Went to See Avenue Q last night, as part of my birthday celebrations. Had heard that it was very funny, with actors controlling puppets that were vaguely Sesame Street-esque, but ruder.
Yes, I'd say two puppets boffing away in the middle of the stage was slightly rude, but incredibly funny.
The show 'starred' puppets, but the stars were really the voice artists/puppet controllers who had a strange skill of being obviously there manipulating the puppets but, after a while, just became part of the scenery and enabled the audience to concentrate on the puppet, rather than the person standing two inches behind it.
Highly recommended. Just don't take the kids.
Friday, 22 February 2008
Sesame Street, it ain't
Thursday, 21 February 2008
Sunday, 9 December 2007
The Christmas Party
Just what is it about this annual event that makes people act so strangely? Ah, yes, the booze.
Had ours on Friday night and, as with so many parties across the country, as the alcohol increased, so did the strange events. I must confess that I am guilty of having a few too many (£2.80 for a double vodka and coke - seriously, you'd have to be mad not to make the most of that!)
However, the morning after always produces fine stories. Amongst our tales of woe, we had someone throwing mince pies across the car park, somebody else urinating in the middle of the same car park, without a care in the world, as traffic passed alongside, me singing Take That's 'Back For Good' as a duet with the hired singer (I bow my head in shame) and somebody else being dry-humped.
Come to think of it, I'm actually quite glad I can't remember much of it. If your party is coming up, enjoy!
Saturday, 1 December 2007
Livingstone's double bluff
I wanted to have a wander into the city today to make a start on my Christmas shopping. I thought I'd make the most of the much hyped traffic-free Oxford and Bond Street. Ken Livingstone's put a lot of effort into advertising and promoting the fact that these roads would be fully pedestrian just for Saturday, alongside street entertainers and music to make it a fun and enjoyable day for all. Use the tube and come on down to have a truely unique experience!
Then he decides to give the go-ahead for my local tube station to be closed this weekend for engineering works. Cheers.
Saturday, 24 November 2007
The waiting game
I had the misfortune to be stuck in ladies fashion store 'Jane Norman' this afternoon. I don't particularly mind shopping with girls. It's not as bad as it's made out to be. Yes, it does involve waiting around outside changing rooms for a long time, but it provides quality thinking time which is a rarity. It also enables me to look at the other poor souls who are standing around playing the waiting game too.
Whilst I was standing around today, I created a game to keep me occupied. You can play it too, if you want. Here's what to do.
Next time you're sitting on one of those soft cube cushions in the waiting area, pick a man who looks suitably fed up.
Look carefully at his face. Study the look of boredom and frustration then take a bet (with yourself, not with him because he'll probably smack you) on the number of minutes before he has an outburst.
Then, sit back and watch as the look of sheer boredom grows and manifests itself into a fearsome beast, ready to explode at the next halterneck top that the unfortunate man's lady friend chooses to wave under his nose with the immortal line "What do you think?"
I bet seven minutes against one bloke today. He exploded in 3 minutes, 12 seconds. I lost the bet with myself. Highly enjoyable though.
Normal service will soon resume...
I'm just fiddling with a few bits to make my blogging life a tad easier for me.
If you haven't noticed, I'm not the most regular blogger due to the fiddly nature of this blogging site I'm on. Hopefully, by posting entries this way, I'll be able to comment on more nothingness a bit more frequently.
Monday, 13 August 2007
Avoidance
On Saturday, I went to the gym. However, due to the local council wishing to tear up the roads at a moment's notice, I was stuck in a load of traffic on the way to my normal gym. Having a reciprocal gym membership with this well known fitness chain, I decided to go to another of their branches instead.
I got to said establishment and pulled into a parking spot. I reversed out a little, with the intention of straightening and tidying the parking up. Nothing worse than being outside your polygon - there's no excuse. Anyway, as I was slowly reversing out, some pillock goes by at a ridiculously fast speed and honks his horn. He then pulls up a little further down and has the audacity to stick his head out of the window towards me and make, what can only be described as, a Shaw Taylor Police 5 'Keep 'Em Peeled' gesture with his fingers. (Ask your parents.)
He looked bigger than me so, even though I had really done nothing wrong, I kept my fingers to myself. This is Wembley. You can lose your fingers for just blinking at someone in a funny way.
It was then that the charade began. He parked up a little way down, but refused to get out of his car, instead opting to try and stare me out through his rear view mirror, knowing full well I'd have to pass his car to get into the gym. By this point, I'd got out, grabbed my gym bag from the boot and was about to make way towards my hour of sweat and tears. But I saw his eyes. They looked menacing.
So, I began to do what many of us must have done at some point. In order to buy some time, I acted as if I'd lost something. On the surface, I was pretending to look for my gym card. In my head, I was thinking 'You look like a wally'. I opened the boot and rooted around. Looked up - he was still staring. I went to the passenger door and looked in the glove compartment - beady eyes still on me. I leafed through my pockets, 'sighed'. He hadn't moved an inch.
Buying time had failed. Only one option left for delicate folk like me. I got back in my car and drove home. It was the only sensible thing to do. I'm a realist. I like my face as it is. The muscles can wait a day, I'm just glad I still have a pair of eyes that point forwards, ta very much.
I got to said establishment and pulled into a parking spot. I reversed out a little, with the intention of straightening and tidying the parking up. Nothing worse than being outside your polygon - there's no excuse. Anyway, as I was slowly reversing out, some pillock goes by at a ridiculously fast speed and honks his horn. He then pulls up a little further down and has the audacity to stick his head out of the window towards me and make, what can only be described as, a Shaw Taylor Police 5 'Keep 'Em Peeled' gesture with his fingers. (Ask your parents.)
He looked bigger than me so, even though I had really done nothing wrong, I kept my fingers to myself. This is Wembley. You can lose your fingers for just blinking at someone in a funny way.
It was then that the charade began. He parked up a little way down, but refused to get out of his car, instead opting to try and stare me out through his rear view mirror, knowing full well I'd have to pass his car to get into the gym. By this point, I'd got out, grabbed my gym bag from the boot and was about to make way towards my hour of sweat and tears. But I saw his eyes. They looked menacing.
So, I began to do what many of us must have done at some point. In order to buy some time, I acted as if I'd lost something. On the surface, I was pretending to look for my gym card. In my head, I was thinking 'You look like a wally'. I opened the boot and rooted around. Looked up - he was still staring. I went to the passenger door and looked in the glove compartment - beady eyes still on me. I leafed through my pockets, 'sighed'. He hadn't moved an inch.
Buying time had failed. Only one option left for delicate folk like me. I got back in my car and drove home. It was the only sensible thing to do. I'm a realist. I like my face as it is. The muscles can wait a day, I'm just glad I still have a pair of eyes that point forwards, ta very much.
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