Is it any wonder I love them?
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Marriage and mayhem
I'm obsessed with many things at the moment (booking this blasted holiday, work, finding the recipe for Annabel Caramel's carrot cake without forking out £12 for the book, to name but a few), but I find my thoughts are increasingly drawn to Katie Price/Jordan and Peter Andre.
What has happened to me that I think their reality TV series is the best thing I've ever seen? I'm properly enthralled by it. Her boobs! His taste in clothes! Their non-tacky wedding! Her emergency emergency caesarian! Her lack of cellulite! His cheesy songs! His obsession with espresso! Her boobs!
I absolutely love them. I'm even considering buying Katie's autobiography (including the chapter "my love for Peter"). I hope they have armies of children together and that they take over the world, forcing everyone to have ridiculous boob jobs and wear baseball caps backwards and hoodies a la 1995 - and all to the tune of Mysterious Girl.
And I'm not even joking.
What has happened to me that I think their reality TV series is the best thing I've ever seen? I'm properly enthralled by it. Her boobs! His taste in clothes! Their non-tacky wedding! Her emergency emergency caesarian! Her lack of cellulite! His cheesy songs! His obsession with espresso! Her boobs!
I absolutely love them. I'm even considering buying Katie's autobiography (including the chapter "my love for Peter"). I hope they have armies of children together and that they take over the world, forcing everyone to have ridiculous boob jobs and wear baseball caps backwards and hoodies a la 1995 - and all to the tune of Mysterious Girl.
And I'm not even joking.
Monday, March 20, 2006
It's fun when I don't post much...
...because when I do, I actually have some vaguely interesting things to talk about.
Work-wise I'm on a roll. Had my fourth pitch in a row commissioned by a new magazine I've been working for and must say I am loving writing for them. I think I've hit my absolute niche with investigative pieces for 20/30-something ladies. I finished the celeb-related feature and even my stepdad (hi D!) who couldn't give a flying fling-flang about celebrities said he enjoyed it.
Right, I've blown my own horn enough. Now I'll blow Matt's (fnar).
The band put their demo online and it's causing something of a stir. As Craig David would say "check it out": http://lolajones.3wdl.co.uk
This has caused various conversations about "what we'll do if Matt gets offered a UK tour". Call us premature. Go on, I dare you.
Just in case Matt is destined to become a rock God (but let's face it, he'll probably forget to turn up to the stadium or get lost on the way) we've been attempting to spend more time together. We've been to a pink pub with a mad opera singer who jumps on your table and an impromptu family party that provided Eliott with his latest night ever thanks to the car breaking down and the wonders of "baby-foot" (or is it babby-foot?).
We've also decided to go on holiday. This is causing all manner of headaches because, if I was anal before I had a toddler to figure into the holiday-equation, I'm now uber-anal. Everytime I find a decent looking break I am compelled to research it to within an inch of its life and the reviews I find put me right off. Said reviews, however, are providing me with a top laugh. You can hear the voice of Caroline Aherne ("what did I say, Roy?") in every one.
Some highlights for your delectation:
"As for the food it was always cold - all the meat cooked you could have glued to your shoes as rubber soles"
"The entertainment was lame and only mostly for the Germans."
"Complaints that there are too many Germans is unfounded."
"The nightshift receptionist wielded a golf club as he made his rounds at night. "
"There did not seem to be enough cutlery or crockery, many, including ourselves had to drink tea out of cereal bowls!!!"
"The only thing I could eat was the ice cream, my friend on one occasion was nearly sick at the dinner table after trying what they call chicken curry."
"We took a limited amount of spending money with us and it was only by pure luck of winning the bingo (156 Euros) that we could afford to eat!!!"
And that's just for one hotel.
It's enough to put you off ever leaving Tooting.
Work-wise I'm on a roll. Had my fourth pitch in a row commissioned by a new magazine I've been working for and must say I am loving writing for them. I think I've hit my absolute niche with investigative pieces for 20/30-something ladies. I finished the celeb-related feature and even my stepdad (hi D!) who couldn't give a flying fling-flang about celebrities said he enjoyed it.
Right, I've blown my own horn enough. Now I'll blow Matt's (fnar).
The band put their demo online and it's causing something of a stir. As Craig David would say "check it out": http://lolajones.3wdl.co.uk
This has caused various conversations about "what we'll do if Matt gets offered a UK tour". Call us premature. Go on, I dare you.
Just in case Matt is destined to become a rock God (but let's face it, he'll probably forget to turn up to the stadium or get lost on the way) we've been attempting to spend more time together. We've been to a pink pub with a mad opera singer who jumps on your table and an impromptu family party that provided Eliott with his latest night ever thanks to the car breaking down and the wonders of "baby-foot" (or is it babby-foot?).
We've also decided to go on holiday. This is causing all manner of headaches because, if I was anal before I had a toddler to figure into the holiday-equation, I'm now uber-anal. Everytime I find a decent looking break I am compelled to research it to within an inch of its life and the reviews I find put me right off. Said reviews, however, are providing me with a top laugh. You can hear the voice of Caroline Aherne ("what did I say, Roy?") in every one.
Some highlights for your delectation:
"As for the food it was always cold - all the meat cooked you could have glued to your shoes as rubber soles"
"The entertainment was lame and only mostly for the Germans."
"Complaints that there are too many Germans is unfounded."
"The nightshift receptionist wielded a golf club as he made his rounds at night. "
"There did not seem to be enough cutlery or crockery, many, including ourselves had to drink tea out of cereal bowls!!!"
"The only thing I could eat was the ice cream, my friend on one occasion was nearly sick at the dinner table after trying what they call chicken curry."
"We took a limited amount of spending money with us and it was only by pure luck of winning the bingo (156 Euros) that we could afford to eat!!!"
And that's just for one hotel.
It's enough to put you off ever leaving Tooting.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Music and Cuddles
Work is taking over my life. It's official. Matt has started making this new sort of groany noise every time I start a sentence with "I've had another idea for a feature..." or asking him "how many investigative pieces do you think I'd need to write before I get nominated for an award?" (I know).
It's not my fault that magazine features about death and post natal depression aren't as rock and roll as, well, rock and roll. Wearing my supportive wife hat (which is less glamourous than my old supportive girlfriend headband, but equally appreciated), I went along to the studio (man) today where Matt's band were recording. I took Eliott who loved every moment of it. It was quite something to see a toddler confronted with all those knobs and buttons! The first thing he did when we arrived was lay flat on the floor in the middle of the recording room - you might say it was overwhelming for him.
Matt's band are currently rocking (they've seen the light at last), which is great. They might even try to "do something" with these latest recordings, which should be interesting. Although given the subject matter of my latest feature (Casualties of Fame), I shouldn't really be egging him on!
My Friday deadline is looming in every sense of the word. My interview last week was amazing (I'll share more details when the piece is published), but finding more case studies is really tough.
Did I mention work has taken over?
So, Eliott! Well, Eliott is tres gorgeous. Cuddles are the new schmoo, demanded at every touch and turn. We spent most of our bus journey from Wimbledon to Tooting this morning locked in a bear hug with him shouting "no, no, no" in my ear everytime I tried to let go (not that I wanted to, but people were staring). In an attempt to wean him off repeated viewings of Back to the Future (now known as "Bo"), we've finally got him bang into books; but as with all Eliott's "likes", we have to read the same books over and over and over again, morning, noon and night. Certain pages have to be skipped, actions have to be performed EXACTLY how he dictates and tantrums can only be avoided if a prescribed amount of zest and enthusiasm for Duck and his bloody missing Key are displayed (you don't even want to know).
Oh and his swimming instructor reckons he might be swimming without armbands before the end of the summer. Crikey. He really is the Boy from Atlantis. Without the Patrick Duffy leg.
It's not my fault that magazine features about death and post natal depression aren't as rock and roll as, well, rock and roll. Wearing my supportive wife hat (which is less glamourous than my old supportive girlfriend headband, but equally appreciated), I went along to the studio (man) today where Matt's band were recording. I took Eliott who loved every moment of it. It was quite something to see a toddler confronted with all those knobs and buttons! The first thing he did when we arrived was lay flat on the floor in the middle of the recording room - you might say it was overwhelming for him.
Matt's band are currently rocking (they've seen the light at last), which is great. They might even try to "do something" with these latest recordings, which should be interesting. Although given the subject matter of my latest feature (Casualties of Fame), I shouldn't really be egging him on!
My Friday deadline is looming in every sense of the word. My interview last week was amazing (I'll share more details when the piece is published), but finding more case studies is really tough.
Did I mention work has taken over?
So, Eliott! Well, Eliott is tres gorgeous. Cuddles are the new schmoo, demanded at every touch and turn. We spent most of our bus journey from Wimbledon to Tooting this morning locked in a bear hug with him shouting "no, no, no" in my ear everytime I tried to let go (not that I wanted to, but people were staring). In an attempt to wean him off repeated viewings of Back to the Future (now known as "Bo"), we've finally got him bang into books; but as with all Eliott's "likes", we have to read the same books over and over and over again, morning, noon and night. Certain pages have to be skipped, actions have to be performed EXACTLY how he dictates and tantrums can only be avoided if a prescribed amount of zest and enthusiasm for Duck and his bloody missing Key are displayed (you don't even want to know).
Oh and his swimming instructor reckons he might be swimming without armbands before the end of the summer. Crikey. He really is the Boy from Atlantis. Without the Patrick Duffy leg.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Big interview, big headache
I've got a MASSIVE interview to do tomorrow. I'm quite nervous, but tired enough that it won't affect my sleep. I sent questions ahead so that's one less thing to worry about. Still, my pants may be brown by 2.30pm.
I'm also trying to find case studies for the hardest feature ever (well, kinda). My head hurts with the effort. Have you been deserted by a celebrity? Please Lord, tell me you have.
Eliott is in full-throttle toddler mode with tantrums appearing on an hourly basis. He wants to walk everywhere now, which can be a Godsend (tired legs make for tired little boys) and can also be hellish. For example, I got a bit cocky and we walked to Tesco sans pram last week . The minute we got there he refused to walk any further. No pram, no phone, one huge bag of shopping and one 2st3lb child. I managed to get him halfway back by conning him into a round of his favourite game (chasing me down the street with a stick). My back is still feeling the remaining 1/4 of a mile.
He's also had conjunctivitus (aka "pink eye", folks - feel free to impress your friends with that tidbit), is getting his final four molars and has been banned from watching TV...forever. Oh the joys of Parenthood. We (Eliott and I) can be seen in this month's Practical Parenting, by the way. I wrote a piece about language delay. Still worrying about lack of words, but Eliott's two year check is almost upon us, so I guess we'll think about it again then.
Finally, the Oscars. Because they affect my life, obviously. I'm glad Crash won. I seem to remember I wrote at the time I saw it that it was "so good it made me feel sick". I'm standing by that analysis. I still haven't seen any photos of Jake Gyllenhaal at the "do", which is a travesty, but I'll console myself with the many pics of Reese Witherspoon's wonderful dress (clothes or men? The eternal question).
But most of all, I loved seeing BBC Breakfast's Dermot squirming on the sofa over the aggressive interviewing tactics of their roving reporter on the red carpet. "Jamie Foxx - talk to me! Never mind CNN - I'm from the BBC! Come on - you've got an album out in Britain next month!" Classic.
I'm also trying to find case studies for the hardest feature ever (well, kinda). My head hurts with the effort. Have you been deserted by a celebrity? Please Lord, tell me you have.
Eliott is in full-throttle toddler mode with tantrums appearing on an hourly basis. He wants to walk everywhere now, which can be a Godsend (tired legs make for tired little boys) and can also be hellish. For example, I got a bit cocky and we walked to Tesco sans pram last week . The minute we got there he refused to walk any further. No pram, no phone, one huge bag of shopping and one 2st3lb child. I managed to get him halfway back by conning him into a round of his favourite game (chasing me down the street with a stick). My back is still feeling the remaining 1/4 of a mile.
He's also had conjunctivitus (aka "pink eye", folks - feel free to impress your friends with that tidbit), is getting his final four molars and has been banned from watching TV...forever. Oh the joys of Parenthood. We (Eliott and I) can be seen in this month's Practical Parenting, by the way. I wrote a piece about language delay. Still worrying about lack of words, but Eliott's two year check is almost upon us, so I guess we'll think about it again then.
Finally, the Oscars. Because they affect my life, obviously. I'm glad Crash won. I seem to remember I wrote at the time I saw it that it was "so good it made me feel sick". I'm standing by that analysis. I still haven't seen any photos of Jake Gyllenhaal at the "do", which is a travesty, but I'll console myself with the many pics of Reese Witherspoon's wonderful dress (clothes or men? The eternal question).
But most of all, I loved seeing BBC Breakfast's Dermot squirming on the sofa over the aggressive interviewing tactics of their roving reporter on the red carpet. "Jamie Foxx - talk to me! Never mind CNN - I'm from the BBC! Come on - you've got an album out in Britain next month!" Classic.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
The enemy that is time
I never seem to have time to blog anymore.
It's a shame. I miss it. I am being a zillion times more productive without it, however - which can't be a bad thing.
It's a shame. I miss it. I am being a zillion times more productive without it, however - which can't be a bad thing.
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