Monday, November 5, 2007

Sunday matinee: The talk of the town

After the Sinister Affair of the Ethiopian Chicken and the Kitchen Explosion (see previous entry) mum and I felt it was time to settle down for the Sunday matinee. This week it was The talk of the town, a 1942 Frank Capra film with Cary Grant, Jean Arthur and Ronald Colman. I'm having a bit of a Jean Arthur festival at the moment - she's becoming my favourite screwball actress. A spunky, no nonsense working girl with a raspy voice and great legs - who was also notoriously publicity shy, suffered from stage fright and lacked confidence in her abilities.
Film reviewer Charles Champlin wrote the following (+ I pinched it from the wikipedia Jean Arthur entry):

To at least one teenager in a small town (though I’m sure we were a multitude), Jean Arthur suggested strongly that the ideal woman could be — ought to be — judged by her spirit as well as her beauty…. The notion of the woman as a friend and confidante, as well as someone you courted and were nuts about, someone whose true beauty was internal rather than external, became a full-blown possibility as we watched Jean Arthur.

Love the lady.

Gunpowder, treason + plot (task 7)

Guy Fawkes Day - the 5th of November and the perfect day for paranoia.

Take this weekend.
I live in a 1930s batchelorette flat. The kitchen is the size of a peanut. My mum and I were in there testing each other’s personal space and trying out a new recipe for the Sunday roast: chicken with Ethiopian herbs and spices. All of a sudden – a tremendous bang and WHAT WAS THAT????

We must have been cooking up a storm because the stove lighter had exploded and ricocheted across the room. Apart from any potential gas fire nastiness – where was the recipe?!!! Down from the ceiling floated the shredded remains but – and here comes the sinister part – guess what was missing? Yes, the part of the recipe that listed those 10 secret Ethiopian herbs and spices. Blown to smithereens. We would never cook this recipe again.

So while a little mystery in the kitchen adds a certain zing to your meal, online it can make even the sturdiest soul think there’s treacherous work afoot.
There are the sinister forces that slow down access to sites, prevent me from downloading applications and build a firewall fortress so high I can’t even see out. I begin to suspect a plot.

And to get anything done I need to tell a billion people who I am and where I live and what I do for a living. Gmail, work email, hotmail, yahoo, bloglines, blogger, flickr and facebook - I need logins for them all But how many logins do I need? Or more to the point – how many can I remember?

Sick of signing in, signing up, forgetting my lines. People, this is not seamless!

Funnily enough giving out personal details online are not the sort of things that make me paranoid (I’m more of a people whispering-in-the-bushes type). But if you look at my blog profile you’ll see I’m pretending to be an accountant from Afghanistan.

Havey cavey business indeed.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

What the hell is he doing up there? Using Task 8 to keep up to date

I have been asked for an update on my dancing neighbour. He doesn't come with an rss feed so I'll have to fill you in. (I've gone a bit youtubey for this so please remember to give the clips time to buffer)

So, the neighbour upstairs, not only a dancing man, but one given to belting out a tune now and again. This is generally rather good as he is quite partial to musicals. The problem is that he's a bit of a Lion King and I'm Marian the librarian. And sometimes, when he's properly practicing, I get to hear songs in great detail. Sometimes I have the opportunity to hear the one line from a song five times in a row. And then five times more. And then - but anyway, the song we are currently working on is a real ripper.

If you want to see some of the things I'm into that do come with rss feeds take a looksee at my links to the Chocolate & Zucchini foodblog and the Classic movies site or swing on over to my Bloglines page: