Showing posts with label OITNB. Show all posts
Showing posts with label OITNB. Show all posts

Monday, 29 August 2016

Sunday Summary Bank Holiday Monday Missive | Don't you ever say I just walked away ...

Dear FOQ

Hope you're all enjoying the long weekend! Last bank holiday 'til Christmas! Now that's a thoroughly cheery thought, said nobody ever. Egads.

Me, I've spent my time wisely. Dusting stuff. Sorting stuff. Shopping for house-dusting-and-sorting stuff.

Sweating a lot.

Nice.

Whoever said the single life is one to be coveted with all its excitement and shenanigans never spent a weekend with moi ... Earlier I popped to Sainsbury's and had to demand to be allowed to stay in a queue that led to an Actual Person rather than a Self-Service machine, such was my craving for human interaction.

I bonded with the cashier over a shared love of Yorkies.

True story.

That said ...
{Sucks to be me.}

---

This fortnight, I have mostly been ...

Reading


Wowza.

Quick summary: Bored, neglected teenager gets caught up in a cult.

The structure of the story itself is slightly flawed (too much given away too soon in flashback), but – with the exception of the repetition of a few key expressions (she does like a 'phantom [insert interchangeable noun here]', I will say) – I cannot fault Cline's storytelling ability and her tricksy use of language. She, and Megan Abbott, just get the awkwardness of teenage life.

I'm deliciously uncomfortable reading this one.

Finishing

at last, after starting it, what, three years ago?!

However,

While I love Fitzgerald, and The Great Gatsby, I never want to read another Pat Hobby short story.

{Just for you, Norgstar – your ol' pal!}

FSF, you really plumbed the depths there. You little sell-out.

Watching

OITNB, always ...

Let's just have a moment for adorable little Lorna Morello and her abundance of tact:


Taggart, from The Nineties (because I'm Hella Old):


Ep: 'Double Exposure'. Featuring Meera Syal, and Jason Isaacs. Who apparently was in Harry Potter. I wouldn't know; I just report what IMDB tells me ...

Blue Water High

Because 30-degree heat during the day calls for ... DVDs of Australian kids' dramas about surfing in the evening.

Natch.

Also, if there's someone from Flying Doctors in anything, you'll bet I'll still watch it. #backwardsteenforlife

Scream

... because in the 1990s the Scream series was the pinnacle of franchised horror.

(And it got Courteney and David together and that was cute for a while.)


Now it's just ... a horror. Bad acting. Cringe-worthy self-consciousness and self-referential... ness.

{Oh, it so is ...}
Oh, that hilarious joke based on a girl in the video shop looking for the horror movie that starred E.T.'s mum ... when Drew Barrymore was the first victim of the film. Hilarious, I tell thee.

Or, not.

Less Scream. More Yawn.

Channelling my inner 20-something


... by socialising with this lovely lot, my work posse (plus workmate Chloe's boyfriend).

{For the uninitiated: l–r, Dan, Chloe, Holly, Emily & Megan}

We started off at The Barn, where we were easily enticed by cocktails and Curly Fry Friday (show that you've checked in at The Barn on Facebook or Twitter, and get a free bowl of curly fries – can I get a whoop whoop?!); then, when the desire need for harder carbs became too great, off we pootled tottered to the Opera House. (Or,  yes, Wetherspoons, not to give it too many airs or graces.)

I'm still trying not to fixate on the fact that had I Got Busy when I was 16 (instead of, y'know, binge-watching my Flying Doctors videos, listening to this righteous dude, and wishing I were just a little bit more like Rizzo or Marty from Grease):


I could technically have a child the same age as Emily and Holly.

But then when I was their age, this was my work-social life:

{Tequila slammers. Ohhhhh, the memories. Which I've lost because, tequila.
I'm in the middle there in pink, in an Ali and Adam slammer sandwich.
... Wait, that sounds all wrong.}
so ... I'm still twenty-something in spirit.



Channelling my inner Beyoncé

... with mixed results.

Less this Beyoncé:


more this ...

with ropey vocals that would entice absolutely nobody to Liiiiisten ...

The context? A lil' impromptu Song Club last Saturday night, a chez Jocelyne, with Jos (of course), Ferny, Steve, Paul, Finn, Amber and Keira (oh and possibly a Pikachu) in residence.




It'd been too long and that microphone fit far too easily into my hand after much, much Bucks Fizz (oopsy). But it was lovely to see this contingent of Lovelies again, and thank you, Jos, for allowing me to work out some train-related frustration with all the (c)rap:


and all the bad, bad song choices I could think of.

*cough* Wrecking Ball *cough*

It's a very hard song to sing, I'll have you know.

Pretty sure my Kelis was on point though, with this little love song to an institution I like to call ... Southern Rail:


(And no, Jos, don't worry, I'm not really that angry, I'm grrrrr-y. In a good way. ;-))

Boot Sale Trawling

On Sunday morning (when I know I probably should have been ... elsewhere), I took myself over to Dorking for a mooch around the renowned weekly boot sale. Not sure what I was looking for but in all honesty, it was a little bit disappointing. Last time I went, with Norgstar some years back, I came away with some brilliant prints, and an iconic Polaroid Land camera. Which didn't work but makes a very nice shelf knickknack.

This time, it was like somebody had picked up the grotty parts of a local street market (discounted biscuits and washing up liquid), and dumped them there.

Disappointing.

That said, I still managed to come away with a decent haul from two of the stalls.

Look upon, and marvel over, these additions to my record collection and my book shelves (I'm collecting vintage Ladybirds ...):



All for the total princely sum of ... £6.20. Bargain.

Pinterest Pins of the Fortnight

One verbal ♦ one visual
{via here}
{source | Cat & Rabbit on Flickr}

Fortnightly Web Finds

Serious


Silly
  • How to use the London Underground | @TechnicallyRon on Like to Discover | via Overheard at Waitrose on FB
{via here}
  • Lousy book covers | via here | In case you've ever wondered why I'm so snobbish about self-publishing ... this is one such reason:
{Double shame whammy for using ...
COMIC SANS}
  • Thanks again to Jill for sharing this; it's brilliant. Tiny bit creepy, but brilliant:




(And no, I did not self-defecate laughing; honestly, internet caption lunatics, have some decorum.)



MASSIVE WARNING/DISCLAIMER THING:

I don't know how safe, if at all, the tin foil trick is, though – don't try that at home, kids!

Until the next missive ... shake it off, Taylor-stylee.


qb xx
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Monday, 15 August 2016

Sunday Summary Monday Missive | I am frightened by the crowd ... for we are getting much too loud.

Dear FOQ

First of all ... happy ... whatever day this blog ends up being posted. Monday. Happy Monday. This is your pink and feathery Monday Missive.


Incidentally, well done to both Charlie and Ma QB who identified the song in the last post's subject line as this one:


Mime much, Manfred Mann? ;-)

---

This fortnight, I have mostly been ...

Reading


Watching

 Gilmore girls

Incidentally, many thanks due to AJ for flagging up this treat, coming to Netflix for four special episodes only:


I do believe this warrants a gif much like this:


Fixing Dad

 This documentary, about two brothers deciding to help 'fix' their father and his ill health, was screened on the BBC a couple of weeks ago, and, my hip-and-with-it status being notoriously fictional, I've only just got round to it, which is shameful, since a family friend was one of the camera operators!

It was a little bit weep-worthy to say the least.


OITNB

Lil' bit obsessed still. Not gonna lie.

I'm currently boosting Pennsatucky up the list of favourite characters. She's messed up but she's surfing that wave of character complexity like a boss. Her unlikely friendship with Big Boo is gorgeous.


Muriel's Wedding

OK so it looks dated but its 90s-ness is endearing. And this is still a fabulous scene:


The English Patient

The Olympics

 Hot diggity dog.

I don't think we could possibly expect the excitement of Rio 2016 to top the euphoria over the home-games four years ago. We've had an election and a referendum since then, and I for one was feeling pretty darn antsy and uncomfortable about the whole Being British thing.

But I'll admit a lot of pride has risen back to the surface during the last week or so.

Over two days we rose from 9th in the medal table to third. And now we're freakin' second! Woohoo! Way to go, Team GB! Considering how tiddly we are as a country (and also how much of Europe is probably still looking at Great Britain thinking, who even are you?) that's not bad. Not bad at all. Phenomenal, actually.

These Games came at the right time to restore a tiny smidge of goodwill to this little island.

And of course, this being the Summary, I can't let the Olympics pass without including some sort of tribute by way of visual stimuli:




Oh and also ... this:


(Man alive, my eyes have been well and truly obliterated this past fortnight.)

The BFG

 ... with Ma QB.

Heh.

That rhymes.



We two human beans took ourselves off to the Actual Cinema on Tuesday for this Spielberg Spectacular.


I, being of a Certain Age (old; I'm old) have fond, if sketchy, memories of the last film adaptation which looked a little bit like this:


The new film, with CGI and live-action combined, looks very much like this:


and y'know what? We flipping loved it. It was wonderfully true to the feel of the book, right down to the fact it was set in a vaguely composite decade between the Seventies and the Eighties, so no allowances in the story line needed to be made for modern life (although perhaps the reference to Ronald and Nancy Reagan at the end may need some explaining to younger viewers ...).

Ruby Barnhill is a perfick Sophie; very bolshy but also very endearing and ... is it wrong that a computer-generated giant (albeit with hints of Mark Rylance's face), with huge, satellite-dish ears, made me tear up more than once??

And there were some proper belly-laugh moments. Because Ma and I, we're just silly kids at heart really. Who doesn't love a good whizz-pop joke?

And finally ...

Jesus Christ Superstar at the Regent's Park Open Air Theatre.


It was fantastic.

OK, yes, that's not what one would call an insightful review but hey, I'm spreading myself thin here; bear with.

I'm sure the staging is particularly effective for evening performances when the sun is going down, but we were just as lucky weather-wise; it was hot and intermittently sunny, which felt right for a Holy Land setting (give or take a few very English leaves breaking free, and the occasional unwelcome pigeon overhead).

{The set}

{The speshulist members of the audience}

Given I've only 'seen' two stagings of JCS previously (not including the film), and one of those stagings I was in at university (the other was the amazing ESOS production lovely Fi was in two years ago), I had little to compare this production to.

But what I liked about it (and there are many things) was its contemporary approach, from the simple costumes to the modern-dance choreography which had a real 'fanatical' edge to it, to the hipster-bearded disciples to Pilate the Rock Star who played guitar while he sang 'Pilate's Dream'.

And the vocals.

Oh, the wonderful, wonderful "strike me roan, is he singing falsetto?" vocals.

The "OK, we're only in the first half but Mary Magdalene is already making me cry" vocals.

The "man alive, that man has range and did he just sing the lowest note ever known??!" vocals.

We saw Declan Bennett as Jesus; and I may or may not have seen him in Once as well – he has beautiful range and a real vulnerability to his voice. He absolutely roared out his anguish over 'Gethsemane/I Only Want to Say ...' after kicking off the song also playing guitar, then rocked out big-style.

And Tyrone Huntley as Judas. Who demonstrates some serious vocal mastery. He's definitely one to watch. And to listen to.  As is the wonderful 'voice that hits yer boots' Cavin Cornwall as High Priest Caiaphas who, with his priests, somehow made being barbaric and bloodthirsty ... a little bit sexy* (and if you see them dance as they sing, you'll understand why).

(*That sounded less inappropriate in my head.)

The relationship between Mary Magdalene and Jesus is never explored as much as it should be, in JCS; but blow me down, when Anoushka Lucas, as Mary. sings the iconic 'I Don't Know How to Love Him' you listen (except if you're a rude woman three rows back in the audience in which case you hand out and eat doughnuts).

And if you're me you sit there in the open air on a summer afternoon and work that Ugly Cry Face. Ah, the perils of an outdoor, daytime performance, eh?

{Hears: "Doooon't you think it's rather fuuuuuuuunny?
I should beeee in this posiiiiiiiition?" Has this reaction.}

... Neither Ma nor I will, however, ever understand how people can justify talking during a production like this. I'm shooting This Face at you, woman behind us


who, just after 'Jesus' had bared his soul and ripped his shirts from his tortured self after 'Gethsemane', thought it appropriate to comment, "He's quite fit, isn't he?"

Well, yes. He is. (And he brings vulnerability and nuance to his performance; no objectification here.)

But in the middle of a mindful silence is not the time to mention it.


---

In the midst of all this cultural stimulation, I have also been (equally cultural in ...)

Heading to IKEA

with AJ and Julie.

And eating meatballs/veggie balls/Daim cake/apple cake (all of those, between us, somehow).

Getting much too much home bar inspo ...

{Can you spot the girls??}

... and not enough shelving units, because the ones I wanted were out of stock ...

{Reaches Aisle 46, Location 38.
Finds it empty.
Like my soul.
And as a side note, thank you, Giphy, for supplying this magnificent retro Stockard Channing gif
under 'roll eyes'. Day = made}

But checking out the quirky coloured wall display on the way out of the shop:


Trippy, man.

Experimenting

... with Boomerang, an Instagram add-on. Such fun!

So perhaps I need to look for more stimulating subjects than trains, or my feet:




Or my feet on a train.



But I'm getting a little bit addicted to finding Boomerang opportunities. Witness:


Look at that chicken dancing. She's dancing! Hours of amusement.

Doing the Coffee and Catchup Thing

... with Lady Charlie. Because, it's Charlie and I needed a catchup. Back to 51 Degrees North we went for a lovely chinwag, and were joined also by Al. Always good to see you two Lovelies.

... But wot, no #blogfodder? Fail.

We need to meet up again so I can get me some snaps.

---

Pinterest Pins of the Fortnight
One verbal ♦ one visual




Fortnightly Web Finds

Sensible

Silly

{via here}
  • Bored or frustrated by your commute home? Start a sing-a-long! Thanks to Charlie for this!


  • And finally, albeit belatedly ... thank you to Evie for sharing this rather spectacularific gif:


Dog Enjoying A Water Slide



Keep cool, dudes and dudesses.

 qb xx
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Sunday, 17 July 2016

Sunday Summary | If they were me, if they were me, and I was you, and I was you ...

Dear FOQ

Settle in, my friends, this is a big one, expanding in direct proportion to my age, it would seem. Egads.

This fortnight, I have mostly been ...

Reading


Watching

... Gilmore girls
{Lorelai, proving that the Struggle is Real}
... and the first series of OITNB once again.


(Incidentally, towards the end of the first season, Maritza mentions she has a baby daughter. Does she ever get mentioned again? ...)

Rewatching:

  • Flashdance
{Arc welder by day, exotic dancer by night ... though actually
it would have been more useful had Alex been a plumber ...}
Don't let the excellent dance routines detract you from some now very uncomfortable racism and sexism.

  • Drop Dead Gorgeous


 which has its deliciously dark moments but feels a little ... overacted now.

That said, it has a brilliant cast (Kirsten Dunst, Denise Richards, Amy Adams, the late but always great Brittany Murphy).

And Kirstie Alley is at her best. (Remember Kirstie Alley?)


  • To Wong Foo ...


 I'd forgotten the immortal genius of Swayze, Snipes and Leguizamo in drag.

Especially Leguizamo.


And this wonderful moment from once-my-idol-always-my-idol Stockard Channing, taking one for the girls:


Sigh. I do miss Miss Vida.


Partying

... with my new workmates at our summer shindig, which was held here.

I was too darn busy Ceilidh-dancing to take many photos but here, for you, a choice few:

{Quirky road name spotted on the walk
to the venue ...}

{The splendid Canterbury Christ Church university building on the Salomons site}
{The 'groynds' ...}
{Actual people in a photo! My new work girls, Emma, Emily, Megan}
Verdict on the whole event?


Celebrating

 My birthday.
My old-gettin'.
My dotage.
Myself.
{QB minus 38 years | #freakbaby}

 My Week of Me began on Monday with a coffee with friend R in honour of his birthday, at West Central, a local café I don't often frequent because, well, I'm a slave to the Costa machine. However, being independent, West Central has a whole 'nother vibe to it.

Not that I won't continue to exploit my Costa Card till the very last creamy cooler is prised from my extremely cold, dead hands:



(and it did take me two hours to down one of those bad boys four days later) but ... different can be nice.

Very nice it was too. I knocked back an espresso over a magazine while I waited for R to arrive:

{The Simple Things, fyr}
then tried a Frosty (or frosted? Can't remember) Lemonade with cream on top, which was remarkably reminiscent of the ice cream on lemonade floats we used to have as children.

Except ever so slightly more ... hipster.


The rest of the day was insignificant, consisting of:
  • Dentistry, and the implicit scolding
{My dentist is only slightly less manic. Truth. But he's good so I'll allow
the mentalism.}
  • Binge-watching (see above)
  • Dusting
  • Living the dream. Same old, same old.

On Tuesday, Ma, Pa and QB headed on down to Dungeness for a day trip. I'm pretty sure I've photographed Dungeness more than I've photographed my own family in recent years but the scenery never gets tired.

{Ma and QB, feet in the sea. Well, a little rivulet, actually,
since the sea was ma-hiles away ...}




After a quick paddle we drove to the RHDR station by the old lighthouse, and had a very nice coffee at the newly refurbed station café:



While we were there, one of the tiny steam engines pulled in for a spell (before collecting more passengers) so being the spod that I am:

{via here}
I popped out to take a few photos of Hurricane:




{RHDR, still providing a more regular, and efficient, service than
... you know who} 
After coffee we had a little wander along the boardwalk (#along the boardwalk ... boardwalk ...#) over the shingle, between the power station, the old lighthouse and the 'new' lighthouse.

Did I mention that the scenery never gets tired? Witness, here and here (see also, the quirky brunette header banner ...):





After a very slight detour, or two, we then drove to Stone-in-Oxney, near Tenterden, for lunch in a recommended pub, The Ferry Inn. Once a smugglers' haunt on what was an island, the pub was first built in 1690 and now sits along a narrow waterway on which an eponymous ferry once ran.

And that's enough education for one day, I think.

Onto the Ever Crucial Description of What We Ate.

I had a cheeky shiraz because, birthday week, and also, lunch, and after quite a wait (during which we muttered under our breaths about the Very Loud Opinionated Obnoxious Heaving Giant of a Man on the table next to us – and his wife, who was sitting across the table, but seemed to be allowed no thoughts or dialogue of her own) Ma and I each took receipt of a very, very nice chargrilled chicken fillet in peanut butter and sweet chilli sauce, with salad and additional frites (because we still love you, Europe)



and Pa had pork medallions ...


... in mushroom sauce. (Oh well, eh?)

All velly, velly delectable. We pushed the boat ferry out and went for dessert as well: raspberry cheesecake for Pa, white chocolate panna cotta with berries for Ma, and profiteroles for me, professional chubster.


By the time dessert came out, our Noisy Neighbour (and his party, who may have had opinions of their own about current affairs but we'll probably never know) had left, and we could enjoy the sweet stuff in delicious silence.

On Wednesday, I pootled over to Horley for a very enjoyable breakfast with Ms Jess W, and a proper catch-up after too many months of mutual isolation (this is what seems to happen in a Voicerox-less era: we've all dispersed just a little too widely. Sad times).

'Twas lovely to see young Jess and put the world to rights (the world should be in good order in my hands by now, or so you'd think ...!), over coffee (tea for Jessie J) pancakes, and a little mini fry-uppy breakfast for this one:



Let's not leave it so long next time.

Thursday, I spent in my own excellent company because, well, introvert. I even had the first lie-in for ages which was shhhhhweet (even though I'd already been "rudely awakened by the dustmen").

Waffles and coffee were required (cwoffles™), followed by much lounging, slobbing, louching and other expressions of near-nothingness. ("I thought about leaving the 'ouse" then decided against it for the time being.)

With a Spotify and vinyl soundtrack, natch.

{#tbt | oh to be ten again | qb on instagram}

And, on Friday, I aged.

Not overnight, of course.


Just ... gradually. Ergo, celebration.

The birthday itself was quite low-key, which was fairly deliberate, but with some definite highlights including opening wonderful cards from nearest and dearest who know me much too well, the obligatory indulgent Coffee in Bed with a Book:


WhatsApping Norgstar while I opened the magnificent gifts she'd sent me, and having her sing Happy Birthday and send me little voice messages to keep me company:

{Yes, that's flamingo wrapping paper! Love it!}


{Oh hello, cactus marquee light!}
{A morning mocktail! | 7UP and grenadine}
I also received this brilliant book from Ms Charliekins, which we'd been chatting about the week before, and which is just giving me Too Many Ideas for the Next Walking Challenge (Cousin Jo, beware ...):


The rest of the day was spent reading in the park, eating lunch in Costa, filing my archived magazine articles (never let it be said I don't live entirely on the edge), receiving lovely messages on FB, watching To Wong Foo ... before 6pm finally rocked around and the proper birthday indulgences could begin:


Sis rocked up at 7.45 and Natalie not long after, so off we pootled to Reigate, for birthday dindins at Bill's, along with Jos, Fern and AJ!

I'm-a just going to leave these shots here ...:

{The antique shop next door | What does the fox say? ... Dare we ask? | Photo by Natalie}

{QB ... with a cute bee! | Photo by Natalie}

{My party peoples!}

{Because party panoramas are always a good idea, right?}

{Wouldn't be a meet-up with Nats without a selfie!}
{Sister act}

{...}




'Twas a lovely, lovely night; I felt thoroughly spoiled and all squishy. Thank you for coming, girls, and for the gorgeous cards, gifts and presence therein!

After a couple of Archers, a bit o' Prosecco, one or two Hedgerow Fizzes and a partridge in a pear tree, it's a miracle I managed to haul myself out of bed on Saturday morning to shimmy on over to Caterham to get my hair did ...

... but I did.

{Hair symmetry restored. No more annoying floppy fringe}
The afternoon was Party Time Part Deux: I trotted round to Voicerox Pete and Nicola's pad for their ceremonial Shed-Warming (aka excellent excuse for a party). There was Pimms. There was music. There were many bubbles (of the soap variety). And a magic trick. There was a gorgeous four-month-old baby girl to cuddle. There were more Voicerox Lovelies past and present (shout-out to Gayle, Jude and Alun). It was a jolly lovely afternoon.

And even though I took the wrong turn at a fork in the road and had to take a long route home via the golf course (!) rather than make a fairly short 30-minute direct walk ... it was fine. 'Twas a glorious, hot summer evening at last.

All good.

Well, it's now Sunday ergo Summary Day, but as I'm at Ma and Pa's for Lunch and Lounging without a Laptop, this post is scheduled; any photos taken today (ergo Sunday ... and did I just overuse 'ergo' for no apparent reason?) will be added to the SS at a later date.


Pinterest Pins of the Fortnight

 One verbal ♦ one visual



Fortnightly Web Finds

There are many!

Most are videos.

Watch them. Skip them. W'evs. I won't ever know.

Except I will because I'll quiz you on them.

Or will I?

 Serious(ish)
{via here and here}

{via here and here}
  • This Tumblr feed. Not sure how long ago it was last updated but who cares when it's curated so beautifully? | Found via decor8
{via here}
{via here}
  • This a cappella cover of You're the Voice (John Farnham, from The Eighties) is just stunning | on YouTube | via Charlie


 Silly

You know you love my Southern Fail-related posts. You LOVE 'em. (I know, you'd rather I just belt up and suck it up, buttercup, and yet still they come, the rants ...):






  • This teeny video | on Instagram | via Clare L | {Interesting user name there :-/}

A video posted by @bitchslayings on

  • Also this, via Eloise (I think?)

A video posted by LOL Vines 😂 (@lol_vines) on


and finally ...



That's yer lot for now. *readership heaves collective sigh of relief*

More in a fortnight! Please kindly contain yourselves until then.

qb xx
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