Last night;
I leave Glenn and move into a ground floor flat by the sea with Ashley Cole, Ashley and I are very happy together, even though my mother is sat in the corner of the flat repeating "Glenn is a lovely boy" over and over again. I walk out of the flat to go shopping and someone shoots me in the back, I fall to the floor and realise I am paralysed. Ashley Cole comes out of the flat, throws a blanket over me and runs away. My mother comes out of the flat, she leans down to where I am lying on the floor and says, "what's it like? Being shot?", and I say, "it's like being punched really hard", and then I watch as she walks away down the street, feeling the blood pool underneath me.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Monday, May 22, 2006
I think at the next hen party, they should medicate me.
So yeah, Saturday night was Tina's hen party (see Moch's page for pictures), and we went out in Worcester dressed as Disney characters, or at least as close to our allocated character as we could get. I had been given Jessie (that's the cowgirl from Toy Story 2 in case you were thinking 'who the hell...?'), so not the most obvious character. There was Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse, Cinderella, Snow White, Tigger, Piglet, Eeyore.... and Jessie.
However, I soon realised I had lucked out, as everyone else was buying wigs and little bags and wrapping tails around themselves, I put on a Stetson and was off! Nice. Not so nice when a man tried to take it off my head later on, not realising it was tied round my neck and very nearly garroting me in the process, but you know, it could have been worse.
I didn't really know anyone there apart from Moch and Tina, and I realised I was with a very different crowd to the girls I normally go out with when they told me it was a Disney theme, not that the girls I normally go out with are hard core ravers or anything, but our themes have in the past been 'naughty school girls', or 'naughty nurses', I'm sure that if the theme had been 'naughty disney characters' I would have felt more at home, but I was prepared to take the action up to the next level if the night was as tame as the theme suggested it was going to be.
No need for that as it turned out, Tina apparently loves a good pole dance as much as anyone I've been out with before.
I'm not sure I made a great impression though, there was a card going round for us to sign with our thoughts about the night, so that Tina could read it the next morning and remember her hen party. I had had a little too much to drink I think and didn't really understand, so while everyone else wrote 'have a great night!', or 'you're great Tina!', or 'looking forward to the wedding!', I wrote;
'I saw you dancing with that bald man, you filthy whore'.
However, I soon realised I had lucked out, as everyone else was buying wigs and little bags and wrapping tails around themselves, I put on a Stetson and was off! Nice. Not so nice when a man tried to take it off my head later on, not realising it was tied round my neck and very nearly garroting me in the process, but you know, it could have been worse.
I didn't really know anyone there apart from Moch and Tina, and I realised I was with a very different crowd to the girls I normally go out with when they told me it was a Disney theme, not that the girls I normally go out with are hard core ravers or anything, but our themes have in the past been 'naughty school girls', or 'naughty nurses', I'm sure that if the theme had been 'naughty disney characters' I would have felt more at home, but I was prepared to take the action up to the next level if the night was as tame as the theme suggested it was going to be.
No need for that as it turned out, Tina apparently loves a good pole dance as much as anyone I've been out with before.
I'm not sure I made a great impression though, there was a card going round for us to sign with our thoughts about the night, so that Tina could read it the next morning and remember her hen party. I had had a little too much to drink I think and didn't really understand, so while everyone else wrote 'have a great night!', or 'you're great Tina!', or 'looking forward to the wedding!', I wrote;
'I saw you dancing with that bald man, you filthy whore'.
Are you sitting comfortably......?
One day, as Chicken Licken was walking along an acorn fell on his head, “oh my”, said chicken licken, “the sky is falling in, I must go and tell the king”.
So chicken Licken set off. On the way, he met Henny Penny and Cocky Locky, “I am going to tell the king the sky is falling”, said Chicken Licken, “then we shall come to!” said Henny Penny and Cocky Locky. So Chicken Licken and Henny Penny and Cocky Locky set off to find the king.
On the way, they met Ducky Lucky and Drakey Lakey, “where are you going off to?” they asked, “The sky is falling in!” cried Chicken Licken, “and we are going to tell the king”, “then we shall come too” said Ducky Lucky and Drakey Lakey. So Chicken Licken, Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, Ducky Lucky and Drakey Lakey set off to find the king.
On the way they met Goosey Loosey and Turkey Lurkey (who were crying about the lack of imagination that went into naming them all), “where are you going off to?” they asked, “The sky is falling in!” cried Chicken Licken, “and we are going to tell the king”, “then we shall come too” said Goosey Loosey and Turkey Lurkey. So Chicken Licken, Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, Ducky Lucky, Drakey Lakey, Goosey Loosey and Turkey Lurkey set off to find the king.
On the way they met a fox, “Where are you going?” he asked, “the sky is falling and we are going to tell the king!” they cried, “then follow me” said Foxy Loxy, “I know the way”.
So Chicken Licken, Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, Ducky Lucky, Drakey Lakey, Goosey Loosey and Turkey Lurkey followed Foxy Loxy, but he led them to his den and his family ate them for dinner, so all those foolish birds never did get to see the king, but then the sky didn’t fall in either!”
So chicken Licken set off. On the way, he met Henny Penny and Cocky Locky, “I am going to tell the king the sky is falling”, said Chicken Licken, “then we shall come to!” said Henny Penny and Cocky Locky. So Chicken Licken and Henny Penny and Cocky Locky set off to find the king.
On the way, they met Ducky Lucky and Drakey Lakey, “where are you going off to?” they asked, “The sky is falling in!” cried Chicken Licken, “and we are going to tell the king”, “then we shall come too” said Ducky Lucky and Drakey Lakey. So Chicken Licken, Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, Ducky Lucky and Drakey Lakey set off to find the king.
On the way they met Goosey Loosey and Turkey Lurkey (who were crying about the lack of imagination that went into naming them all), “where are you going off to?” they asked, “The sky is falling in!” cried Chicken Licken, “and we are going to tell the king”, “then we shall come too” said Goosey Loosey and Turkey Lurkey. So Chicken Licken, Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, Ducky Lucky, Drakey Lakey, Goosey Loosey and Turkey Lurkey set off to find the king.
On the way they met a fox, “Where are you going?” he asked, “the sky is falling and we are going to tell the king!” they cried, “then follow me” said Foxy Loxy, “I know the way”.
So Chicken Licken, Henny Penny, Cocky Locky, Ducky Lucky, Drakey Lakey, Goosey Loosey and Turkey Lurkey followed Foxy Loxy, but he led them to his den and his family ate them for dinner, so all those foolish birds never did get to see the king, but then the sky didn’t fall in either!”
Friday, May 19, 2006
Living out the fantasy of literally thousands of women.
I was in my last year at university during the last world cup, and all the England games managed to clash with graduation/end of year events, in particular, the end of year ball.
The lads got into their tuxedos at about midday and headed off to the pub to watch England vs. Argentina, they urged us to do the same, but instead we spent the day getting everything organised, getting cars ready, going to the hairdressers, last minute shopping, picking up flowers, debating whether underwear was required, squeezing into dresses, and it was all a giant pain in the arse, but I would still have rather been doing that, than watching the football.
So this leads me to Wednesday night, and a row with Glenn that got so horrible I ended up lying awake at 3.30am, looking at him passed out drunk next to me, thinking about where I could go if I just threw some clothes in a bag and left.
It really doesn’t matter what the row was about, I’m not going to talk about that now because a) it's nobodies business but ours and b) it was totally Glenn’s fault, and the problem with telling someone about a row that was completely one person’s fault is that the person you are telling always thinks ‘well that’s fine, but it’s just her side of the story and she’s not perfect, so it must have been at least a little bit her fault’, and you see, this time, for possibly the first and last time, it was not, in any way, my fault.
It was so not my fault, that yesterday, Glenn missed football so he could come straight home and sort things out, he bought me flowers from Marks and Spencer, a ‘Sorry’ card and a choice…
He is SO sorry, I can choose either of the following;
a) he will never drink again
or
b) he will only watch the football matches in the world cup that I want to watch.
Now we weren’t together during the last world cup, so he had no idea when he made this offer that I don’t care about the world cup any more than I care about any other football match that is ever played, anywhere, at any time, ever.
This gives you some idea of just how bad this row was, just how sorry he is, and just how much making up he has to do.
It’s really kind of a false promise, we all know that I wouldn’t pick option A because I like a glass of wine as much as the next person, and occasionally, I like to get so drunk my eyes cease to function in any useful way, I have difficulties remembering my name and sometimes I try on wedding dresses and launch myself out of windows. So that leaves me with no choice but to choose option B, and the problem with that is seeing it through, I mean there is genuinely not a single match that I have any desire to see, except possibly the final, and only then if England are in it, and probably then only the first and last 20 minutes.
I think really, it all comes down to how upset I am about Wednesday night, am I so upset that the feeling will last and no, there will be no world cup in our house and no, he can’t go and watch it anywhere else because I get to say what he can and can’t watch and I say no…?
… or, am I secretly a nicer person than you think I am, and will let it go and make sure he gets to watch the football he wanted to.
I have a feeling he thinks the latter, and although I’m sure he meant the gesture, he doesn’t think I’ll see it through…
… except that could backfire on him, because that could make me even more determined to make him pay…
Imagine, England win the world cup in 2006, and Glenn doesn’t get to see it because one night a couple of months before the final, he was so evil I got to ban it with no objection….
Wow.
Questions:
1. Am I that nice, or that evil?
2. How much is Glenn regretting a) Wednesday night and b) ever thinking that the flowers wouldn't be enough?
The lads got into their tuxedos at about midday and headed off to the pub to watch England vs. Argentina, they urged us to do the same, but instead we spent the day getting everything organised, getting cars ready, going to the hairdressers, last minute shopping, picking up flowers, debating whether underwear was required, squeezing into dresses, and it was all a giant pain in the arse, but I would still have rather been doing that, than watching the football.
So this leads me to Wednesday night, and a row with Glenn that got so horrible I ended up lying awake at 3.30am, looking at him passed out drunk next to me, thinking about where I could go if I just threw some clothes in a bag and left.
It really doesn’t matter what the row was about, I’m not going to talk about that now because a) it's nobodies business but ours and b) it was totally Glenn’s fault, and the problem with telling someone about a row that was completely one person’s fault is that the person you are telling always thinks ‘well that’s fine, but it’s just her side of the story and she’s not perfect, so it must have been at least a little bit her fault’, and you see, this time, for possibly the first and last time, it was not, in any way, my fault.
It was so not my fault, that yesterday, Glenn missed football so he could come straight home and sort things out, he bought me flowers from Marks and Spencer, a ‘Sorry’ card and a choice…
He is SO sorry, I can choose either of the following;
a) he will never drink again
or
b) he will only watch the football matches in the world cup that I want to watch.
Now we weren’t together during the last world cup, so he had no idea when he made this offer that I don’t care about the world cup any more than I care about any other football match that is ever played, anywhere, at any time, ever.
This gives you some idea of just how bad this row was, just how sorry he is, and just how much making up he has to do.
It’s really kind of a false promise, we all know that I wouldn’t pick option A because I like a glass of wine as much as the next person, and occasionally, I like to get so drunk my eyes cease to function in any useful way, I have difficulties remembering my name and sometimes I try on wedding dresses and launch myself out of windows. So that leaves me with no choice but to choose option B, and the problem with that is seeing it through, I mean there is genuinely not a single match that I have any desire to see, except possibly the final, and only then if England are in it, and probably then only the first and last 20 minutes.
I think really, it all comes down to how upset I am about Wednesday night, am I so upset that the feeling will last and no, there will be no world cup in our house and no, he can’t go and watch it anywhere else because I get to say what he can and can’t watch and I say no…?
… or, am I secretly a nicer person than you think I am, and will let it go and make sure he gets to watch the football he wanted to.
I have a feeling he thinks the latter, and although I’m sure he meant the gesture, he doesn’t think I’ll see it through…
… except that could backfire on him, because that could make me even more determined to make him pay…
Imagine, England win the world cup in 2006, and Glenn doesn’t get to see it because one night a couple of months before the final, he was so evil I got to ban it with no objection….
Wow.
Questions:
1. Am I that nice, or that evil?
2. How much is Glenn regretting a) Wednesday night and b) ever thinking that the flowers wouldn't be enough?
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Conversation
T: putting down the phone She just called me Chicken lickin’
Me: Who did?
T: J, she just called me Chicken Lickin’
Me: That’s because she’s mental and a bit weird.
T: What the fuck does chicken lickin’ mean?
Me: Oh my aunty used to call me that, it’s that story, you know, an acorn fell on his head and he thought the sky was falling so he went to tell the king and blah blah blah
T: Oh yeah! I’d forgotten about Chicken Lickin’, I used to read it to my little sister,
K: joining in I hated the end
Me: Eh?
K: You know, when he gets eaten
T: Yeah, that’s sad
Me: Sorry what? Chicken Lickin’ gets what now?
T and K: Eaten
Me: Uh, no he doesn’t.
K: Yeah he does.
Me: No, he tells his friends and then they explain about gravity and they tell him that, see, the sky is in fact, not falling, and he goes home feeling much better about the situation.
K and T: laughing No! He gets eaten!
K: He finds Henny Penny and Goosy Lucy and Cock Lock (and ha ha to that by the way), and they go to tell the king that the sky is falling but they come to a river and Foxy Loxy has to help them, so they get on his back but the river is rising so they get on his nose and the river is still getting deep, so they get in his mouth and he eats them!
B: shouting from an ajoining office No! That’s the ginger bread man!
Me: See! He doesn’t get eaten! It’s a clever story that teaches us about gravity!
B: No, he does get eaten, just not like that, I think Foxy Loxy tricks them into going back to his house or something and…
Me: Well, that’s not right, Foxy Loxy never had a house.
K: Ok, so Foxy Loxy doesn’t have a house, but he does know enough to teach Chicken Lickin’ about gravity, is that what you’re saying?
Me: I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, I do know that I have to have a conversation with my Aunt though, if you’re all so sure that it’s a brutal tale of Chicken slaughter and not an educational science story about gravity, then I think she may have twisted the ending somewhere along the line...
K: Definitely, my daughter loves the bit where Chicken Lickin’ gets eaten, I taught her to make snapping noises when he gets gobbled up.
Me: And your daughter is how old?
K: 18 months.
Me: You’re a terrible mother.
K: I know.
Me: Who did?
T: J, she just called me Chicken Lickin’
Me: That’s because she’s mental and a bit weird.
T: What the fuck does chicken lickin’ mean?
Me: Oh my aunty used to call me that, it’s that story, you know, an acorn fell on his head and he thought the sky was falling so he went to tell the king and blah blah blah
T: Oh yeah! I’d forgotten about Chicken Lickin’, I used to read it to my little sister,
K: joining in I hated the end
Me: Eh?
K: You know, when he gets eaten
T: Yeah, that’s sad
Me: Sorry what? Chicken Lickin’ gets what now?
T and K: Eaten
Me: Uh, no he doesn’t.
K: Yeah he does.
Me: No, he tells his friends and then they explain about gravity and they tell him that, see, the sky is in fact, not falling, and he goes home feeling much better about the situation.
K and T: laughing No! He gets eaten!
K: He finds Henny Penny and Goosy Lucy and Cock Lock (and ha ha to that by the way), and they go to tell the king that the sky is falling but they come to a river and Foxy Loxy has to help them, so they get on his back but the river is rising so they get on his nose and the river is still getting deep, so they get in his mouth and he eats them!
B: shouting from an ajoining office No! That’s the ginger bread man!
Me: See! He doesn’t get eaten! It’s a clever story that teaches us about gravity!
B: No, he does get eaten, just not like that, I think Foxy Loxy tricks them into going back to his house or something and…
Me: Well, that’s not right, Foxy Loxy never had a house.
K: Ok, so Foxy Loxy doesn’t have a house, but he does know enough to teach Chicken Lickin’ about gravity, is that what you’re saying?
Me: I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, I do know that I have to have a conversation with my Aunt though, if you’re all so sure that it’s a brutal tale of Chicken slaughter and not an educational science story about gravity, then I think she may have twisted the ending somewhere along the line...
K: Definitely, my daughter loves the bit where Chicken Lickin’ gets eaten, I taught her to make snapping noises when he gets gobbled up.
Me: And your daughter is how old?
K: 18 months.
Me: You’re a terrible mother.
K: I know.
Monday, May 08, 2006
NYC - Day Four
I should explain now that these diary entries were usually written over coffee the morning after the day I was writing about. This explains why Day Four is so short, because the night of Day Four was spent in a club in the meat packing destrict, and in Manhatten there are no such things as measures, they practise 'free pouring', which is genius, until the morning after.... So the morning of Day Five, when I wrote the following, was very unpleasant...
St Particks Day Parade - 150,000 people marching, Glenn Hearts Cheerleaders, V. Cold, V. Boring, Posh Americans claiming dubious Irish ancestry v. drunk...
Metropolitan Museum of Art - American Art, more modern art (Klimt, Klee, Picasso, Warhol!), had tour, very good, Frank Lloyd Wright room coooool.
Thai food - Yum
Irish bar in East Village - guiness, more yum.
went to some bars and club in Meat Packing Destrict (lotus) - no measures, free pouring, I really want to die right now.
That's it, that's all I wrote, I was in a very bad way the next day, I really want to tell this story though, when we were in Lotus, Glenn and Richard went to check out the upstairs and Catherine and I were chatting downstairs. Within seconds this guy comes over and starts asking us where we're from and can he have our 'cell phone number' (ha! so cool!), I glance up to a balcony and see Glenn and Richard watching us, they're stood next to two girls. Catherine spots them and we start sort of milking this guy's attention to wind the boys up, so Glenn says to the girl next to him "see those girls down there?" she says "yes", he says "they're our girlfriends", she nods, he says "can you wave at them for us?", she says "I think you should wave at them yourself!", he says "well you're no fucking help are you? Thanks for nothing".
Ever the charmer, the moral of the story; Free Pouring, at first it seems like a bargain, but there is a heavier price to pay than cash....
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Me: I have skittles! SKITTLES!
Him: You are on one today.
Me: I am just trying to be happy on a miserable thursday when I am stuck inside an office even though it's a beautiful day... Taste the rainbow! TASTE IT!
Him: You're a weirdo but I love you.
Me: Uh, thanks?
Him: You are on one today.
Me: I am just trying to be happy on a miserable thursday when I am stuck inside an office even though it's a beautiful day... Taste the rainbow! TASTE IT!
Him: You're a weirdo but I love you.
Me: Uh, thanks?
I'm Into Something Good - Herman's Hermits.
I have developed a new passion, rather like the way one of my colleagues is obsessed with the 'FWD' function in Outlook (LEARN YOUR FUCKING JOB YOU WASTE OF SPACE WHO IS PAID TWICE AS MUCH AS ME, I AM NOT YOUR BITCH), I have become enamoured with the 'Shuffle' function my Ipod.
I've heard people say that it's the one one function they never use, the humble Ipod is not a DJ, or a (searching for a word which describes a person who knows a lot about music... searching.... searching... finally settling on...) person who knows a lot about music, so you end up with a bizarre combination of tracks. There is possibly a way of selecting a category but I haven't got there yet, I have only just bought something to make it work in my car. I think it's great though, for the simple reason that it forces me to accidently come across music I never knew I had, I get 6 or 7 seconds into a track and I'm thinking, 'What IS this? When on earth did I buy THIS?' only to realise it's off a compilation CD that Glenn bought a few years back like 'Music to Watch Girls By', or 'The Sixties', but that's half the fun, I know I like all of it so it's like a little treasure trove I can dip into every so often to find something shiny and new.
I got tagged the other day, one of those list things you have to do; 'four jobs I have had', 'four foods I like to eat', and there was 'four things I can't live without'. I hadn't at that time got anything to make it work in my car so my Ipod was turning into a giant waste of money sat in my house and there was no reason to make it part of the list (also not part of the list was, uh, Glenn, yep, listed my mobile but not my boyfriend, I was not popular that night) but I think it will eventually sit pretty high on the list...
Four things I can't live without:
1. GLENN (are you HAPPY now?)
2. My family
3. My lovely, lovely friends
4. Mobile
Wow, four things does not leave you with much wriggle room, there's LOADS of stuff I can't live without....
5. Ipod.
6. Toilet paper
7. A toilet
8. my bed
9. my mums bread and butter pudding
10. My new bathroom floor, it makes me so happy. In the morning when I'm in the shower, I just sneak a peak around the shower screen and there it is, all new and on the floor - happiness is... grey slate tile effect laminate flooring, I just want to sit on it and stroke it all day, rather like what I would like to do to Johnny/Jake/David, but with the floor I actually can...
I've heard people say that it's the one one function they never use, the humble Ipod is not a DJ, or a (searching for a word which describes a person who knows a lot about music... searching.... searching... finally settling on...) person who knows a lot about music, so you end up with a bizarre combination of tracks. There is possibly a way of selecting a category but I haven't got there yet, I have only just bought something to make it work in my car. I think it's great though, for the simple reason that it forces me to accidently come across music I never knew I had, I get 6 or 7 seconds into a track and I'm thinking, 'What IS this? When on earth did I buy THIS?' only to realise it's off a compilation CD that Glenn bought a few years back like 'Music to Watch Girls By', or 'The Sixties', but that's half the fun, I know I like all of it so it's like a little treasure trove I can dip into every so often to find something shiny and new.
I got tagged the other day, one of those list things you have to do; 'four jobs I have had', 'four foods I like to eat', and there was 'four things I can't live without'. I hadn't at that time got anything to make it work in my car so my Ipod was turning into a giant waste of money sat in my house and there was no reason to make it part of the list (also not part of the list was, uh, Glenn, yep, listed my mobile but not my boyfriend, I was not popular that night) but I think it will eventually sit pretty high on the list...
Four things I can't live without:
1. GLENN (are you HAPPY now?)
2. My family
3. My lovely, lovely friends
4. Mobile
Wow, four things does not leave you with much wriggle room, there's LOADS of stuff I can't live without....
5. Ipod.
6. Toilet paper
7. A toilet
8. my bed
9. my mums bread and butter pudding
10. My new bathroom floor, it makes me so happy. In the morning when I'm in the shower, I just sneak a peak around the shower screen and there it is, all new and on the floor - happiness is... grey slate tile effect laminate flooring, I just want to sit on it and stroke it all day, rather like what I would like to do to Johnny/Jake/David, but with the floor I actually can...
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
First panic of the week
I have left my purse at home.
I don't have enough petrol to get home from here.
Sweaty goat balls.
I don't have enough petrol to get home from here.
Sweaty goat balls.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Unleashed and Empowered – My new hobby, and the other reason Glenn’s not gettin’ any.
BODYCOMBAT™ is the empowering cardio workout where you are totally unleashed. This fiercely energetic program is inspired by martial arts and draws from a wide array of disciplines such as karate, boxing, taekwondo, tai chi and muay thai. Supported by driving music and powerful role model instructors, strike, punch, kick and kata your way through calories to superior cardio fitness. .
And it kicks your arse, and you have no time to update your blog, which is annoying, but strangely, you feel better than you have in a long time. I have written a few times about wanting to get fit, lose five stone and transform into Kate Moss but hadn’t found a way to do it which fitted in with my laziness, my unwillingness to spend a lot of money and The Job. However, my boss has granted me a reprieve from the travelling for a couple of months, the gym had a ‘bring a friend’ offer which Moch got for me (£25 a month all in), and the evenings are lighter now which means I am less likely to want to crawl into bed the second I get home.
The first time I went to Body Combat I spent an hour not really believing I was there, the instructor was taking it very seriously (with such gems as "give me your tiger, GRRRRR!", "Where's your guard? If you ain't got your guard, you ain't 'ard!" and "WEAVE! WEAVE! We go undetected....."), and there were lots of routines which I didn’t understand, but eventually you realise that everyone in the class is so busy concentrating on getting it right themselves, no one could give a damn about what you’re doing. My personal favourite is the one where you punch the head of an imaginary person you are holding against the floor with your other hand, with every punch you have to shout “HEAD!” as loud as you can, and it’s done to a track where the main lyrics are “It’s time to die” or something like that. Honestly, I couldn’t have wished for a more dramatic form of exercise, it’s absolutely perfect!
I can highly recommend getting a gym buddy though, someone who you have to go with, so you can motivate each other, I am incredibly weak willed when it comes to keeping this up, especially at the level we have thrown ourselves in at, so it's massively helpful to have someone who will leave you answer phone message that say "We're booked on Body Combat, pick you at at quarter to eight, NO EXCUSES!". Am unsure what motivation I am providing her with as I mainly lie on the floor after the class spluttering "no... more.... want... to... die... leave... me... alone", but I can tell you that she's certainly helping me. Her and her Big Gym Pants.
So the plan at the moment is to do at least 4 classes a week, and a mixture of combat (cardio, cardio, cardio), pilates (tone, tone, tone), yoga (if I could just remember to breathe….), and then a bit more combat (cardio, cardio, cardio).
This time next year I am going to be America’s Next Top Model, which is Glenn's absolute favourite TV show in the whole world... can't think why.... Although I do regularly hear him shouting "It's all about YOU Tyra isn't it?! All about you!" at the TV.
PS. I have been doing this for four weeks now and have not the smallest clue what it means when it says that you ‘kata your way through…’.
PPS. Try not to feel too sorry for him, he is getting some…
And it kicks your arse, and you have no time to update your blog, which is annoying, but strangely, you feel better than you have in a long time. I have written a few times about wanting to get fit, lose five stone and transform into Kate Moss but hadn’t found a way to do it which fitted in with my laziness, my unwillingness to spend a lot of money and The Job. However, my boss has granted me a reprieve from the travelling for a couple of months, the gym had a ‘bring a friend’ offer which Moch got for me (£25 a month all in), and the evenings are lighter now which means I am less likely to want to crawl into bed the second I get home.
The first time I went to Body Combat I spent an hour not really believing I was there, the instructor was taking it very seriously (with such gems as "give me your tiger, GRRRRR!", "Where's your guard? If you ain't got your guard, you ain't 'ard!" and "WEAVE! WEAVE! We go undetected....."), and there were lots of routines which I didn’t understand, but eventually you realise that everyone in the class is so busy concentrating on getting it right themselves, no one could give a damn about what you’re doing. My personal favourite is the one where you punch the head of an imaginary person you are holding against the floor with your other hand, with every punch you have to shout “HEAD!” as loud as you can, and it’s done to a track where the main lyrics are “It’s time to die” or something like that. Honestly, I couldn’t have wished for a more dramatic form of exercise, it’s absolutely perfect!
I can highly recommend getting a gym buddy though, someone who you have to go with, so you can motivate each other, I am incredibly weak willed when it comes to keeping this up, especially at the level we have thrown ourselves in at, so it's massively helpful to have someone who will leave you answer phone message that say "We're booked on Body Combat, pick you at at quarter to eight, NO EXCUSES!". Am unsure what motivation I am providing her with as I mainly lie on the floor after the class spluttering "no... more.... want... to... die... leave... me... alone", but I can tell you that she's certainly helping me. Her and her Big Gym Pants.
So the plan at the moment is to do at least 4 classes a week, and a mixture of combat (cardio, cardio, cardio), pilates (tone, tone, tone), yoga (if I could just remember to breathe….), and then a bit more combat (cardio, cardio, cardio).
This time next year I am going to be America’s Next Top Model, which is Glenn's absolute favourite TV show in the whole world... can't think why.... Although I do regularly hear him shouting "It's all about YOU Tyra isn't it?! All about you!" at the TV.
PS. I have been doing this for four weeks now and have not the smallest clue what it means when it says that you ‘kata your way through…’.
PPS. Try not to feel too sorry for him, he is getting some…
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Length of Love
This could be destinyOh sweetheart
I've had no sense of time
Since we started
I got friends in need
Oh sweetheart
I've grown lengths and lengths and lengths of love
Since we started this thing out
Combat salacious removal
Combat salacious removal
There is a bitter breed
Oh sweetheart
They will be watching you sometimes
With their bitter hearts
But we are through with these
Oh we're shifting the heartache
We want strong summer love, the most robust blood
Just to stay awake
Combat salacious removal
Combat salacious removal
Combat salacious removal
Friday, April 07, 2006
NYC - Day Three
First of all, can I say, this is hard! I can't believe I'm only on Day Three! Does that mean I am lazy or very busy? I don't know, I think I'm very busy but that could be to make myself feel better about the laziness... who can say?! And the photo is the view of Long Island from across the Hudson River.
So we got up first thing and trekked down Fifth Avenue to the Empire State Building, we had been warned to get there early because the queue really builds up but luckily we managed to be on the 105th floor in about 20 minutes, which pleased Glenn no end, and that's a joke, because he hates heights and visibly shook the entire way around the top. He's actually been up there before and was going up again just for me so we must not laugh at his shakiness because he could have told me to do one. It was freezing up there but we tried to take our time and take some photo's, some man was shouting at his what looked like about 8yr old son to "STAND BACK FROM THE SIDE, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU FELL OFF?!" well if he wasn't thinking about it before.... there is a HUGE fence that goes way, way up all around the side so you would have to incredibly dedicated about doing it to actually fall off, and there are so many people around that I very much doubt even the most committed suicide jumper would manage it, but apparently there is nothing to match scaring the living shit out of your child.
Spectacular views by the way, but I guess you already had an inkling of that.
After the Empire State Building came my absolute favourite part of the day, if not the whole holiday, the Museum of Modern Art, there was a Munch exhibition on (they did not have 'Scream', but they did have 'Despair' and 'Angst', which are equally disturbing! So that was nice), there were countless works by Mondrian, Picasso, Matisse, Klimt, Dali, Hopper, Mark Rothko and Jackson Pollock. And one of my favourite paintings in the whole world, 'Christina's World', by Andrew Wyeth, it was tucked away in a corner somewhere and when I noticed it it just took my breath away.
Glenn is a bit gay and very much enjoyed Monet's 'Reflections on a waterlily pond', which is HUGE by the way, but it was a very big thrill standing right in front of it.
A lot of people hate modern art and I think sometimes it's felt that it doesn't take as much talent as more traditional pieces, but can you imagine being in the world, say, 100 years ago and seeing something like a Picasso for the very first time, a world that had never dreamt of Mondrian or Warhol, where does an artist like Picasso come up with the idea for something like that? With no point of reference, how does he think to do it? I don't agree with the idea that modernism is not as accessible as more classic art, surely it's the most accessible, because you can make of it what you will. What is it? It's whatever you want it to be, what do you think and feel when you look at it? That's what it is.
Anyway, blah blah blah and all that...
Munch's 'Portrait of Inger' freaked Glenn out so much he had to leave the room, which was very funny.
After MoMA, we walked down Fifth Avenue and attempted shopping for the first time which was a disaster of mythical proportions, turns out in New York, I am just all the wrong shape, looking back they have the same problems we have n the UK, no proper sizing system, the size 12 jeans slipped on easily in old Navy but I couldn't get them past my thighs in Gap. As say though, it's on reflection that I have realised this, at the time I was not rational and thought only of changing my name to Lardy McFatArse.
Sachs was beautiful, really, really beautiful but not for people like us..... I asked Catherine where the 'Sex and The City' type of women were to be found because I hadn't yet seen any of these uber stylish, wealthy types yet, she said 'Sachs, they're all in Sachs', and she was right! Except close up they're just frightening looking... Like an extreme version of the make up counter attendants in Debenhams, very orange.
Back at the hotel to have an hour off from it all and we discovered that American news reporting is bloody weird!
"A father goes to court today to seek to legally relinquish his parental rights, is he right to do so? Or an irresponsible jerk?"
I want to hear Anna Ford say that!
Another gem:
"Convicted of his parent's murders 12 months ago, new evidence comes to light during his appeal showing his father's business partner could be to blame"
And that poor sod is sat in front of the TV, innocently watching to news, only to find out he's the new suspect in a murder case...
Now according to the diary, we didn't do anything that night. I think that means that that's the night we had a row and Glenn stormed back to the hotel while I stood aoutside the Rockefellar Centre wondering what to do, but I didn't tell you about that, shhhhhhh......
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Saturday, April 01, 2006
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A thought.
Of all the diseases, in all the world, that I could have developed, little ones and big ones and life changing ones, and life ending ones and life dependant ones....
... Why couldn't I have developed something with just a teeny, tiny, bit more dignity?
I remember being terrified of a smear test, so mortified that someone was going to have to go down there and have a look around, that I didn't go for years and years, not until my mother made me.
The only thing I can equate my attitude to now is how I imagine a woman views these things post childbirth. My dignity is thrown to the winds. Come one, come all. Poke me, prod me, investigate me, violate me, I'll just lie here, staring at the ceiling, and it will all be over soon.
Smear test? Pah!
... Why couldn't I have developed something with just a teeny, tiny, bit more dignity?
I remember being terrified of a smear test, so mortified that someone was going to have to go down there and have a look around, that I didn't go for years and years, not until my mother made me.
The only thing I can equate my attitude to now is how I imagine a woman views these things post childbirth. My dignity is thrown to the winds. Come one, come all. Poke me, prod me, investigate me, violate me, I'll just lie here, staring at the ceiling, and it will all be over soon.
Smear test? Pah!
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
NYC - Day Two
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By the way, before I start this, can I greatly recommend Picasa, a photo editing application that I believe is made by the fine people at Google. It is free to download and the easiest thing to use ever, especially when cutting up photo's and injecting them with the daylight that was missing on the day the photo was taken. A lot of my favourite New York photo's now look like we went on a beautiful spring day rather than the PISSING FREEZING WINTER.
Anyway....
The second day of our holiday was the first full day we were there and we were determined to make the most of it. We decided to view the sight seeing as a kind of working arrangement so we were out the hotel every day by 8.30, back by about 6 and then out again at 7 for the evening. This was exhausting by the end of the week especially with all the walking you have to do to get around the city, but I honestly think it was the best way of doing things, I certainly never went to bed thinking I could have done anything more in the day, and that meant I went home happy.
We had won the batle with the jet lag and discovered that our local subway station was Grand Central Station, which was very cool. Turns out GCS is a lot smaller than you'd expect and not a great tourist spot as it's in the middle of a huge office filled area so is very much a working train station not best equipped for camera happy tourists. Very pretty though, the light shines through the crescent windows into the main area in the middle just like in the black and white images you used to be able to buy in Athena. I miss Athena.
The subway was horrible, really, it's cramped, smelly and the trains are really old. They don't seem to be far enough underground either, you can walk over grates in the pavement above ground and see the tracks through them, very disconcerting when the train shoots by underneath your feet... We navigated our way through the ticket buying system with the help of a lovely American man, don't worry, he did work there, I wasn't just randomly targeting American men for help... We bought a 7 day 'Fun' pass, which allows you unlimited subway travel for 7 days and proves that American's do in fact understand irony. As the train departed it lurched forward and a little old man shouted "SHIT!" so I began to inwardly panic, as you would do, that kind of oh sweet lord I'm going to die on the subway in New York sort of panic, but luckily another man shouted "Hey! Dude! Get your fuckin' ass outta my fuckin' way!" and I realised that actually, this behaviour was clearly pretty normal and would probably not result in death by underground rail system.
It seemed like we were travelling the world one Starbucks at a time when we emerged, alive, from the subway and found the nearest place that sold hot, strong coffee. What's odd is that there seems to be no other coffee house establishment over there, you can buy drinks from various deli places but there is no Starbucks equivalent like Costa or anywhere similar, Starbucks - officially taking over the world...
I asked Glenn to get me tea and he, confused by the different teas available asked for a medium cup of 'earl grey awake chai', the lady behind the counter was so confused and I was desperate not to laugh as I said "sweetheart, it's like a menu system? Just the 'awake' kind please..."
We sat next to two girls who looked suspiciously student like but were betraying their intelligence by perfecting their Paris Hilton impressions, I listened to their conversation and silently vowed never to litter my vocabulary with unnecessary 'like's ever again. Glenn looked at me, leaned forward and whispered "if I had a gun right now...".
We were in the financial district, the subway stops either right next to Ground Zero or one stop before it, at City Hall. We decided to get off at City Hall and have a look at that (big. old. City Hall like) and then have aforementioned earl grey awake chai before we made the final decision as to whether or not to visit Ground Zero. The truth is, if you're in that part of town, you can't really avoid it, New York is not that big and the financial destrict is just one part of it and the World Trade Centre was a huge part of that so how ever you end up near there you can't miss it. It's a huge, huge hole, no news footage or photographs I have ever seen had captured the sheer size of the footprint the terror attacks left in the city. We didn't take photo's, I couldn't justify that, after all, what are you taking a photo of if you do? We went into St Paul's Chapel which is one of the oldest pre-civil war buildings in the city and remarkably survived the attacks despite it's close proximity to the site. The chapel became a refuge for rescue workers during the aftermath and now has a tribute display to those who died and those who worked through it. I think that helped for me, you can't help but get emotional when you see the footage again, especially when you're standing where it happened but the tribute in the chapel really emphasises how people in the city came together in the following days and pays tribute to the strength of the human spirit. The fences that surround the site have placards telling you what happened on September 11th, they have included the names of the people who died on the aeroplanes that crashed and in the Pentagon. I'm not being dramatic when I say the feeling around the world trade centre site (that's what New Yorkers prefer that you call it, they find 'ground zero' offensive) is different from anywhere else, it's much quieter and I wasn't comfortable staying for long.
So we trekked to Battery Park after buying me a stupid woolley hat from Century 21 and went to the Jewish History Museum. There really isn't much I can say about that, you are either interested in the history of the Jews or you aren't. It's a very big and very expensive looking museum that tells you everything you ever wanted to know about Jewish history, the Jewish faith and culture, and the Holocaust. I have been fascinated by Judaism since I read 'My name is Asher Lev' by Chaim Potok for a module I took at Uni called American Jewish Fiction, so for me it was great but you know, if you've never given a toss then don't go. The Jewish History Museum - Does exactly what it says on the tin.
Side Bar - My sister asked me to buy her a 'I heart NY' T.Shirt, the museum had one that said it in Yiddish, I soooo wanted to buy her that.... The look on her face would have been worth anything it cost. Glenn wouldn't let me. Because he is a grumpus.
Favourite part of Glenn's day so far - The hot dog at the cafe in the Jewish museum that overlooked the Stature of Liberty and Ellis Island, and let me make that clear, his favourite part of that was the hot dog, not the view.
We took some advice then and instead of queuing up for the ferry to Liberty Island (Wow! $15 so I can freeze my arse off walking around the Statue of Liberty? Oh Goody!) we took the FREE ferry to Staten Island which passes very, very close to the Statue and best of all, HAS A ROOF! I sent Glenn outside to take photo's (which is probably why my mum has given him a new nickname; 'Poor Glenn') and we watched Manhatten Island get smaller and smaller. When the ferry got to Staten Island we were at a bit of a loss, I mean, what's on Staten Island? So we got off the ferry, walked across the harbour and then I said, for I believe the first time, something which was to become my catchphrase throughout the holiday; "Where the FUCK are we going? Because it is TOO BLOODY COLD to be just walking around AIMLESSLY, I am just. fucking. FREEZING!", so Glenn made an excellent judgement and we got back on the ferry to Manhatten. I think he bases these judgements largely on how wide I open my eyes when I am shouting at him, when the veins begin to bulge it's time to move on.
Manhatten looked amazing on the way back though, the skyline is like every movie set in New York you've ever seen, only better.
The next thing I've written in the diary is - 'back to hotel, freshen up, go to Madison Square Garden to watch New York Knicks vs. Atlanta.... something.....'.
The Atlanta Hawks! We went to Richard and Catherine's apartment on Madison Avenue (so. incredibly. jealous.) and then headed to the garden (as they call it in NYC, oh yeah), it was so cool! I was a total arse! Screaming and yelling and basketball is soooooo much better than football, I mean I know I hate football (more with every passing match of the fucking day, and that's false advertising by the way, it's not one match, it's like 15 or something, I will grow old and die while match of the day is on) but it's better, it's faster, they score every couple of minutes and every time they do the whole stadium goes wild! I have never seen a basketball game in my life before and I hold no allegance to any team but for that night I was a Knicks fan, as I was in New York, and I went mental. Each basket (not penalty) is worth 3 points and the final score was something like Knicks 111, Hawks 108 after three lots of extra time so it was really nerve racking and when the Knicks won, I nearly lost my head I was so happy.
I have also decided that when I grow up I want to be a cheer leader because they are AWESOME, the Knicks have the Knicks City Dancers. And I love them. Half time entertainment was Biddy Ball, where 2 teams of under 10's played a very short match, which must be such a thrill for them, in a packed Madison Square Garden for goodness sake! and there was a proposal on the big screen and people dancing in front of the camera's. They just really know how to entertain, it was a really, really good night.
By the way, America, Land of the Free, is also Land of the Commercial. The game was brought to us by a Multiple Sclerosis charity and Biddy Ball was brought to us by Malaria.
Glenn let us get a cab back to the hotel, which he hardly ever did all week because we had our 'Fun' passes and "why should we pay twice to get somewhere?", so that's a whole other reason why the 'Fun' passes WERE NOT FUN AT ALL, but I have to say, hailing a cab on Madison Avenue? Oh My God, just the biggest dream come true.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Those of you who don't particularly enjoy hearing about icky diseases should just stop reading...... NOW.
This afternoon I had an appointment to see my consultant gynaecologist, the one who filled my stomach full of gas, poked a hole through my belly button, stuck a camera in there and then moved my ovaries without permission so he could look behind them.
I fear him.
I told him things that I don't want to tell you and he asked me questions that I don't want to tell you and I gave him answers that I don't want to tell you and all in all it was a fun conversation! He examined me.... I yelped, and not in a good way.
All in all it boils down to this, he first examined me 2 years ago, and after the laparoscopy, he diagnosed me with moderate to severe endometriosis. Then just over a year ago, after 3 months of Prostap and HRT, he reduced the diagnosis to just moderate and advised I stay on the Prostap for another 6-9 months. Today he said that after examination, the disease has come back with avengeance and I'm straight past moderate and into the far side of severe. I wish this was just something I was dramatically over playing to get a reaction, or attention, or whatever people who pretend to be worse off than they are do it for, but I'm not. He is referring me to another consultant at another hospital, who will, in his words "try and cut it out". So I'm on another waiting list, for another operation.
Through all this, I'm very aware that no operation does anything to stop the progression of this disease, that all they can do is hold it back with medication (tried that) or cut out what it produces (apparently about to try that).
Did you see that documentary about a little village where adults with special needs live together? (IT'S SLIPPY JOHN!) And there was that man who could only ask questions, he couldn't hold a conversation, if you asked him a question he would only say a colour in answer?
Today is not black, I would not go that far, I don't have special needs or live in a special village, but it's certainly blue.
I fear him.
I told him things that I don't want to tell you and he asked me questions that I don't want to tell you and I gave him answers that I don't want to tell you and all in all it was a fun conversation! He examined me.... I yelped, and not in a good way.
All in all it boils down to this, he first examined me 2 years ago, and after the laparoscopy, he diagnosed me with moderate to severe endometriosis. Then just over a year ago, after 3 months of Prostap and HRT, he reduced the diagnosis to just moderate and advised I stay on the Prostap for another 6-9 months. Today he said that after examination, the disease has come back with avengeance and I'm straight past moderate and into the far side of severe. I wish this was just something I was dramatically over playing to get a reaction, or attention, or whatever people who pretend to be worse off than they are do it for, but I'm not. He is referring me to another consultant at another hospital, who will, in his words "try and cut it out". So I'm on another waiting list, for another operation.
Through all this, I'm very aware that no operation does anything to stop the progression of this disease, that all they can do is hold it back with medication (tried that) or cut out what it produces (apparently about to try that).
Did you see that documentary about a little village where adults with special needs live together? (IT'S SLIPPY JOHN!) And there was that man who could only ask questions, he couldn't hold a conversation, if you asked him a question he would only say a colour in answer?
Today is not black, I would not go that far, I don't have special needs or live in a special village, but it's certainly blue.
Friday, March 24, 2006
NYC - Day One
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These daily diary entries are a bit bitty, some are longer than others but I thought I would start to wade through the confusion and try and share with you a little of out New York adventure.
I will begin with photographic evidence as shown above. That there is the Chrysler Building, and the photo is taken from the top of the Empire State Building, which by the way, is much more stable than the Eiffel Tower. No shaking in time with the wind up there, no, just sheer terror at the how the cars are so very teeny tiny, all the way down the 86 floors you've just travelled up.
Anyway, that was later, this is supposed to be day one, and day one was all about getting there. We flew with Virgin Atlantic and had the smoothest check in ever thanks to their online check in service which you can use 12 hours before departure. We boarded the plane, avoiding the stairs up to the section marked 'not for the likes of you'. Glenn was VERY excited about the onflight entertainment and spent the first half an hour reading the film guide while I studied every last detail of the safety manual - 'TAKE OFF HEELED SHOES', 'EMERGENCY EXITS TO THE REAR AND CENTRE', 'OXYGEN MASKS WILL DROP FROM ABOVE', I had already sent messages to my nearest and dearest and was sat, seat belt fastened, ready to die.
Then we moved seats because my TV thingy didn't work, and that was fine because the strange too-old-to-be-a-goth-but-was-a-goth man next to Glenn kept talking to him and if there's anything Glenn doesn't appreciate, it's being talked to. So I repositioned myself, tightened the seat belt again and sat, ready to die.
And then I didn't die, which was surprising, instead I watched The Constant Gardner (brilliant), Prime (not so brilliant) and The Exorcism of Emily Rose (just really awful). The best part was being able to choose which variety of tasteless airline food I could have and THE FREE PRETZELS, that came in very tasteful american style packaging, which reliably informed us they were made in County Durham.
We arrived bang on time at JFK after some monster turbulance, watched the too-old-to-be-a-goth-but-was-a-goth get into an illegal, non-licensed taxi and said a little prayer for him. This was where my first preconception about New York was shattered - those chatty New York cabbies they have in the films? Don't exist. New York Cabbies are rather like London Cabbies, or Brummie Cabbies, that is to say they are mostly recent immigrants who don't speak very good English.
They do drive those yellow taxis though, and we drove into Manhatten past lots of clapboard houses in Queens, and through the Queensborough Tunnel (have you ever seen that Sylvester Stallone film 'Daylight'? I have, rubbish) . Manhatten is.... just... huge.... I have tried to think of other ways of describing it but tht's the perfect word, it's not big in length or width (steady...) but it stretches up into the sky... and then up some more... and then up some more... You can tell who the tourists are because they are the ones with bad necks from getting out of the cabs and just looking up into the sky. The architecture, the sheer height, that's where the action is.
Our hotel (The Intercontinental Barclay) was in midtown and was very, very posh. A bit too posh for me, I felt like if I was allowed to have a room in a hotel like this then I should jolly well be allowed up those stairs on the plane... and they even let us check in early because I am a priority club member (lets face it, there have to be some perks to staying away from home so much). Our room on the ninth floor had a coffee maker in it which I thought was da bomb until I realised that that was because there was no kettle, ie; no tea, just coffee, this was to become a problem when we got home a week later, just a little bit addicted to the caffeine now... As cool as the coffee maker was though, what was not so cool was the 'Break In Case Of Attack Glow Stick' that was in the bed side drawer next to the bible.
In the diary next I have written 'Battle with jet lag commenced! Walked to Central Park not far away, central park very big... and very central... saw Strawberry Fields, the Dakota building and the 'Imagine' memorial, also saw young couple crying over it, yes, I agree, very sad, but not like you knew him... saw lake'
Apparently I was not impressed by the lake, I thought I was but there you go.
We headed back to the hotel via Times Square which is very impressive at night, during the day some of the specialness is lacking, I think it must all be in the lights, all that neon.
Next I've written 'back to hotel past Radio City - NO SLEEP! NO!'
Our hotel was a bit posh, as I've already said, and the nearest hotel to ours was the Waldorf Astoria which was just round the corner, I'm not bragging, I'm just saying that to illustrate how completely impossible we discovered it was going to be to eat a nice meal for less than, oh I don't know, A MILLION DOLLARS. So we began our New York culinary experience in an Irish pub where I found out that if you order steak rare, they bring you a large cow, and you nibble on it's bottom for a bit before you have to give in.
Portion Sizes + America = HUGE x Glenn = Happiness.
We never went to that Irish pun again, not because we weren't happy with the service or food, but because we realised the next day that we hadn't tipped enough and if we were to ever go back they would mostly likely vomit on our food. Always tip 15-20% and they pretty much never automatically add gratuity to your bill like they do here, you have to add it yourself.
Back at the hotel we made it until 9pm, which our bodies thought was 2am, having been up since 6, so we went to sleep...
V for Vendetta
I can't write about politics, I've tried and reading it back I just end up sounding either pious or just a little bit stupid. So I'm not going to write about the political aspects of the film we saw this evening, except to say that it confused, frightened and inspired me. I'm not so stupid as to see it as a realistic interpretation of any western nation's future, but I like to think that I would be one of those in the masks during the film's final frames.
In the meantime, if you would like to read a proper review, I can direct you here;
http://www.pajiba.com/v-for-vendetta.htm
It's a great review.
In the meantime, if you would like to read a proper review, I can direct you here;
http://www.pajiba.com/v-for-vendetta.htm
It's a great review.
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