An ode to boredom

Here is a poem about the levels of boredom I'm currently experiencing;

There once was a girl called Amy,
Who was so bored she cut off her face.

Yeah, it's not that long.

xXx

Bow Ties are cool- but this is cooler

Oh Mr Smith... You've done it now...



xXx

Does it offend you, yeah?*

Walking back from Jack's today- after having had a simply fantasmagical time with Katie, playing Little Big Planet for the first time and falling in love and then reminiscing with a little Crash Team racing (By far THE greatest racing game of all time) - I came to a pedestrian crossing where an old man was stood waiting. I noticed he hadn't yet pushed the button so i pushed it for the pair of us, to which he turned, smiled thankfully and then mouthed 'thank you' because i was listening to music at the time and had my headphones in.

I like most of the old people in Beccles- and believe me, there are enough to develop opinions of- and so i always try my hardest to come across nice, polite, and throw a smile their way. Some of them are weird and pervy, with lumps appearing in places on their body where there should be no lumps, and smells emitting from places there should be no smells, but the majority of them are lovely company and worth giving a helping hand.

Which is why i was so stunned with what happened next. We'd been stood waiting for the little man to go green for about 20 seconds, when all of a sudden the old man turned, open mouthed with a complete look of disgust on his face and shook his head-AT ME. After double taking a little i looked back at him, equally stunned, and pointed to myself with a questioning look. He shook his head, said something that looked a lot like the words "Completely disgusting behaviour", and shuffled off as the little man turned green. As we reached the other side of the road he looked back over his shoulder, looking totally disappointed in me, before walking away.

I was horrified. How i had caused him to react that way was beyond me, but i couldn't help but feel i'd just upset my Grandad. I shook it off, and walked the rest of the way home.

When i got home and walked into the living room my Ma, sat on the sofa on the other side of the room, started miming, telling me to take out my headphones. I did so, to which she then said "Christ, Amy, how loud is your music?? I could hear every word of that". I looked down at my headphones, blaring "Heaven knows I'm miserable now" ...

Then it hit me;

If Ma, on the other side of the room, could hear my music then the old man stood right next to me at the traffic lights must've been able to hear it.The song i had been listening to at the time was 'Reckless Abandon' by Blink 182, which includes the lines "Trying hard to not get caught/ He fucked a chick in a parking lot", and I realised that the old man must've heard those lines of the song whilst stood next to me, hence the reason why he walked away huffy and disappointed.

Whilst i remain cringing, i can't help but think that somewhere in the world Travis Barker, Tom DeLonge and Mark Hoppus are smiling...

xXx

*I actually hate this band, but thought the title was good . LOLZ.

What(?) I'm NAKED(?!) how did that happen(?)

A guy i know posted a link to FHM's top cover girls, and i couldn't help but be overtly curious. After having a quick perve (CHRISTINA HENDRICKS YUM), i have deduced that quite a few women chose a 'Oh my! I didn't realise anyone was going to see me draped half naked across this chair that i stumbled upon in the middle of the room! how did that happen??' look. You know the one; one arm thrown coyly over their, often ample, assets; legs conveniently crossed to avoid flashing of cooter; with a hand thrown in-front of a shocked :O expression.

I know it's only a constructed, preconceived pose, but it's a stupid one. Because ultimately they're pulling these clueless looks whilst staring down the lens of a big ol' camera, which is being manned by a bloke with a scruffy little beard.

Often, if there is a piece of equipment that records images-like a camera, for instance- and you're stood in front of it then that image can be reproduced and then you'll be seen by other people. I mean, that's what I've been led to believe...so why play dumb?

It's not a problem, i'm just confused as to why why they look confused. Is it sexy to look like that? am i missing something? Am i far more likely to pull if i walk around looking surprised all the time? The next time i'm naked in front of a boy should i look at him as if to say "You know, i'm not entirely sure how or why my clothes came off..."?

I think I'm going to have to put this theory to the test.
If, by some miracle, i actually manage to pull in the next millennium.
xXx

The Foxhole Manifesto

xXx

nameless poem. So called because it has no name. although i 'spose it's name is "nameless poem" now (stoptalking)

I could wait (you know I would)
for decades just to hear, you (should) say it,
thinking it would be the thing that gets me through the day.
But, how well we know, impossible things are just that;
moments in time, that will never occur ,
(not for me, but for her)
fabrications of occasions, lists of things I find amazing,
run from A-Z, like Road maps or phone books
(Fed up of ringing off the hook)
from the very point of every bone
through the beating muscle of every part.
And here I sit...waiting (for a change of heart?) for new breaths to start
faltering, as if by chance,
perhaps a memory will spark?
What was broken will remain, (But, then you’ve always stayed the same)
what comes of it is...
still too far away.

xXx

The Stand-Off

She's not moving, cos she wants the chair i'm sitting on. I'm not moving cos i want the chair i'm sitting on.

Charlie decides to up her game by compromising my laptop. She pushes so many buttons that it shuts itself down.

I give up the chair. I don't think my laptop could stand any more

She's comfy and i've found another chair. Both me and my laptop are covered in fur.

xXx

I want this. I want this now.

I'm hoping one day Edgar Wright will pay me for all the PR i give him.
Joss Whedon already owes me a shitload.

xXx

Adrien Brody is watching me pee

Last week I watched 'Brodyquest', and since then Adrien Brody has made an appearance almost every day of my life; Jack suggested we watch 'The Pianist'; Film4 began showing adverts for 'The Darjeeling Limited', and I found Peter Jackson's 'King Kong' recorded on our DVD Drive.

I wondered if it was sheer coincidence, like the time I watched 'Castaway' and then the very next day saw a FedEx van drive through Beccles, even though I'd never seen a FedEx van drive through anywhere before. I didn't know if it was a sign from the universe, trying to tell me I needed to Brody up my life in a big way. A part of me wondered if the conclusion to 'Brodyquest' was becoming a reality. Needless to say, none of the above worried me.

But now Adrien Brody is watching me pee. And he looks a little like my mate's boyfriend which makes it all the more disconcerting. Not that the feeling of having Adrien Brody watch you pee isn't harrowing enough. You see, Brody was on the cover of 'Live' magazine, a supplement that comes with 'The Mail on Sunday'. yes, I know many of you will be far more concerned by the idea of my family buying 'The Daily Mail' than of an Oscar-Winning Actor watching me whizz, but please; try to stay focused.

Sunday Afternoon i went for a quick tinkle, when low and behold there he was, laid out on our toilet floor, watching me pee in all his 2D glory. It was horrible. I closed my eyes, but when i opened them he was still watching. Everywhere i went his eyes followed me. Admittedly this wasn't very far, seeing as i was peeing at the time but i went out of my way to avoid his stare. I then had the ingenious idea of turning the magazine over, but that glorious plan was scuppered when a sultry looking Jenson Button appeared, as if from nowhere on the other side of the magazine, and started trying to sell me sparkly expensive watches from Switzerland. I decided Brody was the lesser of two evils- at least he had the decency to wait 'til I'd finished peeing before he started trying to sell me stuff. When I'd left the loo, I tried explaining to my mother that I found it horrible having Adrien Brody occupy our toilet and watching me pee, but she walked away muttering something about all her children being insane.

He's still in there now, waiting i expect. I've tried moving him twice, but he always finds his way back in there. The recycling comes soon i think though, so hopefully that'll finally put an end to Adrien Brody haunting my toilet.

xXx

Why i would be a rubbish footballer

If i was a footballer I'd find it really hard not to kick the football into the nearest goal, even if it wasn't the one I'm supposed to be shooting at; I'd just see a goal and my foot would naturally try it's hardest to get the ball into that goal. It'd resemble something like this;

"OOH football!!Run-Run-Run-Run-Huh?OMG A GOAL!! MUST SCORE! MUST SCORE!! Get round this bloke, get round this bloke, ARGH THE GOALIE! Get out of the way, silly man, i need to score!! (Shoots balls) YESS!! YES IT'S IN!!I SCORED A GOOOOAAAL!! I- wait...why is no one else cheeri- oh. oh dear. I did it again,didn't I? That- that's not the right goal, is it? No? Shit."

I think my boobs are too big, too. Not only would there be a continuous stream of 'Footballs down your shirt' themed jokery, but I'd probably end up either knocking myself out or breaking my back with all that running. My inherent clumsiness would be another drag on the teams efficiency- my inability to walk in a straight line and total lack of spatial awareness would probably be considered less of a cute thing and more of a mentally challenged thing. I could get loads of free kicks and penalties though; I go down so easily... That last sentence makes me sound more like a WAG then a footballer.

I'd make everything into a double entendre too;
Manly Football Man: So, any preferred position?
Me:...Excuse me?
MFM: Well, we need to know which is your favourite position. you know, in order to make the most of you.
Me:That's personal information!! There's no way i'm telling you that!! Take your blokes, and your balls, elsewhere!!!

On top of all of this, I'd probably really annoy all my other footballer friends by humming the MOTD theme song all the time whilst playing. Occasionally i get both that tune and the intro to Johnny Cash's 'Ring Of Fire' mucked up, so that would only add to the annoyance factor. They do sound the same though, sometimes. In my head anyway...

All of these things would be a massive problem if I played professionally, but seeing as i don't even play unprofessionally I doubt they ever will be

xXx

Making Custard- the ol' fashioned way

(Amy wanders into the kitchen, having decided that she would like to have some of the spotted dick that Mum made Dad for Father's Day)
Amy: Hehe...spotted dick...
(She decides that it'll be no good unless there's custard to have with it, and after a quick rummage through her cupboards discovers some lovely bird's eye instant custard)
Amy: CUSTAAARD!! om nom nom nom
(She pours the custard into the measuring jug, and then decides to read the instructions)
Amy: Hmm...add sugar and milk? what, before the water? That seems weird... Ah well, i spose if it says it on the packet
(She, carefully, spills sugar everywhere before managing to get two tablespoons into the jug, then adds the boling water, having forgotten about addin-)
Amy:SHIT!! i forgot the milk!!
(There it is...)
Amy:crap crap crap!!
(She hastily pours in the milk before beginning to stir the contents of the jug with a spoon. quickly the colour of the custard/milk/sugar/water mix turns to a horrific yellow)
Amy:Er...Ok...
(She adds more water, before stirring faster, desperate for the colour to at least dull a little, instead of being luminous. No custard is luminous)
Amy: This can't be right...no custard is luminous... what's that smell??!!
(the 'custard' is that smell. it smells disgusting. she begins stirring harder and harder, but the colour doesn't dull at all and the smell only grows stronger- if anything her stirring is making it worse)
Amy:MY STIRRING IS MAKING IT WORSE!!
(Her Dad, Pandy, hears all the commotion, and comes into the kitchen)
Pandy: Amy, what are you doin-
Amy:TRYING TO MAKE CUSTARD!!!!!
Pandy: OK, ok, well what's gone wron-...amy, what kind of custard is that?
Amy: The stuff that was in the packet. you know the packet stuff, in the cupboard.
(Amy's father is very confused)
Pandy: The instant stuff, do you mean the instant custard that was in the cupboard?
Amy: Yes!
(Pandy picks up the pack as Amy returns to her stirring)
Pandy: Did you read this?
Amy: Yeah, UH DUHH, of course! it's not that hard to make instant custard, i don't understand why-
Pandy: This isn't instant.
(Amy stops stirring)
Amy: What?
Pandy: Yeah, you're supposed to boil milk, and mix it up over the stove, in a saucepan. I suppose you put boiling water in there?
Amy:(looking despondent) Well, yeah, i mean-
Pandy: Yeah, you weren't supposed to. It says here, very clearly-
Amy: But-
Pandy: "Add-
Amy: I-
Pandy: "HOT-
Amy: Why-
Pandy: Milk."
(shows Amy the packet)
Amy: Oh. (looks at the mess in the jug) well, is it salvageable?
Pandy:(looking in the jug) Yeah, i'm gonna say no.
(Amy mulls this over for half a minute, looking from the packet to the jug and to the packet again)
Amy: So, i've just wasted a packet of custard?
Pandy: Yeah, pretty much. I mean, i'm sure there's more in here... (Pandy goes to cupboard and begins rummaging around) Yeah!! look, here's some- oh, no, that's angel delight.
Amy: God, how old is that? i have had that since i was like 10-
Pandy: (reading the back of the packet) Sell by date is 05/2000.
(Both stand in silence, stunned by the discovery of decade old dessert)
Amy: Well, is there any custard left? Cos i can't have the pudding without it, it's too dry
Pandy: No, sorry. i've gotta go down the shop though, so i'll see if they have any.
Amy: I think i'll try and save this...i think it could work.
(Pandy goes to the shop, and Amy sets about righting her custard wrongs. She pours half a pint of milk into a saucepan, heats it, then adds the fail mixture from the jug into the milk. As she's doing this, Mum comes downstairs)
Mum: Amy, do you wan- OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Amy: I'm baking!!!Look, see it's-
Mum: Oh my god what is that?!?!
Amy: Custard!!
(Mum gives amy a withering look)
Mum: THAT is not custard. did you sieve it?
(Amy looks at Mum blankly, as the milk begins to boil)
Mum: Amy, did you seive i-WATCH OUT IT'S BURNING!
Amy: Oh!! oh crap!!
(The milk is now no longer bubbling, but a strange smell has filled the kitchen and there are lumps floating in the middle of the saucepan)
Amy:There- see? See, Mum, look, it's...it's ok, now i think
Mum: and WHY did you start all this?
Amy: Well, i thought it was instant- (Mum sighs, and then walks out of the kitchen) So i added boiling water to it...Mum? So this isn't good then, no?
(Mum comes back into the kitchen)
Mum: So, did you actually look for more instant custard after you did this?
Amy: YES. (Mum looks blankly at Amy) I DID!!
Mum: Really? you REALLY looked through this cupboard for more custard?
(mum goes out and gets a chair from the living room so she can see on the second shelf)
Amy: Yes, yes I did. And dad looked- dad looked too, he couldn't see ANY, so he said he'd get me some down the shop. Seriously, we looked so hard, we found nothing.
(Pandy comes through the front door, and is holding instant custard.)
Pandy: Here we go!!!
(He places it down on the side- just as mum pulls out a packet of instant custard from the cupboard. The sell by date is definitely within the last decade)

Review: Wild Target

After watching the trailer for Wild Target I couldn't help but be intrigued by it's...well, it's impeccable British-ness. I got the feeling that this film would go all out to be a quintessential British Comedy, to an extent where if I could tell as this just by having watched the trailer would it all be a little too much? You have Bill Nighy, who could not be more of a classic British actor if he tried, Emily Blunt who's recent roles include that of the longest reigning Monarch in UK history and Rupert Grint, most famous for playing Ron Weasley in the Harry Potter films- Well, culturally, what's more British than Harry Potter??

The British-ness however, ends up saving it somewhat- by the end of the film you're safe in the knowledge that you've just watched a terribly British comedy, and one which tradition serves well. The story itself was interesting enough to keep you captivated for the 2 hours it runs for- An elite hit-man, Victor Maynard (Bill Nighy) is hired to kill a young con-woman, Rose (Emily Blunt), but when it comes down to it he can't, so decides instead to protect her and hilarity ensues. Which it does, a little- there are very funny moments in this film, but not enough to keep you laughing and certainly not ones substantial enough for a film classing itself as a comedy. There are chuckle inducing lines and Rupert Grint, in a completely different role from whatever we've seen him in before, provides some excellent physical comedic value. But the fact that now I'm sitting here struggling to remember examples of these funny times demonstrates the weakness of those moments- at the time while watching yes they are funny; but they leave your mind very quickly and if you're left thinking 'I can't remember why I laughed' that doesn't bode too well.

There were aspects the film could have done without, and certainly unnecessary characters and plot lines. I thought Rupert Everett's role would've been played better by a lesser name, as his character, whilst being necessary, is built up by the film to be more than he actually is. There is also a running theme in the questioning as to what Victor's sexuality is, which is randomly and abruptly dropped in a very surreal scene that looked as is it had been chucked in at the last minute. it open many doors and never closed them, leaving you thinking 'Well, hang on, what about that other bit? what was THAT about?'.

Another running theme throughout the film was the use of french, which before i knew that this is based on the old classic french black comedy 'Cible Emouvante' made little or no sense to me. i understand now that both the writer and director are simply attempting to pay homage but that was lost, literally in translation. We hear Victor learning french, but never learn why. and the phrases are never ones of use, always very obscure lines.

There are a lot of ideas introduced that are never truly explored, and for that reason the relationships between the characters sometimes came across as forced. Whilst all the actors did an amazing job the writing let them down, with the dialogue sometimes coming across as mediocre and a tad cliche.

Having said all that it's only upon deep reflection into the film, and whilst looking at it in an incredibly scrutinising manner, that i actually found these faults. I came out of the cinema feeling that i had been fulfilled and entertained, and thought I'd made the most of the £5.45 i spent (thank you, beloved student discount!!). It was a thoroughly enjoyable film, and as i say at the time did make me laugh very much.

It was great for me, because I'd never seen Nighy in a leading role before, more the fool me, and found him to be quite the revelation. It's definitely made me think about going out of my way to find more of his films and TV appearances, because he is an incredibly fine actor, particularly with his mannerisms and facial expressions. Blunt was quirky and carried the character well, but was overshadowed somewhat by her two co-stars. the only problem was the quirkiness of Rose came through a little over-the-top, as if she was trying far too hard to be different; i don't know if this is because of Coxon's Writing, Lynn's direction or Blunt's acting, but she struck me as too keen in some points of the film. Grint was also, however, an absolute revelation- he and Nighy are now somewhat of a dream team in my mind now. His comic timing was impeccable, although flashes of his other, more famous, characters did come through; however these worked more so in his favour than against him, as his character Tony partially stole the show for me. A very creepy, but again perhaps unnecessary, turn by Martin Freeman as Dixon the hit-man hired to kill Rose and Maynard can be appreciated, but his character needed more developing- they could have made far more of Freeman's talent than they chose to.

As a random, casual cinema goer i would recommend it- it was fun, entertaining and a great way to spend two hours, with fine acting company and quite a good soundtrack. However, if you are a hardcore cinema goer who finds joy in picking out minuscule plot-holes, flaws and perhaps occasional unrealistic dialogue I'd maybe avoid it. Like i said- it wasn't until i really started looking at it in my head that i had my doubts about it. But if you're looking for something to do and can't wait until the 23rd July when TOY STORY 3 is released (why America gets it over a month early is both beyond me and hugely frustrating), i heartily recommend it.

PLUS (and with one sweeping sentence i rid myself of any writing credibility i may have just managed to scrape together) Rupert Grint has his shirt off, and is in the bath. A lot. So, if you ever needed a reason to see this film i have just handed it to you on a plate. A robot wall-papered, Internet-laden plate.

xXx

Wanking

Amy: LOL
Alex: What?
Amy: The amount of porn on your laptop, man
Alex: HEY- I'M A MAN. I have needs.
Amy:You're a boy and you get bored
Alex: I feel the fire in my loins rising, and I need to put them out.