Who do you think you are Hulk Hogan?

Last night I had a very weird dram about Hulk Hogan.
It was even more bizarre because the more I think about it the more I realise that the dream was heavily influenced by last nights Who do you think you are? with Jerry Springer.

I was very moved by his discovery of the fate of his maternal Grandmother in a Nazi extermination camp. I was shocked to see how profoundly the fate of someone who died sixty odd years ago could affect the life of someone alive today.

I was stunned to see the calm, cool and collected jerry Springer break down in tears at the revelation of his grandmother’s fate.

Quite why my brain would choose to combine such a profound experience with the dysfunctional Hogan family, I am not sure. Perhaps it was the only way my MTV ravaged psyche could relate to such an historical occurrence - in terms of today’s celebrity obsessed pop culture. What does that say about my values and those of society today?

Swimming the Channel part 2

I am now one sixth of the way through my channel swimming challenge. I am somewhat behind schedule but I don’t really care as I am reaping a multitude of benefits from my now frequent visits to the local swimming pool.

1. I have lost a kilo (I don’t use pounds and stones any more as they are too depressing)
2. My arms are firming up nicely and an now somewhat less bingo wingy
3. My arse is shrinking and I can now fit into the nice M&S knickers I accidentally purchased a size too small.
4. I’m feeling a bit fitter.
5. I have been enjoying the sight of numerous fit young men who fill out their speedos very nicely indeed.

I like swimming.

PS: I can now do 50% more lengths in a session than I could a month ago. Yay me !

When TV makes you cry

If you were watching Hollyoakes a few moths ago you would have seen the sad, sad funeral of poor dead Max Cunningham. Max had only been married to the vacuous Stephanie Della Dean for a matter of hours before being run over and killed by Nial the psychotic hairdresser.

Surprisingly (for we are talking about Hollyoakes) the funeral was extremely touching. In fact it was so touching that I cried. I was fine right up until the part where Stephanie Della Cunningham (nee Dean) sang an extremely moving acapella version of the Sugababes 'About you now'. Who ever would have thought that the Sugababes would write a pop song appropriate for a funeral.

I’ve never been to a real funeral – thankfully no one close to me has ever died.
If had I don’t think I would have cried, just like I don’t cry at weddings, which I find a bit boring and very embarrassing. Fictional weddings however, I sob my eyes out at. Did you see the last episode of The Vicar of Dibley? I cried with joy at that wedding. Conversely I sobbed my eyes out with fictional grief at the fictional funeral of the fictional character Max Cunningham, who I didn’t even like that much because he was quite annoying and a bit of a prat.

Never buy the cheapest tent you can find

A cheap tent, while easy on the bank balance is not the most ideal lodgings during your typical British summer.

A cheap tent will be cold during the night due to its single layer of shower proof fabric. A more expensive tent will have 2 layers of fabric which will create a double glazing effect keeping the warmth in the tent and the cold outside the tent. A cheap tent will be cold at night.

On an cheap tent that single layer of shower proof fabric will do exactly what it says on the tin - a short light shower of rain will roll right off it but a long heavy down poor will soak right through and cause uncomfortable drips to fall on your head, neck and back making you cold wet and uncomfortable.

A cheap tent will be small. Small tents have small doors. Small doors can be tricky to get in and out of, especially and 4.30am when you are still a bit drunk and desperate to got to the loo.

Never buy the cheapest tent.

Did I tell you that Nemisis has moved out ?

She is sharing a one bedroom flat in East London with her best friends brother. She has the bedroom, he has the living room. He winds her up by not putting the toilet seat back down and sending her text messages when they run out of bread or milk instead of just going to the shop and buying some more. She told our mother that she won’t be renewing the lease in six months time.

I have never been to Nemesis’ flat and I don’t know the address. I do not have her phone number (neither land line nor mobile). I only have her email address because I noticed it on a message our mother sent to the both of us. I don’t remember how we became ‘friends’ on facebook. I think she was friends with my cousin and I added her because I had loaded a family tree application. She takes months to respond to messages anyway even though I know she spends hours on there each day (she hasn’t activated her privacy settings and everything she does I get notified about). She doesn’t reply to emails either, so I don’t bother sending them anymore.

Mum only has her address because when she turned up at our house to collect her birthday present mum wouldn’t let her leave until she wrote it down for her.

3 weeks later she decided to pay her a visit. She didn’t call to say she was coming round she just decided to turn up one day – because she knew that arranging a time to go round would be impossible. So she turned up and found no one home, called her mobile and made her come back from where ever she was so that she could see where her youngest daughter was living.

that old people smell

My grandparents stayed at our house last night. Their sheltered flat is being fumigated for bedbugs.

Alzheimer Granny got very excited when we got out my baby album. She loves children. She’ll sit in the park and watch them for hours. When she was done cooing over my former cuteness (for I was a little cherub) she launched into her second favourite topic ‘Why aren’t you married yet?’. Fortunately she doesn’t speak any English and I don’t speak any Amharic and my mother has finally learnt that when this litany begins it’s time for her to stop translating.

Intrigued by some rather emphatic and emotive gesturing I got mum to translate the main points. “I’m going to go to Ethiopia and bring you back a husband…I’m going to find you a husband with a car!...The husband I bring you will fly in an aeroplane, he will fly the aeroplane….” And so on and so forth. It was rather sweet and made a change for her usual ‘You’re getting old. Why aren’t you married? You should find a husband so I can look after your babies….’

When she got tired of describing my future spouse she decided she wanted to go home. She paid no heed to my mother repeatedly telling her that her house was full of poison to kill the bed bugs. She got up, hobbled slowly to the front door and tried to escape. ‘The door is still locked!’ she told my mother. ‘I can’t stay here, you didn’t bring my pyjamas !’.

She hobbled back to the sofa and sat down, calmed and distracted by the sparkly costumes in the Blades of Glory DVD I’d put on.

Earth Girl swims the channel -sort of

In an aim to get the most out of my hidiously expensive gym membership I have decided to swim the equivalent of the English channel. That's 33km at my own pace (really slow) and in my own time - deadline November the 30th.

I'll let you know how it goes.

sad bastards

There was a very long que at Euston Station this morning. Aproaching it form the side it looked like a que for the escalators down to the tube platforms. But its wasn't. It was the que for the O2 shop next to the escalators. They were queing to buy iphones. The sad, sad, bastards.

You Pervs part 943

I’ve been keeping a casual eye on my web stats lately and have noticed several new trends. Those of you into 'alternative' sexual practices are still coming to my blog via searches for ‘F***ing Tube’ and ‘German B*ndage’.
Lots of backpackers and tourists are arriving via searches for ‘things to do in Sydney’ and ‘Girls guide to backpacking’. And within the last few days a whole new demographic of Dr Who fans are arriving via searches for 'the Lost Moon of Poosh'.

The misguided celebrity stalkers arriving via searches for ‘N*ked photos of Fern Cotton’ and ‘Fern Cotton P*rn’ seem to be slowly petering out. A indication of her popularity perhaps?

Oh, and I seem to have at least 2 subscribers using feed readers to keep up with my self pity filled rants.

Your band, Your Album

Action is a Thought
by
Temperamento

'And you thought Lady Soverign was the only musical Talent in Wembly' - The Wembley Observer

The rules are thus:

1 - Go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 - Go to Random quotations: http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3 - Go to flickr's "explore the last seven days" http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.