood in the middle of the kitchen moaning aloud in agony. How can a food I love so much be so cruel to my eyes? And more's the point how on earth do you regular-sighted people do it?

2007-07-09T18:04:00.000Z

Earlier today I saw one bee use its leg to kick another bee off a flower. Kind of like John McClane.

I'm in the north

2007-07-07T12:47:00.000Z

I don't really like it. But it's okay because I'm not here for long. Because soon I will have a job. STOP laughing, I will. Surely.

Anyway apart from being blamed for everything that I had nothing to do with I've been intermitting my time up north by going to London and winning one sevenths of an award. Which was super fun, especially knowing that we were in the Reuters building being told we were ace by important media people and having our pictures taken by a friendly photographer with a very big lens who I can only assume works for Reuters too. I'd like to think he was photoing hungry black children the previous week or something else as equally important as us winning something.

And our magazine was about GHOSTS and ALIENS and things.

My mother was even nice enough to buy me some Cadburys Heroes as a well done. Although, I think she's stolen all the Whole Nuts and either eaten them or run off the Isle of Mull with them in her possession. Sneak.

Makes me foam

2007-07-04T11:43:00.000Z

Dr Who...Catherine Sodding Tate...

Why is this woman allowed on TV? I mean honestly who in the BBC thinks she's talented? She MUST be offering out sexual favours. It's the only possibly explanation. My cat is more amusing to watch than that awful non-comedian. She thought up one funny joke once and she's created an entire programme based on it.

I'm becoming increasingly convinced that all women called Catherine are talentless chumps. Except me of course, who they are continually giving a bad name to. Catherine Tate: entirely rubbish. Catherine Zeta-Jones: No obvious talent to speak of aside from an ability to grin and bear it during bedtime with her husband. Catherine Gee: (the other one) silly posh woman with a funny shaped body.

If you can think of a Catherine who isn't an almighty waste of space do let me know.

This isn't really a very interesting blog but there's nothing happening on Facebook and I'm waiting for some internet tv to load on my father's exceedingly slow internet.

I know this has been posted on every blog from here to Tim-buked-too...

2007-06-10T14:46:00.001Z

...But I don't care.

Sod Johnny Depp. Sod Robert Plant. Sod Ghandi and anyone else who has done anything good during this short time Earth has existed. The new Greatest Person EVER is now Judge Michael Sauer. Having nothing of her attempts to avoid rightly doing time, he has sent Paris Hilton's filthy arse back to prison where she belongs. Paying off medics (not proved, only my opinion so you can bugger off media lawyers), paying even more to lawyers and probably a couple of bob extra to the prison sheriff has done no good thanks to this man. This is a woman who clearly should not be allowed to walk the streets given at any moment her stupidity will cause her to kill someone with her car. Which, if it was me, would be possibly the most insulting way to die, quite frankly, ever. EVER.

I can't find a photo of the judge in my 2 minutes of looking so I've taken what I believe to be an accurate interpretation of him so we can all hail his powers of wonder.

And do know that I wrote this whilst dancing triumphantly in my chair to Lovecats by The Cure.

Not just any old Monday

2007-06-03T15:14:00.000Z

Normally I don't like Mondays. I like them even less when I have exam and a deadline and am likely to be suffering the kind of tummy pain that only girls get.

But this isn't any regular Monday. This is the Monday where The World's Biggest Waste Of Space That's Not Kate Beckinsale has to walk herself into prison. For the next 23 days (which is far from long enough) Paris Hilton will be in jail for being a brainless skank who's too stupid to realise when she's been banned from driving.

The only issue here is she's apparently planning on writing a diary of her prison experience. I call for this literary work to be treated with the same contempt as Mein Kampf, ideally banned in as many countries as possible. The boycott begins here. Do not fall to temptation. Spread the word.

Full Ponty Fashion Awards

2007-05-27T23:16:00.000Z

For those who missed the opportunity to attend this year's Full Ponty one day festival you will not have had the chance to marvel at the way certain Valleys inhabitants choose to dress themselves. But do not be concerned for I photographed the best of them and placed them here for the glory of the internet. Mainly because there was nothing to do for the first two hours.

First I'll start it off fairly tame with kids who haven't yet realised that the Towers of London ruined this look forever. Not that it was that good a look to begin with. But now, it's definitely bad.

I just hope this guy is gay.

Does anyone know what 'I heart ML' actually is? Though, the star here is really the chap in the red trousers. Genius, really.

Fat people. Running.

That large lady there also had a pentagram pierced into her back and looked like a demented tooth fairy. Notice also the exceedingly underage kid in front drinking not one but two bottles of WKD bought for him by his dad.

What happened to Guardian Unlimited?

2007-05-10T11:30:00.000Z

Was this change always planned and I just haven't been reading my Media Guardian closely enough?

I don't like it at first glance, anyway. For one they, like many other web design companies, assume everyone has a 1024 x 768 screen. Well I don't, okay? I'm poor and have a Lancaster University reject from five years ago and can't afford a new one. So just to kick me while I'm down the Guardian website now forces me to scroll across as well as down. Well thanks for that.

Also, busy things scare me. There's too much jumping off the screen fighting for my eyes' attention. Too much, too much. Less is more.

Come to think of it, it looks a lot like The Times's new website...

And suddenly the incidence of anorexia among inmates skyrockets

2007-05-06T17:42:00.000Z

Paris Hilton is being sent to prison. This is possibly the most brilliant thing that will happen for the next twenty years.

She was was caught driving her car whilst banned after having been arrested for drink driving back in February. She claimed she didn't know she was banned despite the paper work telling her so being in her glove compartment. We can't automatically assume she's lying, though. The woman probably wouldn't notice had there been a family of scorpions living in the glove compartment too. Or on the dashboard, for that matter.

I sincerely wish I could be a fly on the wall in that prison. Or possibly just become an inmate for a few of the days she's there. Then I could force-feed her Snickers bars until she's a fatty.

Mmm...work

2007-04-30T19:47:00.000Z

It has once again become that time of year where what used to be a fairly active, reasonably interesting life turns into a vast chasm of nothingness whilst I get on with the mountain of uni work set. Every year it coincides with the weather getting nicer and an urge to take myself to a park armed with an exciting book and sit under a tree looking intelligent. However, I can't do that because almost all the work I have to do involves sitting at a computer, slowly turning into a pale invalid with a crooked back, listless eyes and spreading muffin tops.

I have tried doing regular revision outside but the bright sunlight always kills my concentration anyway. And so the days slide on and on. Idling about the house, spending vast hours in front of the computer. Cooking increasingly imaginative dishes to avoid having to go back upstairs and continue with the toil.

It is this time of year the internet gets its fullest hammering as I wander onto various places looking for a distraction. Despite being a film fan I've never much been one for checking out upcoming film trailers but I have done this time in the case of Harry Potter and I must say it looks thoroughly spectacular.

On an entirely different note I had a meander through the Guardian website (before I went and bought the paper anyway) and was reminded of the journalistic catastrophe that is Hadley Freeman. I thought she was ludicrous before I took myself off for work experience at G2 and it only confirmed my suspicions. This is a woman who has made her career writing about the most flimsy, nonsense topics and she has been rewarded for it by columns and senseless published articles. Having actually been in her presence now I can confirm that she does indeed have a nasty nasal American accent neatly matched with that naive arrogance often found amongst people of her type. The kind who are largely wasted on journalism.

Farewell to music on regular TV

2007-04-28T10:02:00.000Z

As announced in a disapproving fashion by Popjustice Channel 4 have axed Popworld.

Popworld being the 'offbeat' programme presented by Alex Zane and Alexa Chung who pretend to be improvising but very clearly aren't. The premise is they allow pop stars onto the programme to plug their latest single/album/tour and place them into bizarre situations where the presenters do their solid best to steal all the attention by dressing in daft clothes, doing inappropriate things and so on.

Once upon a time this was done very well and in subtle measure by Simon Amstell and Miquita Oliver. Relying more on comic timing and cleverly chosen questions, Amstell, in particular, was a joy to watch and it is no real surprise that he has risen to the challenge of presenting Never Mind the Buzzcocks very well.

Zane and Chung had rather big boots to fill when they took over the presenting spots and generally took the abstract humour too far and appeared tryhard. The downfall of the programme has more to do with the producers' failure to keep it fresh than anything else, I would imagine. But, as Popjustice point out, it does reflect a trend in programming.

It seems no one wants to watch programmes about music anymore. At least not music made by professionals. For some reason the actual 'star' bit isn't interesting anymore. Viewers want to watch them on their way up in talent shows. They want to see them graft and pay their dues whilst being simulateously judged by a vast quantity of the population. Then, when they are successful, they lose all interest. This is not helped by the big lack of music-related programmes for them to use to maintain public interest anyway.

It seems that if said stars aren't bawling their eyes out on screen or generally letting the cameras into the most personal areas of their lives (or gossip columns) then the viewers just don't want to know.

Programmes I'd rather see axed in the place of Neighbours

2007-04-26T22:05:00.000Z

Earlier today I received a distressed message from a fellow journo based in the depths of South England alerting my attention to this. So I decided to compile a list thus saving the problem for the BBC.

The programmes I'd rather see axed from BBC1 & 2 than Neighbours
1. Homes Under The Hammer
2. To Buy Or Not To Buy
3. Car Booty
4. Bargain Hunt
5. Snooker
6. Eggheads
7. My Family
8. Ruddy Hell! It's Harry And Paul (awful, dreadful, appalling programme)
9. Just For Laughs
10. Casualty
11. The episodes of Cash In The Attic that don't have Alistair Appleton in
12. Songs Of Praise
13. Holby City
14. Garden Invaders
15. The Catherine Tate Show
16. Hustle (maily because of the woman with silly lips)
17. The Weakest Link
18. DIY SOS

I have even intentionally left out the godawful talent programmes as I know they make the BBC money from phone-ins and are, therefore, not a valid argument for axing in the place of Neighbours.

Snoop Dogg is horrible

2007-04-26T19:34:00.002Z

Australia have banned Snoop Dogg which is quite a brilliant thing to do. Of all the nasty nasty humans out there Snoop Dogg always strikes as one of the nastiest with probably no redeeming qualities (he may spend his free time donating blood and driving blind kids to school but I doubt it). Take aside the fact that he takes and deals drugs and wanders about with an item that is only used for killing things, his drawn, thin features make him look very evil and creepy. He certainly doesn't have the features of a regular African person. Rather he resembles what black man would look like had he been merged with a particularly ratty looking rat. But then one can't judge an entire person on their looks. Where would the media be if they did that?

Except, well, they do do that. But it's okay if you're a rapper who struts around with hundreds of thousands of dollars of jewellery about their person. They could look like chicken pox-covered John Prescott and the media still would never bat an eyelid. Nor would there be any shortage of lumpy-bodied slags following them around.

You can, however, take this man's lyrics into consideration. You know those words millions of impressionable poor kids hang onto as if they were free Nike trainers.
For example:

"You don't know who to trust cause you might get shot" (Too Black) - Well if that doesn't make kids want to carry guns around what will?

"I'm Dr. Martin Luther King with two guns on" (Gangbangn 101) - He wishes. If Dr King heard him say that he'd quite rightly poke him in the eye and tell him not to be so stupid.

"I gangbang but I'm the opposite of Tookie Williams
Red Lambo', red bandana print ceilin'
Me and Snoop got the West Coast locked
Red and blue rag tied in a knot
With all my motherfuckin' homies yellin' out" (Gangbangn 101) - Just in case you're not sure Snoop Dogg is in the very notorious Crips gang. I don't speak gangsta so my interpretation of these lyrics is sketchy. But he most certainly condones gangs. I assume gangbang still means gang rape but who knows these days. "The opposite of Tookie Williams" could mean Tookie then (when he was bad) or Tookie now (executed by California but by then was very sorry for his crimes and had been nominated for a Nobel peace prize) but I'm not sure I like the sound of either.

"Now bitch, check it out, where my money, c'mon break it out
Just sayin hoe, I ain't playin c'mon, take it out
Dick down the track, c'mon, we gon' work it out
Straight pimp shit we on, we gon' church it out
(If you don't know) I'm quick to change up stick
My dick in yo' mouth and aim up
Open up your eyes you'll see my navel
Flip down my drawers, you'll see that label
Sniffed so much 'caine/Kane, the bitch got able/Abel
Put the switch on, directed my cable
Splash! What head work and what ass
Bitch stop my dick hurtin, now fuck Daz
Run fast if I tell ya bitch walk
Get caught, I'm takin all that bitch got
I don't need no relationship
All I really had in mind was my dick, yo' face and lips, c'mon" (Lollipop) - I think that speaks for itself.

Luckily Britain have already had the good sense to ban him which means I am at no risk of happening upon him in the street and him saying inappropriate things about my lack of a bottom. And that could have happened, you know. He had intended upon playing in Cardiff.

All that is needed now is for every country on the planet bar possibly a very small remote island somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean to ban him and his ratty face. THEN he wouldn't be menacing anyone.

Kids don't read magazines anymore. Geddit?

2007-04-18T13:14:00.000Z

For all those who are labouring under the misapprehension that running a magazine is easy and all you need is determination.

http://www.brandrepublic.com/MediaWeekDailyNewsAlert/News/651425/Popworld-Pulp-folds-two-issues/

Even a known brand name can't do it. There was hardly a gap in the market for it though.

Apologies for the raw link, I'm typing on a Mac and there are only spell check and picture buttons and no HTML option.

On another note I've spent about two hours stressing over a Gareth Gates interview standfirst. They'll probably change it and I'll resign myself to never having a career as a sub.

Please

2007-03-28T15:49:00.000Z

Won't anyone of you visitors tell me why you decided to Google my name? Are we friends? Or are you a fan of the z list celebrity? Or is it your name?

Entirely separate, they've taken that bloody annoying Trident ad off the telly. Not because it's annoying but because it's racist. Both are equal crimes in my eyes.

It's quite strange but

2007-03-26T18:15:00.000Z

People are still looking at this blog. I know because a special internet website told me. What's more the vast majority are getting here by googling me.

Now I don't know if they're actually googling me. I'd like to think they are, but it's more likely they're googling this dreadful woman.

Well if you are reaching here because you're search MY name then thank you. If you're honestly looking for websites about that non-entity of a presenter then please tell me what on earth for?

On another note, Wikipedia just told me that 'gee' is, in Ireland, another word for vagina. Well that's lovely.

My poor eyes

2007-01-07T19:53:00.000Z

My blog links need a bit of spring clean. I just made the mistake of clicking on Gary's.

Bloody Americans

2007-01-05T22:28:00.001Z

That there on the left is "Ugly Betty". Except ugly Betty is actually rather attractive. I'm sure many a lesser-looking person is genuinely jealous of this 'ugly Betty'.

Is it so damn hard to actually cast an ugly person in an ugly role. Or is that too much for those fat, lazy Americans to cope with? For some reason a person can never be properly ugly, they can only ugly themselves up by adding to their existing appearance. Put on glasses for a bit ugly. Braces make you definitely ugy. All you need now is a dopey fringe and poor dress sense. How much would you like to bet that she gets herself a makeover (and becomes a better person as a result) before the end of the program? If only it was so easy for the rest of us.

I still can't get used to this two blogs thing.

On a separate note, I'll be very much surprised if anyone still reads this. A firm pat on the back if you do, though.

ME and my nevers

2006-11-28T11:32:00.000Z

Geordie says to do this. He says other people have to too.

It's a list of ten things I'll never do. I'm currently in a lecture learning InDesign so I'll probably do the full ten now.

1. Write a blog post as funny as Dr Matt.
2. Embrace the phenomenon of Coca-Cola/Pepsi/any of its varieties. It tastes like sweat of a fat person who's got AIDS but the people of the world have their tastebuds blinded by clever marketing.
3. Never write a politics-led post as good as Geordie. He's diverse don't you know.
4. Dye my hair blonde.
5. Buy anything to do with ABBA.
6. Stop getting excited when I get a new mobile phone.
7. Stop being embarrassed by at least 10% of everything I do/say/fall off (it used to be higher so I'm doing well).
8. Learn to accept that I'm a tree-trunk-stomper-legs.
9. Stop worrying and learn to love the fruit and veg over chocolate and pastry goods.
10. Use excrement in sexual/culinary acts.

I can't be bothered tagging people as I reckon Geordie will have already tagged them. I would urge you to take part though. For the good of mankind.

This is a duplicated blog post as now that I have two blogs I can't decide where to put it. Thanks.

The potential of YouTube

2006-11-22T16:21:00.000Z

T'other day I was stood in my housemate's room while he showed me this funny video he'd found via something via something via FHM which was a based around Google Earth and featured a quick zoom from space down to a giant crevasse which looks very much a like a lady's special places. It was fairly amazing and the internet does provide much scope indeed for amusing videos and animations.

When the video came to a finish my eye wandered over the similar videos recommended on the right hand side. Top of the list was the (supposed) footage from Steve Irwin's death. I pondered for approximately two seconds about whether or not I would want to watch it to then quickly decide that, no, I had no interest in it. Boy Housemate III iterated similar thoughts and I moseyed on back upstairs.

A quick search of "steve irwin death" brings up over 700 hits on YouTube. Many claim to be the real thing, others say it may be the real thing but they don't know and others are just spoofs, mock ups or tributes. I don't know whether or not the real thing actually is available, either on YouTube or anywhere else. I haven't opened any of the videos as I don't want to see it. But given the footage of the beheading of Ken Bigley was so easy to find, so I heard, I wouldn't be at all surprised.

It's one of those things where I always assumed the footage would have made it onto the net, I just never really considered it up until I was faced with it (possibly). No doubt many will go on the hunt for it for the kicks and out of pure curiosity. Personally I think it's one of those things I'd rather not regret seeing later. Much like Bad Boys 2 or The Sweetest Thing.

Cats are ace

2006-09-24T15:52:00.000Z

Can someone please buy me one of these.

Filthy filthy smokers

2006-09-19T14:21:00.000Z

There's been some news today. Welsh news. News that on April 2 next year the smoking ban will come into full force in Wales. That's even before Britain does it. 'Go Wales' for showing some initiative. BUT typically little has been said about how this ban is going to be policed. Now that will be very interesting to see.

According to the website that tells us about not smoking in public places this is what we have to do:

display of no-smoking notices (as specified in the draft regulations and forthcoming guidance) so that they are clearly visible to all employees, customers and visitors while they are in the premises;
developing and implementing a smoke-free policy;
removing all ashtrays from premises;
informing anyone smoking that he/she is committing an offence;
requesting that they extinguish their smoking material immediately or leave;
and refusing service if a customer or member continues to smoke in public.

AND:

The legislation creates three specific offences:

Failing to display no-smoking signs in premises covered by the law
Smoking in a smoke-free place
Failing to prevent smoking in a smoke-free place.

AND:

Authorised officers of the local authority will have powers to enter all no-smoking premises in order to establish that the smoke-free legislation is being enacted in accordance with the law. They will also be able to give out fixed penalty notices to people whom they believe are committing, or have committed, an offence under the legislation.

I know have something of a tendancy to complain about being a bar lady but this is surely justified. Aside from the occasional visit from an officer it is bar staff who will enforce this law in pubs, bars and clubs. Yet another LEGAL responsibility to add to 0ur minimum wage job. We already can be fined and sacked for serving drunk people and underage people and now we can either be fined or sacked ourselves or pass that to our managers (I'm not sure on how it will work) . Safe to say this is just another example of the government failing to take into account the affect this will have on the slave-wage workforce.

I imagine most people will adhere to the law without being asked, others who are being a bit 'sneaky' will just put their cigarette out without question. But you just know some pissed up dickhead will think they'll try their luck at arguing with whoever's unfortunate job it is to tell them to leave. Basically, once again we are forced to put ourselves in a position where we risk aggressive behaviour.

In all honesty I do that think that the ban is a good idea and it will probably help lots of social smokers to quit and save their money to spend on more drink (probably). I'd also quite like to be able to go out at night and not wake up with the smell of other people's smoke in my hair. My only beef is that I'd put good money to a bet that the government or the media don't consider for more than a second the effect that it will have on the poor bar staff who are forced to police it.

This post is intended without any possible offence to the friends I have that smoke. My thoughts on smoking are merely down to personal taste. All we need now is for a law on public urination to be enforced as I really don't appreciate catching sight of men grasping their penises whilst stood against a wall. HOW much would men complain if women did it? Remember, it's not that hard to just wait till you get home.

RIP Steve Irwin

2006-09-04T07:43:00.000Z

As many will already know Steve Irwin died last night. It came as a genuine shock. Despite the fact that he regularly trots around with animals who, before humans invented weapons, would have been FAR higher up the food chain than us, I think many of us who watched him started to think him invincible.

I got a text message at a little before 7am this morning. It simply said "Steve Irwin has died :(" I fell back to sleep and promptly started dreaming about it.

In my head Steve Irwin was mauled by an errant panda.

Boom

2006-08-22T13:49:00.000Z

I just remembered what it was I was going to blog about. And it's similarly unimportant rubbish, as are most/all of my blogs.

Thanks to Lord of the Rings all Welsh now sounds like Elvish to me. Much like the MC at graduation, my architect boss also has a big booming voice and talks in Welsh to pretty much everyone except me. He was stood outside my door talking to the silent partner earlier and I couldn't help but think how much more exciting he sounded. I'm sure they were actually talking about drawings and timber but as far as I was concerned they could have been discussing the impending orc attack upon our offices whilst stood atop Isengard.

I don't think I'll tell him that, though.

If only.

Snakes. On a Plane.

2006-08-18T12:02:00.000Z

And so the weekend is almost upon us. And with this weekend comes the 'so hyped it's had to be put on ritalin' Snakes on a Plane. We all know the story by now, silly title... blah blah... Samuel L. Jackson... blah blah... doesn't need no publicity as the Internet geeks have done it all for them... blah blah... Although I love the way the middle of the road magazine television programmes are treating it like they're telling everybody for the first time. I'd like to remind everybody that thanks to a certain TV Desker, Quench Film featured it before Easter.

What is rather good, I think, is that the studio and their in-built PR super do-nothing machine has not let a single critic see it. Or at least that's what the Guardian told me. One could suggest that they are hiding one real stinker of a film away from the press until they've had their opening weekend box office smash. Although, it could easily be argued that would happen whether the press hated it or not. What I do like is the sheer audacity and the nerve of the PR people. They've figuratively stuck two fingers up at the press and said 'well ego-maniacs, we don't need you'. Though, the fact that they're still allowing interviews and press events to go ahead makes me go 'hmm'.

The press are no doubt going to rinse it once they do get to see it. Newspapers, in particular, like nothing better than to rip a well-hyped film to shreds. It's a critic's way of saying 'I'm above the hype, don't you know.' To be honest, a film like this is just a bit of fun. If you take films too seriously then it's your own too bad.

But then it could be just plain terrible, who knows. To be honest I'm more interested in seeing A Scanner Darkly. But as it's my birthday on Wednesday and I'm too old/boring/lazy to do anything proper, I will be going to see Snakes on a Plane instead. Any/all are welcome to join.

We're all going to die!

2006-08-10T14:52:00.000Z

Horrid, filthy, nasty, bad Muslims trying to kill us all!

At least when the Christians unleashed holy wars upon the Western world they only had swords and cannons to use as persuasion tools. Now the Muslims have guns and bombs and explosives! What are we to do?

We could attack all the Muslims full throttle with everything we own that explodes or makes fire. But that would upset the people who don't like fire and dead people. But what if the Muslims win and make us all Muslim? That would upset ME! I don't want to be teetotal and learn to cook and wear a headscarf! Headscarves don't suit me, I have the wrong face shape.

How can we stop their evil plots? Look to superhero comics, that's how! They regularly battle against power-hungry ego-maniacs trying to take over the world. There must be one instance when an entire religion was at it. We just need to find their power source and remove it. Books with the word Koran in them? Oil? Headscarves? Hmm.

Judging from super newscaster Jon Snow's television programme on Channel 4 t'other day the British Muslims won't take much persuading to get involved in terrorist activity. Especially not if the booty at the end is a Muslim Britain. And now they've done this! They're going to eat us from the inside!

Well they're not getting past me until they promise they won't take Neighbours off the air.

This does distract public attention from that pesky war in Lebanon, though.

Cool

2006-08-08T12:26:00.000Z

I still use the word 'cool'. It never occurred to me until yesterday when the words 'okay cool' came out in front of a well-to-do architect who is currently my employer.

Do I use it often? I don't know, I have never really noticed. But it's an awful word and I don't like it, so steeped is it in slang cliche. It's been around since the 80s at least, one would think it would have died a death by now.

As far as I can tell the word is so ingrained into my vocabulary that it is as normal as 'yes' and 'please' and 'piss off I'm sleeping'. If that's the case how on earth do I get it out? I what would make a worthwhile replacement. 'Jolly good'? 'Capital'? 'Brilliant'? 'Super'?

Does anyone else even still use the word. God forbid, is it just me?

What's going on?

2006-08-04T12:30:00.000Z

July/Aug seems to be a heavy period for rock star deaths. First Syd Barrett once of Pink Floyd died, then the man he named as an influence, an interesting chap who was convinced he was going to die years ago then had no idea what to do when he didn't, Arthur Lee of Love has gone as well. I wonder if he'll get the same amount of coverage as Syd. Or if anyone still knows who he is.

EDIT: It ends not even there. Yesterday Kim McLagan who married both Keith Moon and Small Faces keyboard player Ian McLagan died as well. Admittedly she's only rock star by marriage but still.

Just when I think I can let go, something new pops up

2006-07-23T23:53:00.000Z

Oh ho ho ho. Look what I found. I am buying that.

England are out

2006-07-05T08:47:00.000Z

I told you so, I told you so.

Er...Something

2006-06-23T17:54:00.000Z

This week I been doing exam invigilating at Cardiff High School everyday and getting paid minimum wage for the privilege.

Yesterday, during a GCSE Media Studies exam, I saw a half-caste kid with corn rows using an actual hankerchief. Sod integration, that must be a true sign of the breakdown of culural barriers. How often do you ever see hankerchiefs anymore let alone on a teenage kid who's a bit black? Poor lad had it out every few minutes, so snotty was he. I decided that his embrace of extinct British culture was so impressive that I was quite taken with him by the end of the exam. But then bear in mind there isn't much to do during those hours of sitting.

That is, apart from today. It was the year 10 Welsh exam. A few were doing the proper course having taken it for GCSE but the vast majority of the sports hall had a short course inflicted upon them that was worth a measly half a GCSE. As you can imagine they weren't exactly putting much effort in concentrating. A few didn't even both filling out the exam paper, some others just doodled all over it. I was regularly asked when they could leave and keeping them quiet was something of a challenge. Thing is I can completely understand why they were getting agitated. Rather than keeping them quiet, the bigger task was keeping my face straight. The kids had been really good the whole week, they were only acting up because they couldn't give a shit about the exam. And who can blame them. The whole thing was hilarious. It does go to show that no matter what the Welsh Assembly and Welsh enthusiasts may harp on about, even Welsh kids couldn't give a rat's about being Welsh.

But, yeah, round my way all the comprehensive non-church schools are rough and scary places. I thought this was true of all schools but NO. Cardiff High is pretty nice school, though very large. The teachers are damn nice to them as well. When one kid turned up late he had a teacher saying gently to him, 'now take your time, get your breath and start when you're ready'. Not at my school I can tell you. Woah betide anyone who dares put their precious league table points at risk.

And on a completely separate note. I hate, abhor, abominate, deprecate, revile, despise, detest, deplore, execrate, loathe, hate, hate, hate, hate packing. RRRrrrrr!

Don't stone me

2006-06-17T12:05:00.000Z

I hate to be the one to break it to you folks but England do not have a hope in hell of winning the World Cup.

I know to make such a comment is little more than blasphemous treason but, let’s be honest, it’s true. In match number one they only won by the chance of an own goal; that being not even one that they scored themselves. Match number two it took them eighty minutes to even warm up. If that’s all they can manage against Paraguay and Trinidad and Tobago then how exactly are they going to match up against Germany or Brazil?

But that’s all by the by. Not only am I so sure England aren’t going to win, I actually hope they don’t. The British determination to convince themselves each year will be their year is becoming rather pathetic. Continually invoking victories past will not make this year as successful. The very fact that the last football victory was forty years ago is bad enough. But every European or World Cup it gets rolled out of the cupboard once again to be heralded as a moment of true greatness. Then every time they fail miserably.

Most people have finally come to realise that Tim Henman will never win Wimbledon, for some reason football fans are just a bit slower off the mark.

But in the non-existent chance that they do win I think I’ll pack up and leave the country. The media and consumer industries are already ridiculously saturated by the game as it is. And I really don’t want to witness the knighthood of Sir David Beckham and Sir Wayne Rooney thanks very much. As soon as the English get even the slightest sniff of victory that will be all we’ll hear FOREVER. The thought is unbearable.

We still friends, right?

How you say...one hit wonder

2006-06-08T22:35:00.000Z

I may be going daft in my old age but when did punk rockers ever wear flowers in their hair?

More family photo fun

2006-05-29T10:19:00.000Z

It's Jon Snow! Doesn't he look like the parent to his gair rhydd children? And he loves us.

Once again I couldn't resist posting my latest fun photo on this blog. I've decided that when I get round to it I'm going to make another, grown up blog given the daft nature of this one. Then I can keep this one to be as daft as I like it. I shall write about toads and pebbles and cups of tea and the times when I stumble off a path and fall into AA Gill.

2006-05-20T15:06:00.000Z

So it seems if you Google 'cats squished by high heel' this blog comes top of the results. Hmm.

And no more

2006-05-19T16:35:00.000Z

It's all very strange now 'revision' is over. The mix of assessment, Quench, finding the house and that bloody postgrad course began to create a stress which had even physical effects. Now it's all gone. Except Quench, of course, but I can more than deal with that now the others are gone. I could even handle it on my own.

I don't think my brain has caught up yet, though. Before there were lots of thoughts which had begun to shout over each other to be heard. Now they're mostly gone and it's normal brain stuff. But they're still shouting.

I used to be able to cope with pressure so much better when I was younger, for some reason I'm less good at it now. When I was 19 I did two fast track A Levels and worked two jobs for a whole year. That was fine. And I maintain that, apart from silly referencing, A Levels are harder than a Journalism degree. I did proper work without leaving it all to the last minute and was even given a special award for being, well, less special than most of the idiots who went to Lancaster and Morecambe College. There was also another, worse year before then but that's getting much too personal for a public forum.

Essentially I've been a touch, ahem, narky. Not an attractive feature, I'd wager. And I'm normally so well mannered...

Well now it's all over, as marked by mixed drinks on Wednesday. What was initially rather anti-climactic when tucking into food in the Woodville fortunately turned into proper good fun later that night. And I have some silly pictures to prove it.

But now I have to live up to my promise of baking my housemates biscuit and cake delights to aid them as they continue in exam hell. I can make dead good chocolate cookies, you know.

Dear lord

2006-05-16T10:00:00.000Z

Stress/revision makes me do silly things. Like write a long blog on BURNS. Sorry.

Rational fears

2006-05-14T21:18:00.000Z

I have just about had my fill with hot things. I never used to like them at the best of times but this year they have just been plaguing me much like a bubonic.

I have acquired at least two new scars this 2006 and, it seems, am now cultivating a third. And ALL are hot thing related.

My first mishap with a hot thing this year began in January when I was dying of bird flu (okay just flu but I did have a chest infection as well) and turned to the hot things to give me comfort. That meaning I tried to make a hot water bottle and in my unsteadiness caused by flu I poured the boiling water not into the bottle like the instructions tell me but ALL OVER MY HAND. Which lead to me lying in bed at the brink of death with the added discomfort of having my hand dunked into a pan of cold water. Luckily positive thinking and the cold water deterred any blisters and I remained scar-free.

But this was only until hot water bottle mishap #2. I allowed a pissed friend of mine to sleep on my sofa after a night of heavy drinking. I can no longer remember which particular night but it was probably a fun one. I talked to him for a bit before retiring to my bed whilst balancing a hot water bottle on my lap. I sensed it was rather warm but by no means caused me such discomfort as to think it would burn. Well I was wrong and the next morning I had a proper blister on my thigh. It remained intact a matter of hours until I wandered up to the Gair Rhydd office and promptly squished on the desk. And so created scar #1 of the year so far. The blister itself looked something like this.

I'll think you'll agree: yuck. That was pre-squishing, obviously.

Next up was when the oven took a disliking to my arm and one of the metal trays promptly jumped out and bit it. Well, really I was clumsy and knocked it but still it was awfully unfair. Anyway -> blister -> I squished it -> I picked it -> scar #2

And now 14th May, not even a half way through the year of 2006, and it's happened AGAIN. This time the culprit was a chicken korma curry. Not just any chicken korma curry but a Tesco Finest curry that was reduced in the branch on Salisbury Road. Yeah, the microwave kind. I really should know better but it was the steam that got me. And now, nearly 4 hours later, it still hurts. The skin has come a bit loose and I am just waiting for it to fill with fluid. I've had my hand in a glass of water since then but I'm trying to revise and using a pen with a hand that is stuck in water ain't easy. Neither's typing for that matter. But then complaining is infinitely more fun than revising.

So, much as my housemates may have despaired at my consistent fear of heat-related kitchen items, I don't think it's going away soon. Since the ignition whatsit on the stove went I have had to learn to light it with a match. That took a while. I'm better now but how long till the flames get a bit over-zealous and engulf my hand? Only a matter of time, I reckon.

Anyway, I think I was revising or something.

A rather satisfying day

2006-05-07T13:38:00.000Z

I promised myself I wasn't going to bore people with yet more pictures of prairie dogs. Seeing as just because I think they're a bit brilliant it doesn't mean everyone else does.

But then I went to Bristol Zoo and came face to face with them in REAL LIFE. Oh what a moment it was.

Again, clicky-clicky to make bigger.

Also amongst our fun was the big hippo who looked like he was trying to throw up and a family of gorillas, including the young 'un as you can see who was gripped to his mum's back. Unfortunately the prairie dogs refused to cuddle for the camera.

Apologies for now making this blog look like a family photo album. But it feels a moment worth sharing. I should really begin doing proper grown-up blogging soon.

In the vein of political blogs and so forth I can have a bit of a whine about corporate sponsorship. When my baguette shop boss agreed to take part in the filming of a sketch about sandwiches for GMTV (in which myself and Grace are extras). What he probably didn't bank on was that they were being sponsored by Kingsmill and for the sakes of the film had to swap his lovely fresh baguettes for Kingsmill white sliced loaf. Which is just plain unrealistic and rather conceited on Kingsmill's part. They scattered the loaves all over the shop so that no matter what angle they were filming there was the brand in full view. As if Pat would EVER use that bread to make his sandwiches on. Tsk, what a world.

I do.

2006-04-30T16:24:00.000Z

I think I may actually want to marry Charlie Brooker.

So...students.

2006-04-30T11:50:00.000Z

I was honestly doing my solid best to not leap headfirst into the frequently touted bandwagon of ‘I hate all students me’. Not wishing to insult any of my friends by saying that but given I know quite a few students and the ones that I actually dislike are in the minority I think it’s a fair comment. This is in spite of working at That Student Pub and coming face to face with overbloated, ‘Snakey-B’ drinking, badly-coiffed rugby players and their high heel toppling followers on a regular basis. My mind was cranked wide open.

This is until last night. Being the night after the media awards I was still hungover by 11pm, as is frequent the older I get, and I decided to go to bed. I closed my window fully expecting the Saturday night party-goers to be a ‘bit noisy’. I was first woken at about 2.30am by a gang of rowdy idiots conducting their own mini festival outside my window. That passed and I quickly returned to my slumber.

THEN it went further wrong. A bit of scene-setting: I have the downstairs front bedroom. In front of our house is some garden putting us about five yards from the street. Outside my window is a very sturdily bolted letting agent sign. I know it’s sturdy because for some time it made noises outside my window and I tried to pull it off. But I failed because it’s very sturdy. At 3.45am some clever sod decided to go into our garden and dangle himself from the sign in an attempt to pull it off. As we do not have double-glazing this naturally scared the living daylights out of me as I woke with a jolt at what sounded like someone trying to push my window pane through (which actually wouldn’t take that much pushing, I would wager).

He continued to yank at it whilst yelling something in protestful merriment to his friend. I laid in bed still recovering from the shock of being woken and scared stiff that he may actually break the window. When I had enough of the presence of mind to put on my glasses and look out the window he was making his way out of the garden in defeat. One of the few things that Charltons letting agent can do is put up sturdy signs.

I imagine the sheer audacity of this cocky shitbag is not lost on anyone. I mean, What The Fuck? Who on this earth does he think he is? Scenerio 1) I am one of the aforementioned high heel toppling rugby followers and currently have a 6’6” boyfriend built like a brick shithouse sleeping away in my bed. I can’t imagine that lad would be seeing his next birthday with both legs left.

Had I had a spare cricket bat to hand I would have gone out there full of rage and literally beaten that rotten little cock-end to pieces. Regardless of the fact I was wearing pyjama bottoms with dancing women on them. I can actually picture the entire bloody experience now but it’s not for me to repeat here.

So to conclude, I have packed my bags and am waiting at the bandwagon stop with my thumb stuck out. Hope there’s a spare seat.

The esteemed collegues

2006-04-29T20:17:00.000Z

We got to pretend we're posh for an evening. Click it to make it bigger.

2006-04-24T19:47:00.001Z

It's been a funny few days. Since Thursday I managed to meet the super brilliant Jessica Stevenson in the mighty posh Dorchester hotel in London and not turn into a dribbling mess. The, also rather good, Martin Freeman was there too. Professional business of course. Then today I had an interview for that postgrad course I'd applied to and was told at the end that I had a place. That be the one that's apparently dead good and prestigious and whatnot. So they say, anyway. So for the next five minutes all is well in Catherine Land .....................................................................................................................
...........................................................................................................................
.........................................now I have those two deadlines to get working on. Bugger.

So what happens if you're just normal?

2006-04-03T10:27:00.000Z

Included in my 'you have an interview' letter for the postgrad was a leaflet about how if you're from an ethnic minority people will be falling over themselves to give you free money. These aren't unusual. The Pearson whatsidoodah from the FT also gives lots of money and work experience to people who are black or something. Well done for them, that must be very nice. I just wish someone was so keen to give me free money. My original ideas of exploiting my girlness by some form of girl-only bursary seems to have fallen flat given my lack of enthusiasm for academia and research. Well boo them.

The main thing that has prompted this train of thought is today's arrival of all this expensive computer stuff in our hallway.

Boy Housemate decided this year that he might be dyslexic and took himself off to the university to find out. Today, a mere one term from his graduation, all this stuff turned up to help him in his plight. Just about every computer gadget you could wish for. Computer, scanner, printer, flat screen monitor, fancy speakers, PDA (complete with portable keyboard), portable electronic dictionary, dictaphone, mic, Microsoft Office, brainstorming software, a stand to hold his bloody book up for him, batteries, spare print cartridges and many more. Not bad for having a bit of a dicky brain.

Now Boy Housemate is one of the most techie whizz types I know. He built his computer and built a fair bit of mine as well. He asked the bloke who brought it round not to bother setting it up as he'd rather do it himself. Then, after he left, started dancing around singing 'eBay! eBay!'. All but the PDA is going to go because he simply doesn't need them.

Fair enough, he has dyslexia. A bit of help is nice. But I can't help but feel massively hard done by for being a white girl whose brain works just fine. I'm shit with numbers, would that help? I'm also a speccy, how about free laser eye surgery as I'm sure it holds me back in some way or another? What if I go to the shops in my glasses at night and some clever sod nicks them then uses my disadvantage to steal everything else I have on my person? Maybe I'll shout 'but I have dyslexia!' and then, realising their mistake, they'll go and pick on a passing athsmatic instead.

The same goes for EMA, student loans, tuition fees, benefits and so forth. It's all well and good if you're at a disadvantage to start with. But I suppose seeing as I wasn't I'll just have to forge my own one and watch everybody else get the hand outs. I am going to wind up with a mountain of debt too, you know. And I do have things wrong with me, just the government hasn't decided to give out free stuff for them yet.

Mummy, why wasn't I born black? With one leg? With a spazzy brain? Why do you have any money?

2006-03-24T01:38:00.000Z

Blankets are brilliant.

Dum Dum de Dum

2006-03-24T01:26:00.000Z

It's 1.30am. My essay is due in 10.5 hours. I have a lecture 9am-11am. I'm 631 words in. Why do I do this to myself?

2006-03-17T20:47:00.000Z

The World According to Stephen Gee aka My Dad

As far as daughters go, when it comes to keeping touch with the people who made me by having sex with each other, I'm not really best at it. So, in case they were suffering from some form of eldest child withdrawal symptoms, I sent them the address to here. Dad's initial response to my 'blog' thus follows.

Hi,
I'm sorry to be such a boring pedantic old git, BUT - prairie dogs are gophers and serious pests and won't go down well in the USA where you future may rest. Your blog appears to be written in modern speak which I don't understand - isn't Hunter S Thompson dead. You don't insult enough people, ethnic minorities, religions, politicians and, of course, that good old standby - the weak and helpless. This is a dog eat dog world and I think your blog should reflect that.
You could have a regular weekly photo spot like Ugly Starving Immigrant of the Week or something.
Got to work now, hope this helps,
Dad.

This argument is certainly flawed given that Hunter Thompson's style of writing was once modern back in the days of the 50s it certainly isn't modern anymore as a new modern has taken its place. I am, however, not going to complain too much about being compared to Mr Gonzo Journalist himself. His last suggestion may make the average reader a bit concerned about my upbringing (I didn't get this cynical by accident, you know).

Feeling a bit pertubed that he hadn't fallen in wonder at my impressive celebrity hobnobbing, I replied in such a style to received the following (abridged) response

Darling,
... Anyway the celebs, to really impress me it would have to be the late great Jimi Hendrix, that superlative footballer Jimmy Greaves or even that fine actor Timothy Spall but in their absence Spike Lee and Sarah Jessica Big Nose will have to do, and in such small intimate groupings to - very good. Now, of course, is the time to network, network, network - press that flesh and be memorable! Once again, anytime I can advise you from my bottomless pit of knowledge just let me know.
Dad.

Despite what he may claim his knowledge pit is not bottomless. He is, however, good at pulling silly faces on Christmas Day.

Now, if he complains do I be a dutiful daughter and take it down?

I would include my mother's thoughts but she has yet to respond.

2006-03-15T21:07:00.000Z

Tales of London

I went to London yesterday, you know that place that's dead old and big. After many years of not going anywhere near our nation's capital I have now been there lots in a very short space of time. I think before the dawning of my 22nd birthday the last time I went down that way was when I was in my early teens and visited the remainders of the Sikh family who used to live next door but had to run away because Daddy Singh was forcing Eldest Daughter Singh to marry some strange Other Singh and didn't care to ask his wife's opinion on the matter. After Grandma Singh pushed her pregnant daughter-in-law down the stairs as a way of saying 'stop interfering' we decided to help them run away to London. But that's another story.

So after my fourth visit I'm now pretty damn clued up on that underground rail service they have, I'm aware that you should not go anywhere without an A-Z and there's lots of lovely looking old pubs that are dark. Unfortunately, whenever I tend to be in London it's under circumstances that insist I go alone so I haven't patroned many of these pubs. This is possibly a good thing as the pub I went in yesterday turned out to be one that Chantelle from Big Brother goes to and I had to wash my hands next to the dreadful plastic colour-bomb. I probably should have pushed her off her high heels but I was very tired having gotten up at 4.30am.

My purpose for heading to old London Town was for Quench Business; press conferences with famous movie types. Firstly was Sarah Jessica Parker in promotion of her new film Failure to Launch which, unsurprisingly, is utter bollocks. It took place in Claridges hotel which, given my humble upbringing, is the poshest hotel I've ever set foot in. There were men in top hats opening doors and the lift had a sofa in it. The conference was of a modest size, no more than 20 journalists in attendance. The lady herself seemed sweet and well intentioned though woefully misguided in her belief that she's not typecast as Carrie Bradshaw.

But this wasn't the most exciting bit, oh no. Alongside promotion for Failure to Launch was promotion for The Inside Man, Spike Lee's new film. And he was there. I have now interacted with Spike Lee in fairly close proximity which, let's face it, is bloody brilliant. Even if he was a bit intimidating. It took place around a large round table with 14 other journalists and felt fairly intimate. Like most seasoned professionals he doesn't take any shit from anyone and woe betide any who attempt to criticise as one brave/stupid lass did when she commented that Jodie Foster wasn't very good (which, incidentally, is wrong). I'm surprised she wasn't hoisted out of there by a large surly bodyguard. Any jokes he made were met by laughter from everyone, whether they were funny or not. I had three specific questions in mind and stupidly asked the one which drew the shortest answer from him though I was impressed by my lack of stuttering or use of the word 'like' when I asked it. This will probably be found to be completely false when I listen back to the tape from the dictaphone. With hindsight I should have just fired another one at him but then that's the benefit of hindsight. Either way it's nice that my year-long efforts with PR companies are finally starting to pay off.

As he left the hotel a bunch of people surrounded him asking for autographs and photos to which he humbly agreed whilst looking very awkward. It was during this moment that I not-so-sneakily snapped this photo.

Look how he wears funny glasses. I'd look silly in glasses like that.

2006-03-15T01:24:00.000Z

YEA!

2006-03-09T00:40:00.000Z

News flash: the Internet is a funny old place.
But you all knew that already.

The times when one has work to be getting on with is probably when the 'web' gets its hardest hammering. Such is tonight when, rather than cracking on with that presentation, Boy Housemate guides me towards sites themed around rating stuff. Hence the typing in of 'rate my' into google and finding a whole wealth of sites packed to the brim with people wishing to be judged by anonymous strangers.

Admittedly the bulk of it is porn but there are some such classics as Rate My Gas Mask where people... rate each others' gas masks. Sometimes there are willies included. Sometimes not.

Other fun sites include Rate My Poo which is not one for the faint-hearted. Rate My Finger, which is essentially people making awfully rude gestures at a camera, Rate My Tattoo, and Rate My Mullet (tagline 'Beauty is only mullet deep').

If, like me, you think cats are just plain brilliant then Rate My Kitten is there for your perusal. There's also some about dogs but I didn't look there.

Should you be feeling very vulgar you can also spend time rating willies, boobies, implants and camel toes. Apparently the camel toe website has been banned from exposing naked toes but they're fighting to have such censorship lifted. And good luck to them. Unsheath those toes.

Personally I like the cats and the gasmasks. Though, I couldn't find a site for cats wearing gasmasks. But that's probably a good thing.

As I like leaving a blog post with a nice picture take a gander at these cracking mullets.

This fella here doesn't have that impressive a mullet but I like him for the frighteningly simple expression on his face. I'm resisting the urge to point and yell 'paedophile!'.

2006-03-01T18:14:00.000Z

Apparently prairie dogs are more interesting than biscuit cities. Well haven't I been told.

I felt a bit let down by Neighbours today. It wasn't intentional on their part, like they'd ever do such a thing. But watching Janae and Boyd on the beach just looked so warm. Apparently the weather here is only going to get colder and I'M SO BORED OF BEING COLD. Damn Australian people with their beaches and their vests and their ridiculous names. Ever notice that we don't have people called Sky, Elle, Janae or Bree here? It's not hot enough for names like that. That's why. My name is definitely a cold name. Why else did Henry VIII have three of them? All in cold cold Britain. Even Catherine of Aragon got taken from Spain. She'd never have suited there, weather's too nice and dry. One day, my friends, one day I shall make a change in history. No more Cold Climate Catherine.

2006-02-27T00:56:00.000Z

I'm not sure what I feel but I think it's hunger.

Check out the ultimate in fun time-wasting. Some people in Selfridges built a biscuit city.

Have a looky at A Nice Cup of Tea and a Sit Down's website here for their version of the event. Who needs a job when you can build things out of biscuits? Though the thought of them all going to waste at the end is enough to give me nightmares.

On another note our music channels have been playing Michael Jackson videos ALL WEEKEND. I've gotten nothing done. Damn him and his nifty feet. Except the video with Lisa Marie Presley where they're both naked. That's just uncalled for.

See I told you no more prairie dogs.

2006-02-20T16:20:00.000Z

Apart from this one. How many animals cuddle? I mean, really.

2006-02-18T12:13:00.000Z

BRILLIANT

Last one I promise

2006-02-16T01:11:00.000Z

Alas, my love affair with the prairie dog still has yet to pass. They are clearly the fabulousest mammals ever. Possibly even better than The Bestest Cat in the world who ordinarily goes by the name of Juno. Juno is a girl's name but he is a boy cat and shows off his masculinity by not giving a stuff about being lumbered with a girly name and sleeping all day instead. And why should he care? Not everyone gets to be named after a Greek godess made famous by a Shakespeare play. But don't tell him his brilliantness is under threat by something called a 'dog'.

I currently have the picture of the prairie dog below, now named Bert, as my display picture on MSN and get to look at his impressive stature every time I have a conversation. Tis much better than looking at my uninspiring head, to be sure. He's clearly one of those 'thinking' prairie dogs. Though he takes his task of 'watching' very seriously he wishes he could be in some darkened cafe singing alongside a lone guitar to then go home to the love of a good woman (not me, that would be weird).

A quick search on wikipedia tells me that they are being increasingly kept as pets in the USA and Europe, which has now further developed by determination to be bought one for my half-birthday (23rd Feb). Even though I am allergic to most furry creatures, I don't care. I only wish I was allergic to children, seems ironic somewhat.

Fortunately, they are herbivores so I won't have to give them any foul-smelling dog food and they are sociable so won't mind having to deal with the ongoing pressure of guarding my room against unwanted intruders. What's more these fellas actually sit. On their arses. Regardez the picture below. Then look at the other one because he really is a handsome devil and should be told so.

2006-02-12T19:55:00.000Z

It's intriguing how, given this is a blog that doesn't really exist, somehow it has been viewed 113 times, including by people from both San Francisco and Los Angeles (or somewhere near there). Judging by the Clustrmap dots it has been visited at least 14 times by people from the US. I feel the need to apologise to them for having to come across such a disappointing blog.

On another note, it is my half-birthday on the 23rd of February and I want someone to buy me one of these:

It's a prairie dog and think it would look rather good standing guard of my room. They look infinitely more interesting than meer cats. It's these little fellas who are stars of the 'otter porn' stuck up on the Gair Rhydd office walls.

2005-11-12T01:40:00.000Z

Welcome to the least interesting blog. It's only here because I thought I'd bag my name before it went elsewhere. I've nabbed the one at livejournal too. Just in case.