| |
7,813 / 60,000 (13.0%) |
Earlier I was telling David that I felt fed up because it seems particularly Sunday-ish today. He reminded me that Gavin & Stacey is on tonight and that was all I needed to cheer me right up.
I picked this clip because as soon as I saw Smithy dancing, I was filled with a warm glow and watched the rest of the episode with a dopey smile on my face. Also, I love this song.
I'm watching Ocean's Thirteen, but I had to stop to share this:
I love the song Bedshaped by Keane so when I discovered it has been covered by Vittorio Grigolo, I had to check it out. Loving the song (although I prefer the original), but loving the fantastically cheesy video even more.
I used to watch Ellen's sitcom, but then she kind of fell off my radar until fairly recently. Now one of my favourite things is watching her dance at the beginning of her chat show.
But also, I find her incredibly inspiring. For some unholy reason, I feel kind of old and like I'm running out of time to do everything I want to do and I'm only 36. Ellen was 50 earlier this week. 50! I would never have guessed. Not only does she not look it, she's so youthful in outlook, enthusiastic and joyful (plus, unlike me, she knows new music). She makes me happy.
And she inspires me. You should watch this clip of her stand up show in which she represented her experience of coming out via the medium of interpretive dance, but just in case you don't want to watch it (busy, are ya?) then at least read this:
When you're down there there are times you believe you'll never get up again and it's a scary place and it's very dark. But I believe that's when you grow the most, when you face your fears, that's when you grow. So I decided I'm going to face every fear I have, I'm going to challenge myself every opportunity I get. People always try to make you feel better, they say, 'Oh, there's nothing to fear but fear itself'. Okay, great, now I'm scared of fear, thank you very much.
"It was an attempt to combine musical theatre with police drama"
If you're an obsessive fan of Gilmore Girls (Hi, Diane and Stella!) you may have already seen this, but I only just got around to looking it up ... and I could not believe my eyes. Or ears.
Just to be clear, this is a real TV show. And not only that, this is what Steven Bochco did after Hill Street Blues.
Totally fixated on Sesame Street at the moment. It started when I spotted Elmo alphabet rap and watched it with Harry. Inevitably that led to me clicking on about twenty other videos and then twenty more ... and then searching for "Rubber Ducky" and then I saw one with John John (remember little John John) which led me to this.
It sounds ridiculous, but Luis and Maria (not to mention Oscar) feel like family. God, I loved Sesame Street. I think that's where my New York obsession began...
Every time I go to New York (and I've been five times now), I find something else I want to do and think, "Oh, well I'll have to come back."
I still haven't been to any of the galleries or museums (no, not even the one in When Harry Met Sally!) and, talking of WHMS, I haven't been to the Boathouse Cafe (where Sally tells Carrie Fisher and the ginger one that she and Paul have broken up and Carrie Fisher gets her Rolodex out) or to Riverside Park where Tom'n'Meg meet in You've Got Mail.
I'd quite like to do that trapeze thing that Carrie Bradshaw did once, plus I *still* haven't spent enough time in Lower Manhattan, Tribeca or the Meatpacking District, or the Upper West Side, where I'd rather like to pretend I live. Or Harlem. Or Brooklyn. Or Coney Island.
And then I read this post on the fabulous The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl, which I've only just discovered (thanks, Claire!) and I have to add bike-riding to the list. Sigh. It's a hard life...
Oh and finally here's the other side of Top of the Rock (with a quick glimpse of Diane - in the pink hat - halfway through).
I haven't watched Morecambe & Wise for years, but when I saw this on an advert, I remembered why I used to love them so much. If you don't at the very least smile when they start dancing, then you must be dead inside. Dead inside!
I'd never heard of this song until it was playing on someone's MySpace page and my ears pricked up. Googled it, YouTubed it and discovered this version from The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (haven't seen the film, but now I've seen this clip it's going on my LoveFilm list). Love it!
Yesterday morning was Harry's first Nativity service and I ... didn't cry. I know! To be fair, I couldn't see him for most of it. We tried to keep our heads down because we thought if he saw us, he'd want to come and sit with us. He was a shepherd and he was very cute, if a little bewildered...
Since then he's been saying, "Back to church? More church?" and I've been saying, "Not til next Christmas, mate!" :)
He is being particularly cute at the moment...
Yesterday, he was watching an alphabet thing and it got to W. "What begins with W?" I asked. "Wocket!" said H. Do you think he's a genius?
This morning, he stubbed his toe. I lifted his foot up, kissed all his toes and said, "There. That's better." About 20 minutes later he stubbed his toe again. Lifted his own foot up, kissed all his toes and said, "There. Tha' better."
In WH Smiths yesterday he wanted me to lift him up to look at a "cave". (It was actually a hole in the countertop.) Once I lifted him up, he leaned over and shouted into it, "Anybody there?"
The other day when I was lying on the sofa feeling sorry for myself, Harry brought me a cushion and my book.
He is, quite literally, a total joy.
And, as you all believed I would, I've started to think another child might not be an utterly heinous nightmare. Don't get excited, the idea still doesn't fill me with bliss, but it doesn't want to make me throw up or cry either (and yet the thought of giving birth again still does).
David's cautiously excited and the other night I was looking through the Ikea catalogue (one of the other Things That Make Me Happy) and there was a picture of four kids jumping on a sofa. Holding it up, I said to David (sarcastically), "Hey, why don't we have four kids?" and he, snuggling up against me, said, "I did always imagine us with three." "Oh for god's sake," I said. But the thing is, I always imagined us with three too.
Pray for me.
I'm (in theory) going to have an internet-free weekend, since I'm going to cart this (very heavy) computer downstairs and finish my novel in front of the Christmas tree (with a litre of Bailey's). But I didn't want to leave you hangin' so here's another one of my favourite things.
Craig singing beautifully (and being suprisingly sexy), Anton singing, um, not quite so well, but being his charming self, and Bruce actually making me laugh. Let me repeat that. Stick to the end of this video because Bruce (yes, Bruce Forsyth) says ... something ... funny.
I've mentioned it before, but it really does give me a little frisson of delight whenever I see that Marian Keyes' monthly newsletter has arrived in my in-box. This month was no exception. Well, apart from the fact that the following made me laugh so much I had a painful and unpleasant coughing fit. (Has anyone else got this cough? Doesn't it feel like you're going to tear something vital?)
Massages were included in the price of the week but Himself refused to have his. When pressed he admitted that he feared that he might ‘make a show’ of himself on the table and confuse the masseuse into thinking he was looking for a ‘happy ending.’ I mentioned this to Caitriona my sister, who is a nurse and no-nonsense about this sort of thing. “Oh it happens all the time,” she sez. (the show-making, not the happy ending.) “The girls are well used to it. If things get out of hand, they just hit it with a spoon.” I relayed this information to Himself, who remained doubtful. I came up with a solution: we would have a trial run.
So off we went and when things reached optimum position, so to speak, I gave it a stout clatter with a soup spoon, but sadly mes amies, the stout clatter wasn’t sufficient to deflate things. We were baffled and so were all the others in the dining room. (My little joke. We were alone.) I offered to inflict an even stouter clatter, but he cupped his hands protectively around his region, telling me to get lost, that I might bruise it. We considered that we might be using the wrong sort of spoon, Himself seemed convinced that if the spoon was wooden it would do the trick, but we had no way of getting our hands on a wooden spoon, so we decided that all things considered, it was probably best if he opted out of the massages.
I added a daily Peanuts cartoon to my Google home page a while ago and this one made me laugh.
When we were in America a few years ago, we saw an exhibition of Tom Everhart's Peanuts paintings and I love them.
This one, of Woodstock, is called Calmly Insane in My Nest. I wonder why it appeals...
I do love Woodstock, not least because I had a dodgy haircut (it involved a root perm - a root perm!) a few years ago and David took to calling me Woodstock.
