Underappreciated Film Genres Revealed

So, you know my friend Heather right?

Well, she works from home, which is awesome for her but something I could never do because I would do things like say "Oh, I think I'll just watch Office Space before I finish that spreadsheet" and then I wouldn't get anything done because I have virtually no self discipline. Anyway, I chat with her on Messenger during the day from time to time, and she happened to mention that she was watching the classic 80's film Troop Beverley Hills, the delightful film starring national treasure Shelley Long.

That got us on to a conversation about movies that we loved that are crap. Unsurprisingly, I have many of these.

I was inspired to look up two TV movies I'd recorded as a kid and watched millions of times. To my surprise and delight, both were available on DVD. I wasn't going to pay the crazy Amazon prices of upwards of £10. What am I, made of money? Fortunately, I have had much experience in tracking down the cheap and not very good movie so I headed right over to eBay.

And did I find them? Oh, did I ever!

And that's how the the two greatest TV movies of the late 80's and early 90's came to join my film collection.

Now those of you who didn't grow up in North America perhaps aren't familiar with the phenomenon of the network extravaganza made-for-TV movie. I don't think they exist anymore, but there were certainly tons of them when I was a kid. Basically, a network would pull stars from all its sitcoms and put them in a fantastic film. How could this possibly go wrong?

The first is 1990's Camp Cucamonga.

It's the touching tale of Marvin Schector (John Ratzenberger - Cheers) and his summer camp, Camp Cucamonga.

Marvin, or Colonel Marv as he's known to the campers, has just given up life as an accountant to fulfill his dream of running a camp. Supported by wife Millie (Dorothy Lyman - Mama's Family) and daughter Ava (a pre-Friends Jennifer Aniston - Ferris Bueller), he has to deal with an amusing mix-up between the handyman (Sherman Hemsley - Amen) and the camp inspector (G. Gordon Liddy - no TV shows, but you may remember him from the Watergate scandal. Seriously. No, seriously.). The mix-up results in the camp losing its accreditation. Oh no! How can the camp survive?

Why, it's resourceful campers to the rescue! Rebellious Lindsey (Danica McKellar - The Wonder Years) is finding it tough to fit in at camp. She's made friends with fellow outcast Max (Josh Saviano - also The Wonder Years), but isn't fitting in with fellow campers Amber (Candace Cameron - Full House), Dennis (Jaleel White - Family Matters) and Frankie (Chad Allen - My Two Dads). Will her suggestion of a rap video to send to the head of the camping association save the camp, win the friendship of the other campers (and Frankie's heart) and aid the blossoming relationship between Ava and fellow counsellor Roger (Brian Robbins - Head of the Class)?

Well, I don't want to spoil it for you, so I won't tell you. But I will tell you that the Camp Cucamonga rap is the single best thing ever. (Camp Cucamonga, oh yeah, oh yeah).

The second film is my favourite. I recorded it from TV in 1988, and probably watched it about seven thousand times before the tape was lost.

It's classic film Dance 'Til Dawn. I seriously cannot tell you how much I love this movie. Love, love, love.

It's the moving story of the graduates of the '88 class of Hoover High. It focuses on several different groups of teenagers and their parents, and I don't know how you can fail to be delighted.

Class popular girl Shelley Sheridan (Alyssa Milano - Who's The Boss) hasn't been asked to the prom by her boyfriend of four years Kevin McCrea (Brian Bloom - As The World Turns) because he doesn't think she'll put out. Encouraged by his friends, Kevin asks out school weirdo Angela Strull (Tracey Gold - Growing Pains) who he thinks is a slut. Angela forgoes her longstanding plans with best friend Margaret (Tempestt Bledsoe - The Cosby Show) and agrees to go with Kevin.

While avoiding the prom, while still pretending to her parents that she's going with Kevin, Shelley runs into class geek Dan Lefcourt (Chris Young - Max Headroom). Dan is hiding out from his father, Jack Lefcourt (Alan Thicke - also Growing Pains), who thinks that he's actually cool.

Angela surprises her friends and Kevin by turning into a hot chick when she puts on her mom's old black sequined prom dress. Her dad (Kelsey Grammer - Cheers) is scandalised when he meets Kevin, whom he sold condoms to earlier. Certain that Kevin is up to no good, he and Angela's mom (Edie McClurg - The Hogan Family) follow them for the night and get up to all kinds of wacky hijinks.

Class snob Patrice Johnson (Christina Applegate - Married with Children), along with her lazy boyfriend Roger (a pre-friends Matthew Perry - Second Chance), is determined to be prom queen and have a fabulous apres prom party. Her parents, prom chaperones Nancy (Mary Frann - Newhart) and Larry (Cliff De Young - the only cast member without a TV show), are going through a rough patch and are planning to divorce.

Will Margaret find out that Kevin is using Angela for sex? Will Shelley and Dan realize that popular kids and geeks can both be lonely? Will Angela be named prom queen? Will Kevin realize that he likes Angela for herself, not just her imaginary sluttiness? Will Patrice and Roger be stranded and unable to attend the apres prom party? Will Nancy and Larry remember why they fell in love in the first place? Will Angela reject Kevin and achieve a new self confidence? Will Shelley and Dan fall in love? Will Roger dump Patrice and announce that he wants to be a fireman?

If you answered no to any of those questions, then you have clearly never watched TV or seen a movie before, and I obviously have nothing in common with you.

I can't even tell you how happy it makes me to have these two movies in my collection.

Now, I just have to track down this one that Aaron told me about - 1988's Crash Course. I haven't seen it, but I know I'll love it.

Forwards That Actually Made Me Laugh, pt 2

Jess at work sent me this today. I actually laughed out loud. Good stuff, I say.

20 Ways To Maintain A Healthy Level Of Insanity

1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and point a Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down.

2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice.

3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, Ask If They Want Fries with that.

4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label It "In."

5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks. Once Everyone has Gotten Over Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch to Espresso.

6. In The Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write "For Smuggling Diamonds"

7. Finish All Your sentences with "In Accordance With The Prophecy."

8. dont use any punctuation

9. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk.

10. Order a Diet Water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face.

11. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is "To Go."

12. Sing Along At The Opera.

13. Go To A Poetry Recital And Ask Why The Poems Don't Rhyme

14. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area And Play tropical Sounds All Day.

15. Five Days In Advance, Tell Your Friends You Can't Attend Their Party Because You're Not In The Mood.

16. Have Your Co-workers Address You By Your Wrestling Name, Rock Bottom.

17. When The Money Comes Out The ATM, Scream "I Won!, I Won!"

18. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The Parking lot, Yelling "Run For Your Lives, They're Loose!!"

19. Tell Your Children Over Dinner. "Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go."

20. And The Final Way To Keep A Healthy Level Of Insanity.......

Send This E-mail To Someone To Make Them Smile.

Its Called Therapy.

Despite the haphazard capitalization, and the cheesy #20, I heartily approve of all of these things, in accordance with the prophecy.

Happy Belated Birthday to Me!

Random things regarding my birthday

Apparently this is me:

Your Birthdate: November 5

You have many talents, and you are great at sharing those talents with others. Most people would be jealous of your clever intellect, but you're just too likeable to elicit jealousy. Progressive and original, you're usually thinking up cutting edge ideas. Quick witted and fast thinking, you have difficulty finding new challenges. Your strength: Your superhuman brainpower Your weakness: Your susceptibility to boredom Your power color: Tangerine Your power symbol: Ace Your power month: May

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

***

Bette wrote a lovely little something about yours truly on her blog. Isn't she a delight?

***

Mike sent me a virtual birthday cake.

Pretty, no? And it has 28 candles! Well played, Mike. Well played.

***

Apparently, this is also me:

Section 1: How You Approach Life and How You Appear To Others

Ferociously proud and somewhat vain, you like to be impressive and to be seen as Somebody Special. You are not timid, meek, or self-effacing, and are rarely content being in the background or in the subordinate position. You are a natural leader, and do not take orders from others very well. You must have something of your own, something creative - be it a business, a project, a home or whatever - that you can develop and manage according to your own will and vision. Whatever you do, you do it in a unique, dramatic, individual way. You like to put your own personal stamp on it.

Section 2: The Inner You: Your Real Motivation

Quiet, deep, emotionally complex and intensely private, you are not a person who is easy to get to know and understand. You are extremely sensitive but disinclined to show it, and you allow only a special few into your inner world. Like a wary animal, you are cautious and mistrustful of those you do not know until you "sniff them out".
You are very, very instinctive and intuitive. You usually have a strong, immediate gut reaction to people, even though you may be unable to clearly articulate why you feel as you do. Your feelings and perceptions go deeper than words.

***

I had a lovely birthday, with lots of white wine. (No, seriously. So much wine.) I got great presents, and had a great time with friends.

27 worked out pretty well for me. I've got a pretty good feeling about 28.

Did I mention I'm still at work?

It's 6:58pm. I'm still at work. I'm waiting for a VHS of a half hour programme, so that I can transcribe the voice over for a recording session we have at 9 tomorrow morning.

It will probably take an hour. If I'm lucky.

Oh yeah, my job's all about the glamour.

Also, my birthday is in two days.

But that doesn't help with the whole still-at-work-when-I-could-be-drunk-with-Buffy thing.

It's now 7:02. Still waiting.

100 Things About Me

I got this from Gwen, who got it from various other people. I thought I'd give it a shot.

I was born in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario on November 5th, 1977. I feel an affinity with Star Wars (released the year I was born) and Elvis (died the year I was born). They both clearly have something to do with me.

I’m a Scorpio. I’ve always felt that I was a typical Scorpio. I also think it’s the coolest zodiac sign.

My middle name is Elizabeth. About ten girls in my grade in school had the same middle name. It wasn’t until I moved to England that someone mentioned to me that it probably had something to do with the silver Jubilee. My dad was surprised that I didn’t know that.

I have a scar on around wrist that I got when I was two years old. Boiling water from a teapot spilled onto my wrist, and the cuff of my shirt held it there. I like my scar quite a lot. I think it has character. Most people don’t notice it at all, or assume that it’s from a watch. If I had the option of getting it removed, I wouldn’t.

I have a younger brother named Peter. He’s 18 months younger than I am. According to my grandmother, when I was about 10 or so, I decided it wasn’t cool to be friends with my brother and started being mean to him. I don’t remember that, but I still feel bad about it.

We moved when I was 9. I don’t remember the Soo that well, but it has that idyllic childhood feel. I do remember that I didn’t want to go to my going away party because I was sulky.

19 years later, I am still often sulky.

I lived in Goderich, Ontario from the ages of 9 to 18. It’s a lovely town, and since my parents don’t live there anymore, other to go to weddings, I probably won’t be back.

That makes me sad. I have a fondness for Goderich that I didn’t have when I lived there.

My first job was at a bowling alley. I made snacks, untangled the strings that held the pins, rented and cleaned shoes and served behind the bar. Or at least, I served behind the bar until they realized I was only 17 and it was illegal.

I wanted to get a job when I was 13, but my parents wouldn’t let me. Then, when I was looking at 16, I couldn’t find one because everyone my age had experience.

I went to summer camp every summer from the age of nine. I didn’t like it much, but loved it when I became a counsellor. I made some really great friends there, and but I’ve lost touch with most of them. I think that’s really too bad.

I was a smart kid slacker in high school. I was in gifted classes, and got okay grades without doing any work.

My mom once told me that if I spent as much time studying as I did working out what percentage I needed to get on final exams in order to get the grade of my choice, I’d probably get straight A’s.

She was probably right.

I moved to Toronto after the first semester of my OAC year (grade 13, to you non-Ontarians). I lived with friends of the family in their basement, took pottery and paper mache classes, went to foreign films, hung out with my camp friends and did very little. That was an awesome time.

I still get introduced by those friends of the family as “This is Alice, she used to live in our basement”

I dropped out of university after two years. I planned to only take a year off, but that was six years ago, so I really don’t think I’m going to go back.

It doesn’t bother me that I don’t have a degree. I work in TV. No one cares.

It bothers me when people find out I don’t have a degree and are shocked and/or appalled. I don’t get that. It seems to me to be a kind of intellectual snobbery that really irritates me.

I’ve been dying my hair since I was fourteen, and I’ve had the following hair colours: every shade of blonde imaginable, purple, pink, auburn, orange, dark brown and mahogany. I’m not entirely sure what my natural hair colour is. I suspect it’s a medium brown.

I have been a maid of honour twice, a bridesmaid once, and a witness at a non-church wedding once. I love weddings. They’re so fun! This year was the first time I’ve been at a wedding I wasn’t involved in. It was much more relaxing.

I’ve done the makeup for four brides. I seem to have a lot of friends that never wear makeup. This is a mystery to me. But I think I’m pretty good at it.

I’ve worn glasses since I was 10. I wear contacts sometimes, but always feel more comfortable with glasses. I don’t think I’d ever get laser surgery or anything like that.

I can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up and be able to see immediately.

I love sleeping. If given the option, I’d probably sleep for 10 or 11 hours a night. Mmmmmmm, sleep.

27 is my favourite number.

I set my alarm for an hour before I get up, and press the snooze button 5 or 6 times. I’ve tried to just get up, and it doesn’t work for me unless I have something specific I need to get up for, like a plane or something like that.

I’m a Canadian size 8.5 shoe, a UK 6 and a European 39.

A guy once bought me shoes on the second date. They’re sparkly pink trainers and I love them, but I can’t wear them because they pinch my toes.

I never told him that when we were going out.

I still have them, though.

I miss having a cat.

Foods I hated as a child but now like: broccoli tops, spinach, and Brussels sprouts.

Until about thirty seconds ago, I thought they were called “brussel sprouts”.

I am a very good speller. I was told by a teacher when I was a kid that it was because I read a lot.

I read a lot.

No, really. A lot.

I consider myself generally well read, and read lots “good” books, but I read a lot of crap too. Sometimes, I like books and movies you don’t have to think about.

I always have a song running through my head. It usually stems from an outside influence, but sometimes it’s totally random.

I love to people watch, and especially enjoy eavesdropping on other people’s conversations. I like hearing little snippets of stranger’s lives.

I regret giving away my Barbie dolls when I was a teenager. I wish I had them to give to my kids one day.

I’m not even sure I will have kids. I wish I had them so I could play with them.

I’m very bad at confrontation, and tend to cry during fights.

This makes my arguments less effective.

I’m crap at doing accents. People always think I should be able to do a British accent, since I’ve lived here for so long. I cannot. I do a passable Southern US accent. That’s all.

I’ve lived in the UK for just over four years now.

I’d only planned to stay for a year.

I should know better by now about planning things for a year. They tend to become permanent.

I love London. It’s a city I feel incredibly comfortable in, and I can imagine myself here for the foreseeable future.

When I think now of moving here knowing absolutely no one and having nowhere to live, I can’t believe I had the courage to move here.

I don’t think I’m that brave now.

I have a collection of books with “Alice books”. My parent’s friend Charlotte has bought me books with Alice in the title or as a main character since I was a kid. She still sends them to me.

That’s incredibly cool, and I can’t wait to do the same for my friend’s kids.

I can’t wait for my friends to have kids. I’m going to be such a wicked Aunt Alice.

Sometimes I’m not sure that I’m really a grown up. I’m almost thirty. That doesn’t seem right.

I’ve never had a nickname, other than at camp where all the counsellors had nicknames. For a brief period when I was ten, I was “Allie”. My dad and brother call me “Al”. In the past five years or so, more and more people call me “Al”. I’m not sure why, but I don’t dislike it.

I’ve always like the song “You Can Call Me Al” by Paul Simon.

I loved the show “Kate and Allie” when I was a kid. That’s some quality comedy, right there.

I have a not-so-secret fondness for sitcoms of the late seventies, eighties and early nineties.

I also can describe the set of any of those sitcoms to you in great detail.

That part of my brain is where things like “remembering my keys” should go.

I’d like to do more travelling. I need to get off my ass and sort that out.

I’ve lived in the following countries: Canada, the UK, the Bahamas.

I’ve been to the following countries: the US, Mexico, Cuba, France, Portugal, the Czech Republic.

The New Kids on the Block was my favourite band when I was 11 & 12.

They were the first group I saw in concert.

Donnie was my favourite, but I had a crush on Joey because he was closer to my age, so it was therefore more feasible that we could date.

When asked to pick a favourite movie, I can’t ever think of one. My fallback is “The Shawshank Redemption”, but I don’t know if that’s true. I love it, but is it my number one favourite? I’m not sure.

I have a desperate longing to own the complete ten seasons of “Friends” on DVD. Although it costs £129.99, which I can’t afford, I’ll probably get it when I’m rich with mortgage money.

Being rich with mortgage money makes me nervous.

I’m looking forward to decorating my new place. I’ve already chosen my colour schemes.

My soft drink chain of preference is Diet Coke, regular Pepsi, regular Coke, Diet Pepsi.

I think Diet Pepsi is gross like poison.

I am a movie wuss, and get scared and jumpy in scary movies.

I still love them, though.

I didn’t watch horror movies until I was 18, because I thought I’d be too scared. That’s because “Gremlins” terrified me when I was a kid.

I am now aware that “Gremlins” is a comedy. I did not know this at the time.

I love that I live in a country that has fireworks on my birthday.

I dislike it when the aforementioned fireworks get in the way of my birthday plans.

I love having parties, and going to parties, but I hate planning them. It’s very tense, and my worry that no one will turn up gets me all stressed.

I love holidays, especially my birthday. I also love Christmas and Halloween, although I haven’t done anything Halloweeny in a few years.

I’m very excited about getting a Christmas tree this year.

I cry during TV shows. I’m what they call a “sucker”. Every other episode of “Scrubs” makes me cry.

I’ve read the book “Love Story” about forty and it makes me cry every single time.

I’ve never seen the movie.

I don’t like to see movies when I’ve read the book. They never measure up. I will, however, read the book if I’ve seen the movie first.

I’m a book snob, and don’t buy books with movie covers.

I’m friends with lots of poets, but I don’t read poetry. I read too fast, and skim when I read. That doesn’t work with poetry.

I love musicals, both movies and plays. It’s my secret dream that I will one day be somewhere and everyone will burst into song and dance. That would be so freakin’ awesome.

I wish I was more artistic. I’d like to be able to paint.

My grandmother is a painter, and I have three of her paintings in my flat. Two are of burning buildings and I think they’re amazing.

That is not because I’m a pyromaniac. One time you set a receipt on fire at a restaurant, and you’re labelled for life.

This is first time in my life that all my family – parents, brother and all grandparents – live in the same city.

I have two rings that I wear everyday. One is a $5 silver ring I bought in Cuba with a polished stone in it. The other is a Navajo silver ring with turquoise that my grandfather bought for my grandmother in the seventies. They’re both cool, and I feel naked when I leave my house without them.

I also wear earrings and bracelets every day, but I rotate them according to my outfit.

I have four stuffed animals on the top of my TV. A Cheshire cat from “Alice In Wonderland” that I bought at Disneyland when I was 16, a white polar bear my mother sent me for Christmas the first year I lived in the UK, a multicoloured bean bag type lizard she gave me last year and a Husky dog my grandmother gave me. The polar bear has two badges on it.

I don’t think of myself as the kind of person that keeps stuffed animals.

I think I look really good in a tiara, and I am sad there aren’t more excuses to wear them in real life.

I’m about seven films behind on the Guttenberg Project and it’s making me feel guilty.

Finished! Man, that's harder than you'd think.

You Know What's Really Annoying?

When you move into a flat, and it's got these great high ceilings, and you're all like "Oooooh, this is so fabulous! Look at these great high ceilings! And the super huge windows! How fabulous!".

And the flat is great, because even though it's small, the super high ceilings make you feel like it's got more space than it has, and when you're living in a room that holds your bed, your fabulous £10 chair, a chest of drawers, a desk and that's about it.

But then, one day, just after you get home from work, your overhead lightbulb burns out.

"No problem", you think to yourself. "I'll just get the step stool and change it. Isn't it clever of me to have a spare lightbulb in the flat?"

But oooooooh, no. It's not going to be that easy.

Because when you stand on that stool, and reach as high as you possibly can and stand on your very tippy-toes, you're still about a foot short of being able to even touch the lightbulb, let alone change it.

Did I mention that your bedside table lamp is also burned out? Because it is.

You attempt to pull the bed into the middle of the room and put the step stool onto the bed, but after taking one step, realize that this is a horribly bad idea, since it's about the farthest thing from steady it could be.

Stupid high ceilings. Not so fabulous now, are they?

Stupid lack of light in my flat.

Where the hell am I going to get a ladder?

Oooh, it's a new look!

I've decided to shake things up around here. I've got a bit of a new look for the Dark Place. What do y'all think?

Things You Learn On The Night Bus

I took the night bus home from east London last night, which is something I rarely do, as I try to avoid east London. (I'm a London snob and I won't be ashamed of it. Hey, I'm moving to south London. There's only so much I can do.)

But anyway. I was on the 253 heading towards Camden, and for the majority of the journey, I was sitting beside these two girls. Now, this is past midnight on a Saturday night, so I'll leave it to your judgement to decide whether they were drunk or not. (Hint: they were.) Normally, I'm not such a nosy eavesdropper, but my book was boring, and they were far more entertaining.

In the lengthy journey back to where sensible people live, I learned an awful lot about these two girls. It started out fairly innocuously. Girl One (let's call her Angie) was talking about how she was worried about Girl Two's (and let's call her Trish) cold lingering for so long. Trish pointed out that such is the life someone who works with kids, and she'd probably get better on the half term break.

Then things took a turn. Apparently, Angie is constantly worried about pregnancy. She's currently worried that she may be pregnant, but she just had her period, so she won't be able to know if she's late for another month. That means that she's got a month of imagining that she's pregnant and stressing about it.

Trish pointed out that she could probably do something to prevent the possible pregnancies by practicing some form of birth control. Angie didn't seem to think this would work for her.

Angie then mentioned that she has spent the last two or three years in a constant state of worry about whether or not she was pregnant, and if she was, how she would find the £250 to take care of things, because she'd rather go on holiday.

(It's here I should mention that these were not supremely tacky teenagers with absolutely no sense, but seemingly normal looking girls in their mid to late twenties.)

Trish then horrified Angie by mentioning that if she got pregnant, she wouldn't consider it to be the worst thing in the world. Angie was disgusted and kept saying "but why?" in a mystified tone of voice. Trish pointed out that, unlike Angie and her current habit of sluttiness, she was in a relationship in which they planned on getting married and having children, and so it would just be a bit earlier than planned.

Angie was all "but, ew! You couldn't go on holiday if you had babies" or something stupid like that. She then said she wouldn't go on the pill, even though she had a prescription and had the pills at home, because it had affected Trish badly when she took it.

It was then that I began to feel badly for Trish, because she seemed like a rational and sensible girl, but she was afflicted by the tragedy of having a deeply, deeply stupid friend.

I had to physically restrain myself from leaning over to this girl and saying "Excuse me, but are you insane? You're admitttedly slutty, which is fine if it works for you, but you seem to live in some dream world in which hoping that you won't get pregnant is an effective form of birth control. And never mind pregnancy, what about all the other things that can happen when you practice unprotected sex? What about diseases? Is hope also an effective preventative measure for that? And who are these guys that are all okay with sleeping with you without protection? Do you lie to them, and tell them you're on the pill? You know what? Carry a condom in your bag. If you're old enough to have sex, (and you definitely are, as you're nearing thirty) you're old enough to have some sense. God, grow up."

Obviously, I said nothing, but I thought it very hard and I have some hope that my psychic ability sent some of the thoughts her way. I had to get off the bus before I heard the end of the conversation though.

I can imagine it going down the line of Angie being all "but if I am pregnant, a baby would be such a cute accessory!" Which is probably good that I missed, because I would have had to slap her then and I probably would have been kicked off the bus and it would have been a whole big thing.

People, there is exciting news!

So, remember how I'm house searching?

And how I was putting an offer in on a flat? Well, there is fabulous news! The offer has been accepted! And, baby, those orange velour floor length curtains are ALL MINE!

Woo hoo!!

Well, it's not finalized yet. It's very complicated, buying property in this country. But my offer was accepted, my mortgage has been approved, I have a solicitor, and the ball, she is rolling.

It's a delightful ex-council flat in Balham, which is a lovely area in south London. It's a two bedroom flat, with a garden. It's not in the nicest condition right now, but I'm all excited for getting new flooring and painting and all the fun stuff.

This is what the living room looks right now.

I will be making it look prettier.

And this is the kitchen.

You'll not the ample counter space, and unattractive wall units. I haven't decided what exactly to do here, but I'm pretty sure I'll leave it as is, and just paint the doors. I think the appliances are in okay shape, but I may have to replace them. The kitchen's also big enough for a table. Delightful!

There is also a garden, and I have full plans to be an amazing gardener and make it fabulous. (The sound you hear right now is my mother's hysterical laughter.) It isn't in good condition right now, but this is the garden of another flat in the same estate I looked at.

Isn't that cute? I could totally make a garden look that delightful. After I buy a bunch of "Gardening for Dummies Who Are Also Plant Killer" type books. Those must exist, right?

I'm very excited about the whole thing, as you can imagine. And, I'm getting a pull out couch for the living room, and you know what that means. All guests will be welcome at Casa Alice!

Yay!

I've got tons and tons of paint samples, and gardening catalogues and all sorts of things. I'm working on a colour scheme and styles and all kinds of things.

I've still got to get the survey done and hopefully they'll only have good things to say about the structure of the flat.

Fingers crossed.

Also, yay!

The shame!

So, the most embarrassing thing happened to me the other day.

Imagine if you will - you’re on a very stressful rally doing some filming for British TV.

You're in Telluride, Colorado, which has an elevation of around 9500 feet.

To blow off a bit of steam, you have a beer or five at the bar with the crew.

Said beers affect you a bit more than they usually would, because of the altitude.

You take a school bus back to the hotel, along with the rest of the rally entrants. You manage to remain standing for the whole twisty turny scarily fast journey.

You will soon find this ironic.

You're one of the last people off the bus.

It's a rainy day, the stairs are a bit muddy, and you're wearing flip flops.

You wipe out in the most spectacular fashion, with your legs flying right out from under you and you crashing hard onto the steps in a sitting position.

Your ass gets bruised.

Fortunately, everyone has forgotten about your silly gaff the next morning, and you are quite confident it will go unremembered.

UNTIL....

Your boss comes into your office one day and says "Alice, you've got to take a look at this" and wanders back into the edit suite.

You are immediately suspicious.

Your co-workers smell the fear in the air and race into the edit suite.

You follow them in.

You glimpse the school bus, and, upon seeing a school bus and a rainy night, are horribly aware of what you’re about to see.

You run back to your office, shut the door and hide under your desk.

Hysterical laughter is heard from the edit suite.

(Did I mention you were wearing a skirt? Because you were.)

For the rest of the day, anytime any of your co-workers see you, they make a joke about either
a) being drunk on the job or
b) falling down on the stairs.

On the plus side, your legs look good in the shot.

Will you ever live this down? Only time will tell.

Adventures of the house hunt

Some of you may know that I've been on the lookout for a flat in London lately. Oh, that's right. I'm going to be a property owner. Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm going to own a tiny fraction of a flat and the parents and grandparents are going to own the majority of them. I'll be repaying a teensy tiny mortgage and paying them rent. Along with the person who will be renting the other room (hi Heather!).

So, I've been doing searches for properties, and figuring out what things cost and having a look. This will likely surprise many of you, but I'm looking at south London. That's right, Alice Never-ever-crosses-the-river-ever is going to move south. It's a wild and crazy time, I tell you. Wild and crazy.

I've seen quite a few flats, and I have to tell you - it's pretty depressing. I've learned quite a few things in my flat hunting time.

1. People have horrible taste. I would fashion avenge them, but it's far far far too depressing. One of the flats I looked at yesterday had orange velour curtains. In 2005. Floor length orange velour curtains. Sweet Jesus, why?

2. It turns out I'm very specific in what I'm looking for. Who knew I'd be so fussy? (Shut up.) It turns out that I'm quite particular and I want a garden. Not that I'm a gardener, mind you. I'm what's known as a "Plant Killer" in the horticultural sphere.

3. I have virtually no money. Which is even more depressing when you realize that I'm looking at spending what could buy you a three bedroom house in downtown Toronto. And I'm looking at two bedroom flats, the largest of which has been around 750 square feet. And I still have no money here.

4. Not getting a property is very distressing. It's like a personal insult - why didn't they want meeeeee to have it?

5. I'm going to put in an offer on another flat tomorrow. Hopefully that'll go a bit better.

I do like the flat hunting procedure though. Especially when the owners aren't home. You're supposed to snoop around to see how big closets are and how much storage space there is. It's not sneaky or anything! But you can feel a bit guilty about doing that when the owners are in, so I always recommend a non-supervised viewing.

And I like the planning - figuring out how much furniture will be required, and if the kitchen needs to be re-done, how much would it cost, and all that kind of thing. Delightful!

I'm hoping the offer tomorrow goes well. With any luck those orange velour curtains could be mine. Score!

It's Guttenberg-arrific!

Oh, there is SO much going on over at the Steve Guttenberg Project!

And the award goes to....

So, remember on the blogiversary when I had an anniversary quiz to celebrate the fabulous day?

And I was all "in a week or so, I'll announce the winners?"

Clearly, by "a week", I meant "a month".

Anyhoo, it's been a fabulous quiz, and you've all done very well.

It looked like it was going to be very close there for a while, what with two 90% scores.

But then, like a sneaky fox with a very good memory, a little someone I'll call Sarah K-K took the quiz. And what was her score? I think you'll find it was......

100%!

Now, that's impressive. Despite some harsh mailing-list allegations of cheating (Brad, I'm looking at you), I am certain that it was her fabulous memory that allowed her to achieve the highest quiz score.

Congratulations Sarah!

But what does she win, I hear you ask. Oh, it's pretty fantastic.

In a tribute to the good work being done by the Steve Guttenberg Project, I have put together a delightful Guttenberg related prize.

First, we have a lovely 8x10 photo of Steve Guttenberg and Jami Gertz in Don't Tell Her It's Me.

Lovely, is it not?

To accompany this photographic gem, we also have ....

Ta da! It's a PAL copy of Three Men & A Little Lady. Let's hope she has a multi-region VHS.

Now, not only do we have a prize for the winner, there is also a special award.

On his first quiz attempt, Tim got the slightly shameful score of 50%. Being the clever guy he is, he logged in again, called himself "Cheatin' Bastard", and took the quiz again.

What was his score?

90%. That's right. Even when he cheats, he can't get it right.

And so, to Tim goes the consolation "dude, that was lame" prize.

It's a PAL copy of Guttenberg classic Diner! Again, hope you're multi-region.

So, thanks to all of you who took the quiz, and congratulations again to Sarah & Tim. Happy blogiversary!

I can't believe I almost missed it again!

You'll probably recall how disappointed I was to miss last year's fabulous Talk Like A Pirate Day.

And to think! I almost missed it again!

Here it is, noon on a Sunday, and I'm watching the always entertaining Hollyoaks omnibus and I get a text message from Buni. What does it say?

"Just thought you would be thrilled to know that today is officially Talk Like A
Pirate Day."

I'd completely forgotten!

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY!

I hope that you all enjoy it. Do you think that the ticket person at the cinema will be confused when I ask for my ticket to Pride and Prejudice in pirate talk?

"Arrrrrr, me beauty. I'd like a ticket for yonder Pride and Prejudice, and get it smartly! Arrrrrrr."

Cloris Leachman was robbed!

In lieu of a real post, I give you a recent Cloris Leachman related conversation:

Aaron: How's work today?
Alice: Eh, it's okay. I'm doing Emmy™ research.
Alice: Do you have any idea how many Emmys™ Cloris Leachman has been nominated for? I've got a hand cramp now.
Aaron: I can only imagine.
Alice: Oddly, there seem to be no nominations for her time on "Facts of Life".
Alice: I can't imagine why.
Aaron: That's blasphemy.
Alice: I know! She was such a support to Tootie, Natalie, Blair and Jo after Mrs. Garret left. Who'd have thought that she wouldn't be rewarded for such stellar work?
Aaron: Goddamn Charlotte Rae stole all the friggin limelight.
Alice: I know. She's so selfish.
Alice: SHE was nominated for "The Facts of Life"
Aaron: Of course.
Alice: Didn't win though.
Aaron: Huh.
Alice: Carol Kane did for "Taxi"
Aaron: Whatever. She really only had to deal with Latka.
Alice: Ah, 1982. What a year for comedy.
[pause]
Alice: All five nominees for best supporting actor in a drama that year were from "Hill Street Blues"
Alice: Was it the only drama on tv?
Aaron: Someone at the Emmys™ thought it would be a funny joke.
Alice: Probably. Those wacky kids at the Emmys™ have such a sense of humour!
Aaron: Yeah, like saying nuts to Cloris Leachman for instance.
Alice: Well, she has had an impressive 19 nominations. Just none for "Facts of Life"
Aaron: Well, screw them anyway.
Alice: Hee hee! In 1987, "Facts of Life" was nominated for outstanding achievement in hairstlying for a series.
Aaron: How many awards do they give away?
Alice: Apparently a kazillion
Aaron: Obviously.
Aaron: Award for outstanding achievement in placing marks during blocking.
Alice: An example of 1987 "Facts of Life" hairstlying:

Aaron: Nice.
Alice: Indeed. What a dashing hairstyle!
Alice: Oh, scary!
Aaron: I hope to god Cloris doesn't see it.
Alice: I think she's selling it
Aaron: Think she's trying to drum up publicity for a Leachman resurgance?
Alice: Damn skippy.

Inspirational Words...

I recieved an email today from my lovely and delightful friend Heidi. It's subject line was "Friendship", and it seemed to be a forward.

I was about to think horrible things about her and delete it, when the insiprational first lines caught my eye. And I was deeply touched. To me, this is friendship. And so I thought I would share it with you.

Friend

Are you tired of all those sissy "friendship" poems that always sound good, but never actually come close to reality? Well, here is a series of promises that really speaks to true friendship:

1. When you are sad - I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.

2. When you are blue - I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.

3. When you smile - I will know you finally got laid.

4. When you are scared - I will rag on you about it every chance I get.

5. When you are worried - I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and to quit whining.

6. When you are confused - I will use little words.

7. When you are sick - Stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.

8. When you fall- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.

This is my oath...I pledge it till the end. Why, you may ask? Because you are my friend. Send this to 10 of your closest friends, then get depressed because you can only think of nine.

Remember: A good friend will help you move. A really good friend will help you move a body. Let me know if I ever need to bring a shovel.

Have more beautiful and true words ever been written?

Is it February already?

So, I'm on the tube today, as I am every day.

And as I'm waiting for my train, I'm reading the ads on the wall. As I do every day.

I got a little confused today though, when I saw this ad:

"Every kind of Valentine"?

Either this ad is 6 months too late or 6 months too early. Either way, I'm not ready for February yet.

It's August, people. Get with the program.

It's the special anniversary Quiz!

On the day of the Bloggiversary, I asked what y'all would like as a special birthday treat.

After serious debate, I have made my decision.

Loyal reader "some guy" suggested the following:

"My vote goes to some sort of contest, quiz or somesuch - with a cheezy prize. Maybe some Spongebob Squarepants stickers or something?"

I liked this idea. I liked it a lot. And so, I have created a special anniversary Quiz (with a capital Q) for y'all to take.

It'll show who's been paying attention over the last year.

I'll post the answer and the winner in a week or so. And will there be prizes, you ask?

Oh, there will be prizes. I can't promise Spongebob, but it'll be good. Trust me.

Fashion Avenger

Dear Skanky Girl I Saw In Holborn On Saturday Night,

Oh, sweet mother of god. That's it. You've done it. You've won the prize.

You are, without a doubt, the owner of the skankiest outfit I've ever seen. And that's saying an awful lot.

I'm trying to find the good points, so that I can give you a vague, halfhearted compliment before insulting you, but I can't. Okay, your t-shirt was fine. Plain white t-shirt. That's okay.

But the short shorts?

With knee high boots?

In August?

Are you kidding me?

Maybe you just saw "Dukes of Hazzard". Maybe you're all inspired by Jessica Simpson and decided that fake tanning yourself to a frightening orange hue wasn't the way forward for you. But the Daisy Dukes with knee high boots?

Are you a hooker?

If you are, then that's okay. I can see that working. Because it's skanky and hookers are supposed to be skanky. That's okay.

Dear lord, it was just awful. I'm very sad for you right now.

I don't even have words of advice. Just stop. That's all. Just stop.

Good luck,

Alice

Quote of the Day

From Clare:

"You're all sunshine, even when it's raining in your heart"

Have truer words ever been spoken?

It's Gutt-tastic!

Things are zipping right along at the Steve Guttenberg Project!

Happy Bloggiversary!

Well, who'd have thought?

Today is the one year anniversary of this blog. I certainly know that I, for one, am surprised. Not only that I've kept it up, but that people actually read it.

Hello there, friendly readers!

I've slipped a bit from the original intent of keeping y'all up to date with the daily happenings in my life, but I think it's worked out okay.

We've had fun, haven't we, friendly readers?

There's been laughter, tears, heartache and joy. Well, that's probably a bit of exaggeration. I'm fairly sure there's been no heartache. Or am I thinking of stomach ache?

I am 90% certain this blog has not made you, the friendly reader, get a stomach ache. Hives or some kind of rash, for sure. But not a stomach ache.

As a very special anniversary event, I will be taking requests for a very special anniversary blog entry. Not this very special anniversary blog entry. That wouldn't work, wouldn't it? Next time think before you speak!

So comment away, friendly readers! Whichever of the two of you friendly readers out there has the most amusing idea, that's what we'll go with.

Deal? Deal.

It's Jetlag-tastic!

I'm back!

I know. It's exciting, isn't it.

I'm jet lagged right now (hence the posting at 3am) and can't sleep. I'm too tired to write a detailed post of the past three weeks right now, but I'll give you the highlights.

Work is stressful. San Francisco is beautiful. Kasa Kobrinsky Kleinzahler is a delightful hotel, and I highly recommend it. Toronto is hot. Weddings are fun. Toronto is HOT. Being sick sucks. The Canadian dollar is my best friend. Too much flying is stressful. Jet lag sucks.

And that takes us up to date. It's a non-stop roller coaster of fun over here in Alice's life, isn't it?

Actual, real reason for not posting.

Kids, I'm going on a trip.

Not forever - I don't want you to panic. But I am going to be gone for about three weeks. I'll post if I can, but I don't want you to get your hopes up.

Have fun, and take care of yourselves.

They grow up so fast!

It had to happen sometime. They're adults now - I knew there was a time when they'd want to be out on their own.

I just didn't think it would happen so soon.

I'm leaving on Thursday for a work trip to the States, and then a delightfully pleasurable trip to the newly married Kobrinsky-Kleinzahler's in San Francisco, and then an equally delicious trip to Toronto for the wedding of Mandy & Jason. I'll be gone for just under three weeks.

And you know what that means.

I needed to find a fish-sitter. They're all grown up now, but not so good at the fending for themselves. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be able to feed themselves if I left them on their own.

Now, if the fishes could talk, they'd be all "God, she's always like that! It's like we're little kids or something! We can take care of ourselves!" And then, if they could walk, they'd storm up the stairs and slam their bedroom door.

Well, it's just too bad for them that they can neither walk nor talk. So that means fish-sitter city, kids.

The always lovely Heather agreed to watch them for me - she works from home so is ideally suited to the rigorous demands of fish keeping. They need to be fed once a day, people. That is hard work.

I dropped the fishes off at Heather's this evening, along with their supplies - food, water purifier stuff, fish net, fish water holder & fish cleaning sponge - and I think they look pretty happy in their new surroundings.

I felt a bit sad to leave them, though. It's funny how you can get so attached to nameless fishes. I'm sure I can trust Heather to take care of them. She's a geek, so she's going to make up a fish-feeding chart to ensure that they don't get overfed. I appreciate that kind of diligence. And she's also aware of the ass kicking that she will receive if anything happens to my fishes.

I'll miss the fishes. I hope they enjoy their holiday.

And I hope they don't pull that sulky teenager crap in front of Heather. It's so embarassing when they get like that!

Fashion Avenger

Dear People of London,

Hey, isn't this hot weather great? Remember last year, when it rained all summer? Didn't that suck? And isn't all this sun and hot weather nice?

I know there can be downsides to the weather though. It can be too hot to sleep at night. Offices don't have air conditioning and it can get all hot and sweaty at work. You can get sunburned if you're not careful in the sun.

The weather's still nice though, isn't it?

But you know what's not so nice?

Summer "fashions". People of London - why are you doing this to me? I know it's hot, and I know you're uncomfortable and sweaty and miserable.

I know all of this. I know this because I feel the same way. I get grumpy when I'm overheated, the same way you do.

But you know what I don't do? I don't wear hideous clothing designed to reveal as much of the human body as possible, and designed to singe the retinas of anyone who looks upon it.

I don't really understand what makes a sensible dresser give in to the impulse to wear unattractive skimpy clothing. Has the heat affected your sense of style? Did the high temperature kill off the part of your brain that registers good and bad taste?

And you know, it's not just the larger of you Londoners who is committing these fashion atrocities. It's not about size, people. It's about taste. And it's about not wanting to send you all home to change, because does your mother know you leave the house looking like that?

It's just that here's the thing. You don't need to be practically naked to stay cool in the heat. A nice roomy linen item of clothing is going to do the trick just as well.

Wear what you want in your own house. I mean, what I'm wearing right now isn't attractive, but I'm not making you look at it, am I? When you're out on the street, try to have some consideration for those around you. Don't make us look at that.

Come on, people of London. I know we can make this work if we try.

Good luck,

Alice

The mission is on full steam ahead

Things are going very well over at the Steve Guttenberg Project.

It's all extremely exciting!

London - 7 July 2005

I’ve been trying to find the way to put into words how it’s felt to live in London in the last few days.

The bombings were terrifying, obviously. It seems silly to even mention that. Of course it was terrifying.

I didn’t even realize until I’d arrived at work that something was wrong. The buses were busier than usual, and I knew that the tube was shut down, but that can, and does, happen from time to time for any number of reasons. There have been power cuts and surges before, so I really didn’t think anything of it.

The first indication I had that there was a problem was one person on the 31 bus from Camden to Kilburn who was saying that there had been a bomb on the tube. But no one was really listening to him – there’s always the one guy who sees the worst in any given situation and will find the conspiracy or doom and gloom and imagine the worst. We all just assumed he was that guy.

I got to work only 10 minutes late, and found the office empty, except for Chris who was just sanding by the radio. He was the one that told me what was happening. At that point, they were still saying “power surges”, but there had just been reports that a bus had blown up in Russell Square, so it was seeming less and less likely that the answer was anything as harmless as a power problem.

Buffy works in Russell Square, so my first thought was of her – I called her, and it took a few tries to get through. The mobile networks were already starting to get overloaded. She was fine – she’d just left the tube station and was walking towards her office, so she wasn’t in any danger. She asked if I’d heard from Clare, as her office is on Tavistock Place, where the explosion had occurred. Fortunately, Clare was home from work on Thursday. She was fine.

I tried to call the people I worked with, but wasn’t getting through. I’d heard from Jo and Julie, so I knew they were okay, but I hadn’t had any word from Kerrie or Brendan. I sent out an email to my friends around the city, just to check that they were okay. I wasn’t worried that something had happened to them, really. London is so big – what are the chances that whatever this was had affected people I care about?

It was at this point that there was a report from the Tube workers union that someone had seen an explosive device on the tracks. And that’s when we started to realize what had really happened. We really didn’t know what was going on – there were rumours that there had been anywhere between four and six explosions, and they’d all gone off within minutes of each other. It was pretty obvious that it had been a terrorist attack. No one was claiming responsibility, and there was no word on how many people had been injured or killed.

I started getting emails back from my friends, and more than I’d expected had been personally affected.

Marcus was kicked off at train at 9:15 because of "power surges" and walked to his office. After he arrived, a colleague turned up and said he’d cycled past a bust that had been blown apart.

Heather had a meeting in Marylebone that morning. If she hadn’t had that meeting, she would have been on the Piccadilly line near Kings Cross when the bombs went off.

Leanne was actually on the platform at Kings Cross, but thought it was too crowded and went to take a bus. When she got to the bus stop, the bomb went off in the tube.

Jamie was on his way to Kings Cross when the tube went down. He got out and took the 390 bus. After sitting in traffic for ages, he got out and wondered why there were so many ambulances and fire trucks everywhere. He then got a call from Clare who told him what had happened, and he walked home. If he’d left home 15 minutes earlier, he’d have been in Kings Cross when it happened.

Clare works 10 meters from where the bus exploded. She was home ill, but her boss had just arrived when the bomb went off.

Tim normally works on Brick Lane, but wasn’t on Thursday. If he had been, he’d have passed Liverpool Street & Aldgate on the way in.

Kerrie doesn’t normally take the Circle Line, but she missed her train at Blackheath Station, so took an alternate way in to the office. When she got on the Circle Line, she got onto the waiting train, but the jumped off to double check the route she was taking. She missed that train, and had to get the next one. The train she was on was behind the one that exploded at Edgware Road station. She was trapped underground for two hours, and had to walk out along the tracks. It took her hours to get home.

I didn’t get any work done on Thursday. I spent the whole day listening to the news on the radio, checking the BBC and Sky One and CNN news sites and emailing friends. When I tried to work, I couldn’t concentrate.

I felt shaky and scared and like I wanted to cry all day. Nothing happened to me, and while some of the people I loved had close calls, everyone was okay.

I was reading the first person accounts on the BBC website, and they kept making me tear up. A comment from a reader in Paris had me choked up:

Yesterday, we were annoyed with Londoners and English people. London won the games and Paris lost them. And today we wake up. We realise that these little fights between old friends are for spoilt children. We are all facing a huge challenge. We have all to fight terrorism. We are all Londoners today.

In the course of a week, London had three topics of conversation. Live 8 dominated the beginning of the week. The Olympics were all anyone could talk about on Wednesday. And on Thursday, the entire city was feeling the same feelings of shock and horror and fear. But there was a feeling of unity, and a feeling that this would not stop London from functioning. That we wouldn’t be stopped by this, and we wouldn’t live our lives in fear.

On Friday morning, I got on a bus, the same as I do every morning. And like I do every morning, I went to the top level and sat in the front seat. It crossed my mind that had I been on that seat in a bus in Russell Square on Thursday, I could have lost my life, but I didn’t myself think about that. I listened to the radio, and daydreamed, as I do every morning.

Jo and Julie took the tube into work, as they always do. Jo had a moment of panic as she stepped on a train, but she sat down and read on the tube, just as she does every morning.

Millions of other Londoners did the exact same thing – went about their lives the same way they do every day. It’s pretty inspiring.

I’m not saying that people will ever forget what happened. I can’t imagine that they will. And there certainly will be people who are too afraid to get on a tube, at least for a little while.

But life continues as it always has. We’re all just a little more aware how fragile life is, and how much we lucky we all are to have the people we love in our lives. I know I feel that way.

The mission continues

An update on the Steve Guttenberg Project? Fantastic!

Update again

It's official - terrorist attack.

I've heard from almost all of my close friends & all of my coworkers, so that's one less thing to worry about it.

It doesn't make it any less scary though. I can't focus on work today - I just keep checking Sky News & the BBC website for more information.

Update

It wasn't a power surge.

From the BBC at 11:23:

Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Ian Blair said there had been at least six
explosions, but said the picture was still "very confused".

I've tracked down one of the missing co-workers. Her fiance called to say she was okay, but she was in the train behind one of the ones with an explosion.

That's cutting a little too close to home.

There are reports on the radio saying that there are 20 confirmed dead, and at least 90 injured at Aldgate station.

There are no buses or tubes running in central London at all, and the army is present in Covent Garden.

I'm Okay

London is a scary place to be this morning.

You've probably heard that there were several explosions in London this morning - two on tube lines, and one on a bus.

It was reported to be "power surges" at first, but it now looks like it was bombs.

The mobile network isn't working, and I'm the only one that made it in to work.

I've spoken to two of the girls, but I still can't track down two of my other co-workers.

I'm okay though - now I just need to track down everyone that I love.

The Mission Finds A Home

Inspired by Heather, who was so beautifully inspired by the beautiful work of The Steve Guttenberg Project, the mission has found a home.

You can now keep up with the exciting news about the project, and the Gütt, at it's new home - The Steve Guttenberg Project. (There's a link on the left.)

Be the first to hear the exciting story of film 1 of 36!

The Gütt

Imagine, if you will. A charity shop in Archway on a sunny Friday in July.

I was browsing with Leanne and Heather, in an amusing attempt to find “Canadian” wear for their kick ass Canada Day party. While they were checking out the denim skirts and cropped white jean jackets (stylish!), I found a few hidden treasures in the video section.

A used VHS of Three Men & A Baby for a mere £3? Sold and sold!

While watching this delightful gem of film featuring irresponsible parenting, and lighthearted drug dealing, I came to a revelation.

I am a Steve Guttenberg fan.

Now you may be saying, “But, I don’t even remember Steve in that movie”.

Well, that’s just sad. Sure, Tom Selleck is the “sexy” one. (Of course, if you can consider high waisted shorts sexy, then you have issues – but I suppose one can make exceptions for 1987.) Ted Danson is the “carefree bachelor”. But it’s Steve Guttenberg’s warm portrayal of Michael that really sells the film for me. Not every actor could make a thirty-something cartoonist, who has stuffed animals in his bedroom, and lives with two men in their thirties seem straight, but that’s just the kind of range that Mr. Guttenberg has.

So inspired was I by his moving performance, that I’ve decided to begin a mission. I am going to attempt to collect the complete works of Steve Guttenberg.

Now, the Gütt, as I like to call him, has an impressive body of work. In the past 28 years, he’s starred in no less than 43 film and television projects. And, as an aside, do we really think it's a conicidence that he began his career in the year I was born? I think not.

However, if we lose television shows and movies (although that does mean losing the delightful sounding “Miracle on Ice”), that still leaves us with an imposing 36 films.

This list may scare some people off, though. It’s not the most prestigious list of films I’ve ever seen. There’s really only one movie that could be considered “good” by a wide selection of the general public.

There are no less than four Police Academy movies. Three of his films have had sequels that he’s starred in. (He wisely turned down Short Circuit 2.) He’s costarred with a robot, an animated ghost, the Village People, and the Olsen Twins. He’s co-starred with two of the Cheers Cast – the ones that went on to make more sitcoms, not respected movies.

But does that frighten me? Do I fear owning these movies?

No, I do not. I relish the challenge, and look forward to the day I can sit down to a double bill of Amazon Women On The Moon and The Chicken Chronicles.

In aid of this lofty goal, I have begun a “Steve Guttenberg Project” wishlist (which can be seen to your left) on Amazon. Sadly, not all Guttenberg items are available in the UK, so I was forced to add a US wish list as well. If you’d like to help achieve the goal, please feel free. All generous Guttenberg gift givers will be publicly thanked, and invited to a Guttenberg marathon when the mission is complete.

The Gütt appreciates your support.

Helping the world, one survey at a time

Jealous? You should be.

And you should be a statistic too.

So. Freaking. Hot.

Today in London it was 33° Celsius. That’s 91° Fahrenheit for all you American types out there. It’s 9pm now, and it’s still 28°.

And that, my friends, is too freaking hot. Now, of course, I’d be all used to that kind of heat if I lived in Australia or California or even Toronto. But if I lived in those places I would probably have air conditioning.

I would sell my soul right now for air conditioning.

Seriously.

It’s too hot to be inside, because of the previously mentioned lack of air conditioning. It’s too hot to be outside, because of the scorching sun. I was sitting on the flat roof outside my window for about half an hour, and realized two things.

First that it was too hot for that kind of madness. And second that if I stayed out for any longer I would be the colour of … well, something that’s really red, despite my liberal coating of sunscreen. I’m just too pale for that kind of madness.

Add to that the fact that I was hungover, and the fan that I ever so cleverly bought a few weeks ago is too freaking small to do anything useful and the fact that I am currently trying to be on a budget and not do things like go to air-conditioned movie theatres, and what you have is an irritable and slightly sweaty Alice.

What does that leave me to do? Complain.

I want to have a garden, like Buffy’s delightful garden in which we barbequed yesterday afternoon. Or a garden like Nathan’s, in which we drank and made merry at his birthday party last night (please see the aforementioned hangover). Or a roof terrace like Clare’s, on which there were many delightful barbeques last year and many to come this year. Or a huge balcony/terrace thing like Heather’s, on which there is actually room for furniture and you can access it using a door rather than climbing out of a window, which is not very graceful and fabulous. Especially when you have to try to be careful to not knock over the fishes.

Did I mention that I’m irritable? Extreme heat does that to me.

I know that heat is relative, and if I was back in Toronto then I’d be all “ooh, it’s a bit warm today, isn’t it?”, rather than moaning about the heat.

Of course, in Toronto right now it’s 22°.

And, in Toronto, I lived in an air-conditioned condo, drove an air-conditioned car and worked in an air-conditioned office.

Like I said – irritable. And don’t even get me started on the conflicted weather reports for tomorrow. It’s either going to be sunny and again freakishly hot, or all thunderstormy. How is a girl to make sensible footwear decisions?

Did I mention? Too freaking hot.

The Birds

I had a very scary experience the other day. I'm really lucky tha I managed to survive. I could be writing this from beyond the grave, if not for my quick thinking.

It was a warm Sunday, and I had my window open. Now, it's quite a large window, which is lovely. I look out onto a flat roof and if my fish weren't in the way, it would be very easy for me to climb out and enjoy the roof.

Or, very easy for someone to climb in. You know, to steal my furniture or tv or fish. Fishnappers can be such trouble.

Now, don't worry. I wasn't accosted by strange men climbing in my window. I was not murdered by crazed daytime thieves. That's a huge relief, I'm sure.

I was across the room when I heard a vague fluttering sound. "Well, that's odd", I thought. I went and looked and what did I see?

Pigeons.

But not just one pigeon. Not even two pigeons, out on a nice Sunday afternoon date. This was a horde of pigeons. Or whatever the word is for a group of pigeons. They looked like a horde to me. A marauding horde.

There were dozens of them. Well, maybe a dozen. But that is a lot of pigeons. And they kept settling in one area, and then leaping into the air and flying around all crazy like.

This is probably when I should let you know that I'm a little afraid of pigeons.

But look how close they were!



They could have easily flown in and pecked me to death - that totally could have happened!

I did the wise thing and closed the window. I probably could have chased them away by throwing things at them or yelling, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

I've seen The Birds. I know what the horde is capapble of.

Just a couple of things...

Things have been crazy stressful at work, and I've been a bit on the ill side. And those would be the reasons that I haven't posted lately.

Since I feel like we're losing touch. (How are you? No, really. We must catch up.), I thought I'd update you on the things that have been on my mind lately.

• This is the cutest freaking thing I've ever seen. I want to have a pet penguin. Can they live in a studio flat? If not, I'll have to settle for seeing the film.
• I am finding it very hard to find the perfect pair of summer footwear. I want a flip flop that isn't plastic, doesn't have a lot of crap on the top of the foot area, and doesn't cost a fortune. Too much to ask? Apparently. If I have to go a differnt route, then I might have to go with these, or maybe these. Adorable, no?
• I am confused by vitamins. I know I should take them, because I don't always eat as well as I should, but it's so complicated. Is a multi-vitamin enough? Should I add calcium? And vitamin C? And E? What else?
• And why do British people say VIT-amin, rather than VI-tamin? What's up with that?
• Being ill sucks. Especially when you feel too guilty to take time off work, even when you know you should because it'll be the best in the long run. So, instead of recovering at home, you're totally unproductive at work. Good times.
• Back on the shoe front, how cute are these? Oooh, and these! Man, I need a massive pay rise so I can go shoe shopping.
• I cannot wait for a new series of Sweet Valley High books. I would so buy those books. The drama of a gated southern California community plus the wacky and unpredictable antics of the Wakefield twins? I'm in!
• I love broadband. I really love it. It's a delight. I've downloaded (not that I download things illegally, cause I totally don't, I don't know what you're talking about, hey look at that bird over there!) about seven hundred songs in the past few days. The internet is a magical place. And Canadian music rocks.
• I've been a teensy bit homesick lately. I don't know what's up with that. I guess it's because for the first time in my entire life, my entire family is living in the same city. I should visit. Stupid expensive flights to Canada and lack of money. What a pain in the ass.

And that's what's been on my mind lately. How's things with you.

Grossatating

Something has come to my attention lately, and it’s a bit disturbing. Actually, it’s more than disturbing. It’s gross. And it is literally happening all around all of us all the time.

Imagine this scenario, if you will. You’re at a party, or a gathering of some type. You pick up a tasty snack from the food table. It may be a chicken skewer or a tortilla chip or a carrot stick. You dip your skewer or chip or stick into the dip that has been kindly been placed beside the delicious snack. You take a bite. And then what do you do?

Do you finish the skewer or chip or stick? Or do you reach for the dip again?

If you just said “reach for the dip”, then you are tragically lacking in social niceties and I don’t think I can be your friend.

Cause see, here’s the thing. It’s gross. Would you stick your entire hand into the bowl and then pass it on to someone else? Would you lick the bowl? Would you drop a used Kleenex into the dip? Would you spit into the dip?

Well, if you double dip, then you may as well do all of those things. And, I’m sorry, but you are gross.

Double dipping is just plain wrong. It squicks me out just even thinking about it.

I just do not want to share germs with total strangers. I want to dip my skewer or chip or stick without worrying that I’m going to catch your cold, or your rabies, or your glandular fever/mononucleosis, or your yellow fever, or your malaria, or your bronchitis, or your herpes simplex, or your legionnaires disease, or whatever it is you may be passing to innocent people trying to make their skewer or chip or stick more delicious.

And, I know what you’re going to say. Of course there are exceptions. It’s obviously fine to double dip on your own, and it’s fine to double dip amongst friends. If it’s someone who you would share spit with on a regular basis, then the regular dip rules don’t apply. If you're with them then feel free to double or even triple dip that skewer or chip or stick.

But public dip rules are different. You do not double dip. If you simply must have more dip on that skewer or chip or stick then turn it over and use the non germ side.

Because, seriously. Ew.

People, you’re grossing me out. I don’t want to have to go into this again.

Peppermint Tea

I was in Sainsbury’s this evening, purchasing myself some dinner-type items, and I saw something alarming.

No, it wasn't the man who walks around by the cash registers chanting loudly – I’m used to him. And this particular Sainsbury’s is in Camden, so the punks and goths and other "peoples of interesting attire" are pretty standard.

What could be considered somewhat less than standard were the purchases of the man behind me in the queue. As I stood waiting for disorganised woman infront of me struggling to pay and put her shopping in bags at the same time, I couldn’t help but check out the items about to be purchased by the man behind me as he put them on the converyor belt thingy.

There were three bags of dog food, which isn’t strange. Maybe he has three dogs and they don’t like to share. And as he put his box of peppermint tea bags on the belt thingy, I thought to myself “mmm, peppermint tea. I should get some of that, now that I’m no longer afraid of herbal teas”. And then he put a second box on, and I thought to myself “I bet there’s a special. How annoying that I didn’t pick up some for myself”.

And then he added a third box. And a fourth. And a fifth. And that is when I began to think “man, that’s a freaking lot of peppermint tea”. And then he added a sixth box. And then seventh and eighth.

That, my friend, is a lot of tea. Now, I do understand the need to stock up on something when it's a good deal. I'd do it myself if I had any storage space whatsoever.

Now, each box has 40 tea bags. That means that this man was going to make 320 cups of peppermint tea.

Why so much tea? Is he an addict? Does he have a weird fetish? Is he under the impression that they are going to stop making peppermint tea? Because I’m pretty sure they’re not. Is he going to a tea party? A massively huge tea party with hundreds and hundreds of guests? What is the deal with this? Is he sending the tea to a person living in a country that has outlawed peppermint tea? Is he a herbal tea smuggler?

My lingering thought was that he was going to attempt an overdose, and I was more concerned than anything else. I really didn’t want to have this man’s peppermint tea suicide attempt on my conscience, so I did a bit of research when I got home.

A very handy website about health and wellness and what have you had the answer:

Overdosage
Although there are no cases of Peppermint overdose on record, pure menthol can be fatal in doses of as little as 2 grams, although individuals have survived dosages as high as 8 to 9 grams (about 2 teaspoonfuls). If you suspect an overdose, seek medical attention immediately.

Well, that’s a relief. But still, what’s the deal with all the tea?

Truly, this is one of the great mysteries of our time.

Fashion Avenger

Dear Woman Sarah & I Saw In The Pub Last Weekend,

Look, we’ve all been there. The unexpected arrival of gorgeous spring weather takes you by surprise, and you’re forced to trawl through last year’s spring and summer wardrobe for something that is both weather appropriate and cute.

But, the thing is, when most people do this, it’s the wardrobe from last year that they’re looking at. Not their wardrobe from 1734. Because that’s where you seem to have pulled this ... interesting ... number from.

Over a frosty cool Sunday beverage, Sarah and I had a bit of a discussion on the look you were aiming for. Sarah’s first thought was Ophelia, while I was leaning more towards Anne of Green Gables’ version of “The Lady of Shalott”. Normally you wouldn't have elicited such discussion, but a floor length, white, high-necked, long-sleeved, lacy cotton dress is not the kind of thing you expect to see in a pub on a Sunday afternoon.

Sarah finally hit on the best description for your look, though, when she came up with Miss Havisham. Or, to be slightly more accurate, Miss Havisham’s slightly more deranged bridesmaid.

You were probably just thinking that the dress was nice and breezy. Hell, maybe you were even thinking that it looks nice.

But do you really want strangers in a pub having lengthy discussions about which fictional character you are? Especially when those fictional characters are insane? Probably not.

The whole pseudo-Victorian thing is so not a good look for you, honey. Trust me.

Better luck next time,

Alice

Lame? Me? Surely you jest!

I know. I haven't updated since April 27th. That's three weeks.

And that? Is lame.

But there is a good reason for that. There really is. If by "good" you mean "slightly lazy".

You see, for the past four and a half months I haven't had internet accesss at home. It's a very long and drawn out story and it's quite painful to remember. To avoid the tears and recrimination, let's just say that Telewest owes me a full day of my life back and I hate them. And don't even get me started on NTL. But until today (joy!) I've been access-less at home.

What does this mean? It means that I do most of my blogging at work. Which is all well and good, as long as they don't realize I'm doing most of my blogging at work. The plan had been working well. Or it was working well, until about three weeks ago.

What happened three weeks ago? We moved offices. Now, I'm sure you're picturing me in my own private corner office on the 30th floor of a skyscraper with my personal assistant Juan getting me fresh coffee and pastries whenever I want them.

I love that picture, but sadly it is somewhat less than accurate.

This was the setup of my old office:



Ideal for the worktime blogging. As you can see, my monitor is not exposed to the the general public. Should someone enter through the office door, there's plenty of time to alt-tab into a spreadsheet and look all business-like.

But we're not there anymore. We're in our not-so-glam, but still fab offices. And they're great. They're much larger, which is super. (The size of the above office really isn't exaggerated at all.)

But now, the office looks like this:



It's great - bigger, more people, much laughter and fun. But, less ability to write blog entries when pretending to work. Because a budget in a spreadsheet looks a bit different to the blogger webpage. Weird, no? And it turns out, they kind of expect me to do "work" when I'm actually at work. I know. It's so odd.

So, that's my lame reason. No internet access at home + work office being less blog friendly = no blog entries. (But fact: excuses are always better if you have diagrams.)

I'm sorry. I'll try to not let it happen again.

And thanks to Aaron and Kobrinsky for yelling at me. Dudes, I know. Lame!

Oh, Broadband!

Broadband
To the tune of "Mandy"
Lyrics by Alice, Original lyrics & music by Barry Manilow

Oh Broadband,
Well, you came and you are so amazing,
And I think that you’re great.
Oh, Broadband
Well, now I can read my emails,
And update my blog.
Oh, Broadband!

Oh Broadband
Well, you came and you stopped my from moaning,
And you’re here to stay.
Oh, Broadband
Well, you’re here and you are so amazing,
And you’ll never leave.
oh, Broadband!

Converted on the Northern Line

You know what I love about London? I love how you can be on your way home from an impromptu weeknight drinking session, and someone on the tube tries to convert you.

Okay, that’s not something that happens often or anything like that and it’s not really specifically London-related, but it did happen last night.

I was on the tube with my good friend Mrs. D chatting drunkenly (and therefore loudly) when the guy sitting next to me turned around and asked me where I was from.

(That’s not as creepy as it sounds – I get asked that a few times a week. Apparently my delightful accent makes people want to talk to me. And oh, it’s delightful.)

So, I say Canada, because it’s true, and he then asks me if I’ve accepted Jesus Christ as my personal saviour. You know, as you do.

Now, clearly, I should have given him the patented “Bitch Stare” and continued talking to Mrs. D. Or, I could have said “yes, I’m totally down with the big JC” and turned away. But I think those of you who know me will know better than that.

Did ignore him?

Oh no.

I obviously say “why, no”, giving him the perfect opportunity to enlighten me on all that I’m missing. Turns out he’s from Florida, and he’s moved to England to be with others of his kind, or something like that. ‘Cause there certainly aren’t any evangelical Christians in Florida. But anyway, in this informal missionary capacity, he apparently likes to chat to people on the tube about the Lord. He didn’t give us his name, so I’ll just have to call him The Believer.

The Believer probably though that we were in need of religion, as we were totally drunk on a Tuesday night, and figured that we’d be easy converts. What with the drunk. But, while I certainly can be talked into almost anything when I’m drunk, changing my personal philosophical and religious beliefs at the suggestion from a stranger isn’t quite so easy.

But I was the least of his worries. I may have been a drunken yet entertained agnostic, but he had a drunken theology-schooled atheist to deal with. And she was far tougher than me.

In the trip between Tottenham Court Road and Tufnell Park we covered whether the Bible is historically accurate, the true nature of faith, general spirituality, the original language in which the Bible was written (to which The Believer's companion kept saying "I am German") and when said writing occured. Mrs D also informed him that "one must always know thoroughly what one means to surmount", which I think just confused him. Too many big words.

It was all very enlightening, and highly entertaining.

Needless to say, the attempted convert failed, we're still hellbound and beyond saving. I'm cool with remaining firmly on the “going to hell” list. But really, all the cool people are going to be down there.

It’ll be a way better party.

Book time!

I have a fabulous and delightful friend who is considering moving to London for a bit. While she will right now remain nameless, due to the fact that this information could accidentally get to her boss and get me in trouble, I think she needs some reading material to help her get prepped for London life.

Any suggestions?

And, don't say Bridget Jones.

Bacon, anyone?

These may be the most awesome things I have ever seen. Gross, yet fabulous. Is there any better combination?

Man, you can always find the coolest stuff at Pop Culture Junkmail.

Anyone want to buy me some?

Things I think about when I’m ill...

What are collard greens? Are they greens that have been prepared in a collard manner? Are they a type of green? Could you have collard carrots?

Thankfully, then internet is there to help me out.

“Collards, also called collard greens, are vegetables that are members of the cabbage family. Because of this, they have a taste that is similar to cabbage and kale. Although collards are related to cabbage, they are also closely associated with the following vegetable types: broccoli, Brussels sprouts and cauliflower. Collards are grown in the southern United States, for example, in Mississippi, and in Europe. An example of a European country that uses collards quite often in their cooking is Portugal. Popular uses for collards throughout the world are to steam, boil, and microwave the vegetable or, to add it to soups and stews. While you can also add collards to cold salads, the collards should be cooked first prior to using them in a salad.”

And there you go. No, you could not have collard carrots. Unless you invented a new type of carrot and named it after yourself and your name was Jim Collard. Then you could have collard carrots. But it wouldn’t be the same.

Isn’t the internet a wonderful thing?

(If you’d like to know how to make “Awesome Collard Greens”, then I recommend you go here. They’re awesome!)

Fashion Avenger

Dear Lady I Stood Behind On The Escalator At Angel Station,

Sweet mother of god.

Do you hate me? Are you out to get me? Are you just angry at the world? Do you not own a mirror? Are you on a mission to alienate the whole world? Do you not feel a little breezy?

Because here’s the thing. You have a massive hole in your jeans. Actually, that’s not true. You have several massive holes in your jeans. Normally, I would not have a problem with this. You’re entitled to wear ripped jeans. I find it refreshingly casual. It’s clearly your look, and you’re making it work.

Or so I thought. I thought you were making it work until I was standing directly behind you on the escalator at Angel tube station. As you well know, the escalator at Angel is a very long, steep, scary one. And normally, I would be reading the adverts along the wall, and trying not to think about how easily I could plummet to my death if even one person faltered and sent us on a domino-like descent. But what was I thinking about on this particular escalator journey?

Your ass.

And why was I thinking about your ass? Because it was right in my face.

Here’s a tip for you. If you wear jeans with a massive hole in the ass, you might want to think about wearing underwear.

Sweet mother of god.

I did not need to know that much about you. I really didn’t.

Seriously. M&S. Just think about it.

Best wishes,

Alice

Stupid Catchy Songs....

So, I'm sitting at my desk on my lunch break reading a very insightful look into the use of steroids in baseball, and what gets stuck in my head?

Oh, that's right. The same song that gets stuck in my head almost every time I hear a baseball reference.

Well Mr. Burns had done it,
The power plant had won it,
With Roger Clemens clucking all the while,
Mike Scioscia's tragic illness made us smile,
While Wade Boggs lay unconscious on the barroom tile...

We're talkin' softball...
From Maine to San Diego.
Talkin' softball...
Mattingly and Canseco.
Ken Griffey's grotesquely swollen jaw.
Steve Sax and his run-in with the law.
We're talkin' Homer...

Ozzie and the Straw.

We're talkin' softball...
From Maine to San Diego.
Talkin' softball...
Mattingly and Canseco.
Ken Griffey's grotesquely swollen jaw.
Steve Sax and his run-in with the law.
We're talkin' Homer...
Ozzie and the Straw.

Do you know when that episode aired?

20 February, 1992.

That means that that song has been in my head for about thirteen years.

Scary, no?

Fashion Avenger

Dear Lady I Saw On Tottenham Court Road On A Lovely Spring Day,

Oh no. Oh, sweetie. Honey. Darling. Angel. Petal. No. No, no, no, no, no. Just no.

I have to let you know. I winced when I saw you on the street. And you just do not want to be making random strangers wince when they see you. You really don’t.

I think I see what you were aiming for here. You were thinking “Gosh, it’s a lovely spring like day! I think I’ll wear a mini skirt!” And I like that thinking. It’s sassy and springlike. You know what is not sassy and springlike? The horrible mistake just south of your lovely mini skirt.

Your fun green and white striped shirt and khaki skirt combo was quite delightful, and while not quite my personal style, it was a nice look. Preppy, yet cute. Your opaque tights, however? No. Especially not in green. Green. Opaque. Tights. Oooooooh, no. I just don’t think so.

Actually, I take that back. You could have made that work. I think that if you’d gone with a simple and neutral ballet flat or kicky kitten heel it could have been a creative look. But oh, no. You had to be “wacky”, didn’t you? You had to be “outrageous” and “fun”. And so what did you team with your green striped shirt and green tights? Oh, that’s right. Green trainers**. And you know what that is? Too. Much. Green.

I assume that you are not a Crazy All One Colour Lady. Because I could get behind that lady. She’s crazy! And she has a mission! She only wears blue! Or purple! She’s super fun and I support her enthusiasm. Sadly, you are not that lady. You are a lady who thought “hey, it’s all green! That must mean it matches, yes?”

And that is where you made your tragic mistake. Because “green” is not that easy. There are what we call “shades” of colours. And they don’t necessarily go with each other. For example, a purpley-blue does not necessarily match a greeny-blue.

I know this seems complicated. But just trust me. There can be too much of a good thing.

Just try and tone down the all-one-colour, okay? Because if I see this on the street again, I’ll have to give you the dreaded double wince. And do you really want that?I thought not.

Best of luck,

Alice

** As I now live in the UK, I will be using the British “trainer” rather than the North American “sneaker”. Please don’t be confused.

The Wedding

On Saturday, two of my most delightful friends got married. I was lucky enough to be a part of their wedding, and a part of their fantastic and magical day.

They’re both so awesome (in fact, they’re both founding members of the League of Awesome) and they’re such a great couple and they love each other so much and it speaks so highly of them both that so many fabulous people gathered together to celebrate their wedding.

I’ve been trying to write something that captures how truly fantastic the entire day was, but I’ve been struggling. Words don’t seem to truly sum up the day. I’d act it out for you in interpretive dance, but sadly that doesn’t work over the internet.

The answer has come to me, though. Two words: Photo. Essay.

Sadly, I took very few photos myself, but I am on a mission. If you have any photos, email them to me. Especially if I look super cute in them.

So, stay tuned and I promise that I’ll get back to y’all soon.

And Clare & Jamie? Guys, that was like one of the best weddings ever.