Hi Diddly Dee, an Actor's Life for Me
"Those who agree with us may not be right, but we admire their astuteness."
Cullen Hightower
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The secret world of vending machines
Yes, I'm aware that this blog is very lazy at the moment, and I've talked about nothing but television for weeks, but it's just too much like hard work to actually think at the moment. In an attempt to make some incisive commentary on the stuff I'm posting, I will cynically point out that coke costs a LOT more than 10p - and when was the last time you got a glass bottle out of a vending machine? Still - very cool ad.
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A Few of My Favourite Things ...
I LOVE this ad.
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Officially addicted
Chanelle (in the diary room, about Charley): She was being really nasty about Lesley. I know it's really disgusting to take a wee in the shower and it made my stomach convu .. convil ... convol ... convul ... RETRACT. But anyway ... |
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Classic
Chanelle: you know the pool when it rains? Twins: yes Chanelle: does the rain water go in it? Twins: vacuous look Chanelle: (shocked) it does, doesn't it? Twin: will it flood?
Excellent. |
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I blame Peter J
I'm watching Big Brother on E4. I feel dirty. |
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For Huwie
As Huw so rightly pointed out yesterday, I got distracted from my original blog. So, here's the lowdown on the chatting up over the past week or so. Number One: As I walked back from the tube at about midnight, having been to an excellent comedy night. He was walking the other way from me and appeared to be about to ask me for directions or something. I therefore stopped. I don't think he could quite believe that he'd managed to make me stop, so he spent the next few minutes talking rubbish along the lines of, 'oh, aren't you the girl from - oh no, you're not. Anyway ...' He was nice-looking and chatty, so we spent a while talking, during which time he tried to ascertain what street I live on (I wouldn't tell him) and my phone number (I didn't give it to him). Actually, if we'd carried on chatting for a bit longer I would possibly have given him my number, but his mates came back and started being loud and annoying and trying to hug me, at which point I decided it was best to leave. He's local, so it's entirely possible I'll run into him again at some point, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it! Number two: As I walked along Oxford Street at about 1am, in stockinged feet, holding my shoes in my hand and probably with mascara in great streaks down my face. It had been an emotional and drunken night out and the reason I was walking was because the bus was giving me - er - motion sickness and I was better in the fresh air. Ahem. He caught up with me just as I turned into Gloucester Place and asked how I managed to walk so fast with no shoes on. This made no sense to me - of course it's faster walking without shoes. I can't remember what I said to him but he seemed to take it as an invitation to start chatting to me. I told him flat out that I'd had a bad night and wasn't interested. He tried to give me his card. I told him again that I wasn't interested. He carried on talking. I ended up getting onto a bus just to get away from him. I had to get off again two stops down the road, but at least I'd lost him. Another one of those nights where I ended up walking 90% of the way home. My tights were shredded and my feet hurt, but at least I'd got home safely. I was (quite rightly) told off for this by a concerned friend the next day, but when the homing instinct hits me I just keep walking. Number three: waiting outside Oxford Circus tube station; I was a bit early, my friend was running a bit late, so I was lounging by the railings and looking bored. While doing so, I watched the people around me for entertainment. I noticed a guy and a girl about 20 yards away from me. They didn't look totally comfortable in each other's company, and the girl kept making to put her phone to her ear. 5 minutes later, another guy appeared, she flung her arms around him in relief, and the original guy slunk off. Oh no - he's coming this way. Sure enough, he made a beeline straight for me. 'You are waiting for friend, yes?' Yes. Yes I am. Now sod off. I didn't say the last bit, obviously, but anyone with half a brain would have got the message when I started frantically looking over his shoulder for an escape route. Not him, however. He was out to pick up a girl, come hell or high water. Eventually I managed to get rid of him by just being openly rude. I wonder if he managed to find anyone daft enough to fall for it? |
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