Pynchon

It's funny. I no longer feel guilty about not blogging every day. Sometimes living a life actually gets in the way. Not that I am pigeonholing people who are able to blog every day as being the kind of people who have no life. Obviously, it does not work like that. Blogging can be a very important part of your life.

(A reminder. "Hogfather" is on at 8pm. Get on with it John.)

Er... OK. I will.

It's been a busy couple of days.

This afternoon I saw the remake of "Black Christmas".



I have never seen the original "Black Christmas", so I have no idea if the remake compares favorably to the original or not, but I did enjoy it for what it is. Gory, nasty, explotative fun. It is stupid beyond belief ("The killer's in the attic - let's go and have a look!") and the plotting is lazy (the electricity is cut to the house and a girl still manages to have a power shower - nice arse shot, though, which I suppose was the whole point of the sequence), but the girls are pretty and bouncy and director Glen Morgan has fun pointing out lots of lovely sharp objects before they are plunged in nubile, female flesh. (By the way, a guy also gets killed nastily. Equality, and all that.) There is also a whole thing about eyes...

It's very short (84 minutes) so you won't waste too much of your life if you go to see it. It's not a classic, because it has all been done before, but it filled an afternoon.

Cinema Arsehole was at the cinema. Two groups of pre-teen kids shouting at each other and commenting loudly. They carried on through the adverts and the trailer and then the start of the film. They upset the wrong person. A big, black guy stood up and asked them if they thought they were "Gangsta's" and if they would like their popcorn "shoved up their ass". They didn't. They quietened down. The big, black guy was a frightening dude. He frightened me, and the lady sitting behind me, who said to her partner, "There's gonna be trouble" and made a swift exit to get somebody from the cinema staff. But, there was no trouble. They were as quiet as lambs, and when the film finished, sprinted from the cinema in case the big, black guy decided to come after them.

Just desserts. Good on big, black guy.

This morning I spent in the garden, sweeping leaves and cutting back plants. My arms are cut to ribbons. We have some very prickly and large plants. I look like I have defended myself against ninja assassins with my bare forearms. At least that is the story I will be telling my Nephew next Saturday, assuming that my arms have not healed up too much.

Last night Leona won "The X-Factor". The right person did win, no doubt about that, but although Leona has definitely got a pair of lungs, she has got no personality. Her voice ranges from whisper to foghorn with nothing in-between. I really don't know what they are going to do with her. She hasn't got the fun of Christina Aguilera, the tits of Mariah Carey, the strangeness of Celine Dion or the power of (old) Whitney Houston, yet those were the people that she is being compared against.

Yesterday afternoon Lorraine and I went into town. Lorraine insisted because she was bored with staying in the house. Bad mistake. She got tired very quickly and we had to go home. She then spent the rest of the evening coughing her guts up before she went to bed. I think she will still be off work tomorrow. Her Doctor's note runs out on Tuesday. She may have to go back and get another one. I am amazed that I have not caught anything off her.

Friday night I went to the Company Christmas Party. As these things go, it was quite good, but drastically scaled down compared to other years. It is a reflection of the redundancies and the fact that a fair chunk of the Development is now performed by the Indian office. None of the Indian programmers attended. Bit far to come, I suppose.

Still, there were 100+ people there, and there was the traditional competition by the girls to be the one wearing the outfit that exposed the most flesh. The winner was Lucy Toad. She was wearing a deep cleavaged Cat Woman stylee leather top. My friend Danielle (nice girl), who was sharing a hotel room with her, told me that the outfit was being held together by safety pins because Lucy kept "busting out of it".

Lucy Toad is an interesting girl. I don't like her much. If you were to lookup the dictionary definition of idle, you would get a picture of Lucy Toad. Lucy is... ahem... loose with her affections. A couple of years ago, at one of the previous Christmas Party's, she gave her then boyfriend a blowjob in a cubicle in the men's toilets. I know this for a fact. I was having a piss at the time in another cubicle. She did the same at a Company party last year. Same sketch, different boyfriend. Her current boyfriend is spending money on her hand over fist. As soon as the money is gone, so will she. I know her. I wouldn't stick yours in her.

Maybe I'm jealous. Promiscurity is never something that has ever been an option. To be promiscuous, don't you have to be attractive to the opposite sex? I'm not even attractive to Lorraine.

Poor sad me...

Bit of a rubbish post. I will do better tomorrow.