There's nothing I like more that giving the brain a workout. Puzzles, suduko and if on the box, I like to pit my know hows against teams from Universitys around the country....
The latest series for the Professionals are back - not a long series but enough to pique my tastebuds once more.
Tonight it was the Ministry of Justice verses the Comedians who got dreadfully spanked on the bottom of knowledge by the civil service. And whilst I pride myself on being able to answer even 5% of the questions, tonight I got 2. Which was only slightly less than the comedians but re-emphasised the feeling that the blob is slowly sucking away my intelligence. But then again, it could have always have been me...
Am I the only one who thought that that the teams did actually sat one above the each other?
Sim - Happy fathers day dad - what could be the best gift you could wish for?
Father - A grandchild!
Sim - Nuh Narrrhh! Try again.
Father - For someone other than a pip squeak with pipes* to win Britains Got Talent
It's only been on a for a single solitary week, but this reality tv, hailing back to ye olde 80's variety telly, has been uber addictive. I'm loving it as much as Big Brother 8 (although admittedly I have been in mourning since Lesley left). However, the judges inability to see past tiny feet and tiny people and go for the cliche did get on the proverbial t*ts. So tonight, I have been laughing my socks off whilst watching the live final and thinking of my fathers wish. And okay - so it only took several dozen (rather expensive) phone calls to clinche it - but I think I did. And I did it for him. My dad.
That and my sanity as Bessie made my teeth ache...
Roll on the American series!
* I should mentioned that if a grand-rugrat decides to go for next years show, my father reserves the right to support aforementioned rugrat to the end. And slap any one who insults the rugrat with a cold wet haddock.
Double standards? Never...!!?!
It's no (big) secret that I am a television addict - you name it. That's me, watching Forensic Files, House, NCIS, Doctor Who and underlying it all, is my addiction to reality tv. Both Banana and Pat have admitted to the latter as much, which means I am not alone, fighting my way through the quagmire.
But you know when things have got really bad, when they invade your dreams. Last night, Richard was in my dream, dressed in a sailors outfit whilst he and the others were being tested by Donald Trump. The latter happened to be a US Marine, who taught them how to cook and then expected them to prove themselves in combat and save a man's life. Totally bizarre as some of the BB housemates looked extraordinarily hideous in their get-ups, whilst Nikki had a tantrum and Lea brimmed out of her uniform.
Apparently it's bad when aspects of non-reality infect your sleep. When I taught English in Japan, I was so worried about my lesson structure and abilities, that I started deconstructing the day in my dreams, correcting my spelling, grammar and writing my own homework on the board. Most disconcerting as in my dreams, my students had better English than I.
I'm somewhat thankful that BB ends in a week - maybe my dreams will get back to normal. But then I will have the added problem that there will be, in no doubt, a new reality show around the corner.
Now if only Musicality came back, I might even join in.
It's had been a busy day, with conference stuff that I have been roped into (how?), delegates and new father of the baby coming into the office to get some peace work done. When finally, we managed to kick our shoes off and sit on the sofa for our Doctor Who fest, including finale.
So it was only a minor set back when we doubled checked and found that TiVo, the reliable, had recorded all of the episodes bar one - the impossible planet. Gah! There would be another 2 day wait before I see the clash of Darleks -v- Cybermen.
grrrrrrr!
[rant] So Girlpants and I have started to watch a few different series on the box, just to make a difference around the CSI, CSI Miami, CSI NY, Forensic Files and New Yankee Workshop that we have spilling out of our heads and onto the floor.
So we had a look and stared to watch
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Bones - still going....thank God!
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Why, why, why? What is wrong with these people in the big seats!!? Have we started so now we can't finish? Can they not see that when something is critically acclaimed and has a cult following, then it's a good thing. Maybe even something to resurrect, like:
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Futurama - cancelled but rumoured to be returning 2008
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Doctor Who - cancelled after the Americans tried to work it, now back!
It really drives me mad that you start to get onto a good thing and then it dies an early premature death. Fox cancelled Family Guy AND Futurama but kept The Simpson thing limping into the everleasting and deary sunset. Where's the next season of Black Books? The long promised Red Dwarf the movie? Or Futurama the movie?? And did you really have to quit on Green Wing? The least they could do is let people know when they cancel series instead of them sliding by the wayside and hoping no-one will notice.
Gah! It's enough to make your teeth ache.
Thank God for South Park, thats all I can say..!!
[/rant]
So after having el parentos over for dinner last night, I finally switched on old reliable and found an old friend on line...
C!
Now Mister C is an old friend of mine from the ill gotten uni days in London. I hear from him occasionally as he's been studying and has his own life to be getting on with. However, he was back on-line last night with a vengeance, a new job and another woman in a msg window.
Atta boy!
However he did ask something that others have been asking me for some time, however in a most eloquent fashion...
Callum says:
How's you & Girlpants?
Sim Haskell-Dowland says:
He’s fine - still trying to get him into man knickers
Callum says:
I never did (dare to) ask why you call him Girlpants!
Sim Haskell-Dowland says:
He always used to wear mens briefs which looked more like my knickers than a blokes. He's now in boxers!
Callum says:
boxers/trunks are the way forward, y-fronts are just conceptually-crusty, no guys wear briefs!
Callum says:
So long as he's not wearing thongs...
Callum says:
Or yours...
Sim Haskell-Dowland says:
Erm...No to that last one. And I’ve been telling him for years!
Callum says:
Maybe he's gay, and just married you as cover!
Far be it for me to debate my husbands sexuality on a blog.... But no C, there's no chance of that last one being even a smidgen true. However I did have to try and explain to mother in law and Girlpants as to why I was folded over in laughter for half an hour!
So why is he called Girlpants. Well, it stems back to his dress sense when we were first going out. This included yeti jackets, jeans that stopped at his knees, jumpers that left fashion in the 1970's and knickers.
But it didn't just stop there...
I know girls - who could resist such a man...?
But it wasn't until, after much nagging and changing of the underwear, that the nickname prevailed. Sitting in bed, drinking tea on a Saturday morning, a cartoon came on the box.
Wayne and Lucien. Where the two played and bickered. Wayne being naughty and adventurous - Lucien wanting to sniff flowers and doing other girlie things. And therefore being labelled Girlpants.
It just seemed apt to me.
Now those days of briefs have gone with their 1970's paisley patterns. And now, we have Calvin's in their place.
But if he thinks that the nickname will disappear in the wilderness of time, then he's sadly mistaken...
Earlier this week, husband of talkative sister got the news that one of his former employees passed away at the age of 31. This was unexpected news which hit the boys pretty hard, especially given the guys age. So to show their respect, Alan was nominated to represent the company at the funeral.
Dressed in sombre attire, he drove down to the crematorium and politely introduced himself to other mourners in the congregation. And once sat down in the chapel, he sang hymns and celebrated the life on the sadly deceased.
Whose name was Alice.
It was at this point that he realised that he was at the wrong funeral. He knew it but couldn't leave. The family didn't know it but were pleased that this well dressed young man was there to say goodbye to their loved one. Made them feel special and safe.
Until he bade them farewell outside of the chapel...then strode straight back into the chapel again when the second entourage approached.
And you thought this could only happen in Six Feet Under.
My bleeding eyes.. and Girlpants bleeding ears!
We've just spent the last hour watching a programme that others have been talking about for the past couple of days. First aired on the fourth channel of ye olde box, Extraordinary Breastfeeding was a factual and sympathetic examination into four different women who were breastfeeding their children.
There is Veronika who is still breastfeeding her 7ry old, while her eldest has asked if she can be breastfed from "milky-yoo" and "milky-yuu" as a present for her tenth birthday. When her younger child was born, her then 65yr old mother helped with the breastfeeding duties until Veronika was used to tandem feeding, whilst hubby felt left out and joined in to be more involved. There is Dolores and her husband who are about to adopt a little girl from China, whom she then tries to breastfeed whilst nursing her 5yr old son. There was also Kirsty works for an breastfeeding organisation - she taught her 2yr daughter to call her breasts "bitty" and is an ardent supporter of a womans right to nurse in public by organising protests for a womens right to breastfeed in public by organising a "nurse in" at the local shopping centre after feeding her child at the checkout counter in Tesco's. And finally, there's 38yr old Sophie, who was tandem-feeding her two-year-old twins on demand whilst her marriage is effectively on hold, her husband misses spending time with her and with her two older children, feel to a certain extent left out of her life.
As a 30yr old married women with no children, I have no problem with women breastfeeding in public. Sisters and friends have nursed their children in front of me with no embarrassment, and no-one in my family feels discomfort from seeing mothers nurse their children. But I did feel discomfort watching as a woman tried to nurse a child that wasn't born from her womb who clearly wasn't interested in mummy milk, despite repeated efforts to try and make her nurse. Girlpants clearly winced when the grandmother admitted breastfeeding her grandchildren and admittedly, we were both disturbed by seeing a 7yr old stretch out on the sofa to be breastfeed, only to then place two apples down her shirt, look at herself in the mirror and announce that she was going to breastfeed herself when her own breasts had grown. And I did have a problem watching a woman nurse her child whilst wheeling a trolley around Tesco's, whilst checking off her shopping list in the fresh meat aisle.
Observers also gave their opinions at the nurse-in - one man said breastfeeding encourages "paedo-fiddlers", he's mistaken. Paedo-fiddlers don't exist and paedophiles are not at all interested in boobs. I can understand a womens wish to nurse their child when and where they can, as breast milk is a good source or nutrients, enzymes and to a point, antibodies against diseases. But as House said, there is a point to when "yummy mummy milk" can only do so much, which is why a child needs more supplements and inoculations. WHO recommends breastfeeding up and beyond 2yrs of age, but they are concerned with the bigger world picture where most countries can not get the supplements and nutrients to their child, and in some cases, can't even get enough food. The West is different with it's wealth - maybe this is why the West views breastfeeding the way it does. And whilst I don't think that a woman should be forced to stop feeding their child, but there has to be a point when the child grows up.
And 7 took the biscuit.
Now please excuse me whilst I go hug my boobs.
I've just watched Celebrity Big Brother and I have never cringed at live tv before.
Until tonight.
And now the world sees a new version of our parlimentary elected bodies...and the uncomfortable thing is I think that he's purred like that before.... Hand me the screwdrivers to gouge out my eyes whilst sandpapering any part of my body that needs solace from the pain.
I only turned over for a laugh but both Girlpants and I are horribly horribly addicted already. Especially seeing the HUGE welcome Michael got.
I sense a TiVo season pass coming up. Admittedly we are very very sad.
There are various websites that I am addicted to - Zoe's observations on life, Postsecret which had an interesting entry today:
Pandacam is almost as good as the South African Parks webcam of a watering hole. However I caught sight of the panda baby today, and there's just no beating that!
Children In Need tonight..Madonna sang, money was raised...
And then there was The Doctor
Maybe he'll bring me a shed.
Each Saturday, Girlpants and I will lie in for a little, then he will watch Spongbob while I shower. I’ll then make a late breakfast, he showers then we eat together, watching Saturday Morning Kitchen.
This morning, he decided to do a Austin Powers due to one of the presenters. Not stripping down to his union jack y-fronts and performing a dance to Burt Val Bacharach - that’s my Monday joy! No - this morning Manju Malhi was presenting a dish just as he came downstairs.
So for a full 90 minutes, all I could hear was "moooooleymoelymoleymoelymoleymoelymoleymoelymoleymoooooleymoelymoleymoelymoleymoelymoleymoelymoley"
Lurvely...
Catching up with tivo this evening and my eagerly awaited social commentary on Simon Mullane who took money for but couldn’t be arsed to do DNA paternity tests. I did feel for the dads who were desperately trying to find out the truth, as a tattoed man with "love" and "hate" on each hand rang his child up to quietly say, yes I’m your dad and lets go out for a drink to celebrate...
Yet I couldn’t help feeling at that moment it all came down to the one subliminal message - lets get drunk to celebrate that your mother’s not the whore I suspected her to be.
Nice.
This weekend saw the launch of Big Brother 6. Only this year, I have vowed not to become a victim of the show...
And then I caught myself checking the website for news...
Bollocks!
We have just come back from the sweat box known as my parents abode. My father claims that he puts up the heating for mother, as she is genetically used to hotter climates, whilst he walks around in old thin jumpers, complaining of the cold...
For mum huh?!??
So now both Girlpants and I are feeling weak, tired, sticky and wet due to the fact that it’s belting it down outside. There’s also a small headache starting behind my right eyeball. The best thing for that? We’ve opened a bottle of wine and are currently watching Mythbusters, who are running experiments into Brown Noise, so my headache is getting worse and there could be a queue for the loo.
It could be time to break out the gin...
So I went to the doctors yesterday - Herrn Doktor D’Hart was a nice funny guy who explained my health to me in terms that I might have even used on my Japanese students years before. Apparently my nerve endings are out of synch with my legs and eyeballs, and my brains does not know who to believe - hence I’ve been collapsing all over the place...
Should be in showbusiness, breaking legs all over the place.
So now, he’s come down with the virus that I had - without the balance problem though. He’s been groaning on the sofa all day, drapped in his jimjams, Noel Edmonds jumper and dressing gown. He says it was inevitable that he caught it - personally if he had let me sleep in the spare room as suggested, then he might have survived.
So here we sit on the sofa, like we’re on holiday in Bournemouth, blanket draped over our knees as we watch two series of Gimme Gimme Gimme.
I can relate to that...
One of Pauls favourties, although am a Futurama gal myself - but, if, like Girlpants, you try to see what Bart writes on the chalk board each episode...
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