Bored
Me and Small Person are watching Top of the Pops. She is scathing in her condemnation of The Police doing Roxanne ("he sounds like a girl, Mummy") and I can't really fault her. I can't bear Sting. I can't stand the horrible cod-reggae droning, the persistent do-gooding (I wouldn't mind but it's all so ultimately inconsequential - see also Bono), the smug, self-satisfied presence of the man. Horrid.
That aside, Sunday sucks. It's an oft-discussed topic here in Blogland, but I can't help but add my two pennorth. It's a hangover from being eleven. You've had your Sunday lunch. You've played with your Spirograph, listened to Now That's What I Call Music 7, written "I love Howard Jones" on your bookbag and had a bath. Now it's time for your mum to burn your ears with the hairdryer during Songs of Praise and there might be time for a mint Viscount (they're posh, you know) before bed. When I was young, the mere mention of preparing for Monday would elicit a sulk so monumental it made Mariah Carey's tantrum on hearing that there were no more gold-plated baby marmosets to play with seem inconsequential. I utterly, utterly resented the five minutes it would take me to prepare my bag for Monday morning. And it's no different now. I have grudgingly done dinner money and forked over the ransom I pay the childminder. I have polished Small Person's shoes and ensured that clean uniform is ready. I have made her a packed lunch for tomorrow and am currently creating a Thai green chicken curry for myself (fast, low-fat and delicious. How very Good Housekeeping). The net effect of this frenzied activity is a barely-suppressed urge to flounce around the flat, swinging my arms and muttering "oh, for god's sake" under my breath whilst glaring malevolently from beneath my overlong fringe. Except these days, I'm the grownup and I have all this to look forward to with a child of my own. That'll fucking teach me.
Carry on.
That aside, Sunday sucks. It's an oft-discussed topic here in Blogland, but I can't help but add my two pennorth. It's a hangover from being eleven. You've had your Sunday lunch. You've played with your Spirograph, listened to Now That's What I Call Music 7, written "I love Howard Jones" on your bookbag and had a bath. Now it's time for your mum to burn your ears with the hairdryer during Songs of Praise and there might be time for a mint Viscount (they're posh, you know) before bed. When I was young, the mere mention of preparing for Monday would elicit a sulk so monumental it made Mariah Carey's tantrum on hearing that there were no more gold-plated baby marmosets to play with seem inconsequential. I utterly, utterly resented the five minutes it would take me to prepare my bag for Monday morning. And it's no different now. I have grudgingly done dinner money and forked over the ransom I pay the childminder. I have polished Small Person's shoes and ensured that clean uniform is ready. I have made her a packed lunch for tomorrow and am currently creating a Thai green chicken curry for myself (fast, low-fat and delicious. How very Good Housekeeping). The net effect of this frenzied activity is a barely-suppressed urge to flounce around the flat, swinging my arms and muttering "oh, for god's sake" under my breath whilst glaring malevolently from beneath my overlong fringe. Except these days, I'm the grownup and I have all this to look forward to with a child of my own. That'll fucking teach me.
Carry on.
posted by surly girl at 7:18 pm
29 Comments:
I am the only person in Britain sad enough to be looking at blogs on a Sunday night before preparing a stir fry (fast, high salt content, underwhelming). Went to see Brokeback Mountain earlier - that too was a bit underwhelming (er, in my opinion).
I am hoping that Sting will spontaneously combust one day, the self-loving wanker.
hi sg-its still sunday afternoon here but I know what you mean. That holdover of dread on Sunday night.
I can't believe you make lunch the night before. See, now that is smart. I'd probably reduce my stress level quite a bit if I could get organized enough to try that.
Sting is an irritating, self regarding, toosser. If he was any furthur up his arse his head would dissapear.
It is my profound hope that he suffers a fatal embolism next time he attempts tantric sex with the big toothed Trudi.
Just watching recorded TOTP (we're that sad) - who is that twat from Top Gear? And what's this Kubb shit with their song Grub? And we both agree that Police is cod-reggae but don't know what it means. If it's white reggae, we don't know of any black fish. Of course we'd like to see Sting battered (maybe that's what it means).
Viscount, blimey, I'd forgotten them. I hated them.. but knew better than to refuse because chocolate was a rare treat back in the old days.
And remember those crisps that came in a big bag with a picture of a squirrel (I think) on them, they were shaped like wheels?
They were top banana.
I loved Blondie, but was too scared to write it on my exercise book.
I loved the Police and I retain a fondness for Sting. I can't explain it and I know his Bono-esque do-gooding should make me despise him but I just can't help liking the man's music.
I expect to be cast out into the wastelands and studiously ignored by all in cyber-space.
I'm on Sting's side too. If you were there, the Police were a great band, and he has gone on to show that he's a proper musician too.
And the on-off g/f played with him a couple of times and says he's a really nice guy. Perhaps that's why everyone hates him.
But Bono? I'm with you there SG. U2 aren't even his band...
i was more of a nik kershaw girl, meeself
but it was not immune to mr jones' wisdom..."don't try to live your life in one day"
amen to that
and whilst we are on the subject of self-important, self-loving celebrities, i recall a recent documentary on band aid in which some former pop stars said sth along the lines of:
oh, and there we were, we just got a call from bob and we came right back from st tropez and there we were standing in this dingy studio, DRINKING COFFEE FROM PAPER CUPS!!!!!!!! it was mad!!!!!!!!
oh, getoveryourselves
(i hate to say it, but it may have been simon le bon wot said it)
I hate sting but hold a certain place in my heart for bono. I know this isn't the place to admit it but I can't help confessing. What's wrong with brokeback mountain Betty? SG and I off to see it on thursday.
it was simon le bon. i can't stand him either, but at least he's not constantly banging on about how he's saving the world, one starving child/tree in the rainforest at a time. i mean, i've got nothing against people making a difference, but for christ's sake just SHUT UP about it for five minutes. and sting is creepy and his wife is creepier.
i can't justify it. it's just an irrational loathing. whatever.
I loved that post SG. I too fucking hate preparing packed lunches, sorting school bags and all that stuff (especially making sandwiches).
It sounds like you may be qualified to answer Andy's question: "What is the difference between Thai Red Curry and Thai Green Curry?" (I have to admit I've never had either and don't know)
Can anyone guess the response he got from the lady at the Chinese ...
Zanna - It's difficult to describe why I found Brokeback Mountain underwhelming. It's been raved about but I just couldn't feel emotionally involved with the characters or moved by what was happening on screen. It was fairly understated most of the time, so perhaps it went over my head. Or (more likely) I'm just a coldhearted bitch.
it's probably that.
donna - the difference is in the chillis you use, or so i've always presumed....i'm probably wrong, but it was gorgeous so i don't care. i bet the lady in the chinese said "one's red, one's green", didn't she?
i'm HUNGRY. lost half a stone now tho.
and how do you spell "chillis" anyway?
chillies? chillis? chilis?
where's pashmina when you need her?
Bearing in mind my culinary prowess (!) I would have said it was chilli's...
no!! no apostrophe!!
bad other half. bad.
Yes SG. "won is wed, won is gween"
They're not really any different then are they?
OH - go and sit in the corner.
Bollocks to you all...ultimately it's not how it's written it's how it tastes !!!!!!
Erm, why was 'Roxanne' playing on TOTP? Has it been re-released? I'm English, in San Francisco, without BBC America on cable. And I don't know what's happening. Someone, please....
totp has gone all retro - once every week they show a performance from the archives. regrettably, last night's was the police. don't panic, arabella. all is well....
Indeed it is...if only The Police, The Jam and The Smiths were still on TV or radio regularly then we would not be subjected to all this manufactured shite that swamps the airwaves.
What happened to real music ? Where did it go and why won't it come back ?
Anyone with the answers please send them on a postcard to......
Mmm, Thai green curry.
There was a time when I thought that earth had nothing to show more fair than N. Kershaw, and that "The Riddle" was the most profound piece of music ever produced. All together now: "Near a tree by a river there's a a hole in the ground..."
Hmm, I can't actually believe I remember that. I could go on, as well. Oh dear.
In my household its name is "Sunday Malaise." It is usually cured by staying up too late watching a movie as it's the un-adult thing to do.
How very strange that we led parallel Sunday childhood lives on opposite sides of the globe. God, I loved Howard Jones. Didn't know anyone else still remembered him.
I saw Howard Jones play live back when I was a teenie weenie. I must admit, I was quite impressed, even back then at how just one guy could captivate an entire arena with his twidling and electronic piano playing.
Mind you, he had that guy...what was his name....Jed???? with him. The guy who was supposedly deaf/dumb and did all the mines n dancing n stuff.
Sorry for the delay. I believe it's "chillies", but to be honest I always have problems with that one too. I think it's all the ls. Very confusing.
Howard Jones was a bit of a local hero where I grew up (my mum gave a talk to the horticultural society of which his mother was a member. I lorded it around school on the back of that for days).
My heart belonged to Nik though, despite the fact he was shorter than I was even then. Not to mention the snoods...
I don't get it. Thumbs *DOWN* for Sting, but thumbs *UP* David Hasselhoff?!?!?!?!? :)
With you on hating Sunday nights. Spending weekends in one place and weekdays in another makes it worse.
I think the curry paste question *is* mainly about the colour of the chillies and so the heat, but the other flavourings change as well.
http://thaifood.about.com/od/thaicurrypasterecipes/
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