The I Am Not Going To Be Watching For Nikki Faber So Shut It Post.

Sorry, TV critics, but they had me with Nashville the second the words "Hayden Panettiere" were mentioned. I never watched Friday Night Lights, so the journalistic boners a distressing number of you seem to have for Connie Britton (and which seem to be blocking your view of Hayden showing she can act) cut no ice with me.

And yes, I said Nikki Faber - she will always be known from Spin City in these parts.

Rant over.

The No Resolutions Post.

Ta-ra, 2010. Welcome, 2011. And I hope I can do better.

I hope I can manage to set the wheels of moving in motion and therefore get more space for my sister and myself. I hope I find out for sure whether or not the (non-fatal) condition I might have is what I think it is. I hope my finances can be more settled down. I hope I write more.

And above all, I hope I can be happier.

The 40 Winters Post.

I'm 40 today. I'm older than my parents were when they had me. And I'm... all right, I guess. Not in the mood for huge celebrations, but then I never am.

So should I talk about the past forty years? No, and not only because I can't remember that far back. So let's just... get on with it. It being life. I just wish it was snowing instead of being on the verge of raining.

Happy birthday to me, folks.

The Two More Working Weeks Post.

And then the working year is done for me. If only I hadn't been ill the past few weeks.

The It's Not You, It's Me Post.

Dear Lance,

Sorry for not updating your part of the Remaining Inhabitants bit that often, but it takes a million years for your blog to download. Why do you have to put so much good stuff on it? :)

Seriously though, I'll check in more often. Swear.

Best regards,
Victor

The Pinch And Punch Post.

I'm open to returns.

The Why Are Some People Such Twunts? Post.

I didn't have time to see Obama's victory speech live yesterday, but I did get to see (and was impressed by) McCain's concession speech. And hear some of the boos - which I can understand; how do you think millions of people elated yesterday would have felt if the reverse had taken place? So the "twunts" thing isn't aimed at them.

It's aimed at people complaining about the amount of press coverage on this side of the Atlantic; erm, it does happen to be a major world event (it's not like they were going all out to cover the Superbowl). It's aimed at the work colleague of mine who said before the election that he didn't think the US would ever elect a black president (right, because the history of Britain is filled with non-white prime ministers). It's aimed at those who felt that a lot of black people voted along racial lines (which I'm sure was true of some, but probably not all). And above all, it's aimed at the young Radio 1 listener who claimed this couldn't have happened without David Palmer from 24 - in which case there'll probably never be a female president based on Commander in Chief, Hail To The Chief*, the movie version of Whoops Apocalypse and Kisses For My President. (Not to mention "Bart To The Future" featuring America's first heterosexual female #1, President Lisa Simpson.)

It is not, however, aimed at my mum (who texted us to wish us a Happy Barack Day). Or Sharon. Or anyone else rightly thrilled at America finally getting payback for eight years of smug condescension from some quarters. A long road back, but it's started out well...

*For those who don't remember this shortlived sitcom with Patty Duke as the prez, lucky you.

The Go Away "The Go Away And Never Come Back Spot" Post.

I'm thin-skinned.

I'm also in a mood of not wanting to get negative in anything other than a hopefully non-biased, non-cranky way. Which is another way of saying that while I hate people dissing stuff I like, the thought of dishing it out on stuff other people like and not being able to take it bothers me. Weird, yeah.

So since petty annoyances are a source of stress and yours truly says no to drugs (apart from Metformin, Lipitor, and the other two that I have on prescription and that I can't be bothered to get up and check on their names because I'm listening to Dominic Frontiere's Hang 'Em High/The Aviator and have no desire to pause the CD thank you very much), that spot is out of here. It's history. It's gone. It's being replaced by a list of my favourite TV shows, current and out of production. Shallow? Pointless? And how is that not like 99.9999999% of blogs?

Incidentally, you know those most recent Laetitia Casta nude pics? I bought her last Elle off eBay, and they aren't in there - so were they online only? Pretty sneaky, Elle. The ones of her in the actual magazine are good though, even if she's clothed.

And now, here's some Laetitia to take us out. Yes, it's in French. Just deal.

The Strictly Come Dancing Fans Can Kiss My... Post.

Four random thoughts about Heroes making a welcome return:

1. Mohinder is a bit less useless now he has powers that he's put to good use (beating up robbers, shagging Maya etc). He could still stand to shut up though.
2. Wait... so Future-Peter Petrelli is on the loose in the present and Present-Day Peter Petrelli looks like Weevil from Veronica Mars? I think I got it now.
3. So Daphne (adding to the show's already impressive "Wow, she's a babe!" factor, grazie Brea Grant) stole the Mona Lisa and nobody heard about it? Oooookay...
4. Poor Claire. Poor, poor Claire. Like I said elsewhere, ironically both invulnerable and the most deeply wounded of the lot. Teach her well, Meredith.

Roll on next Wednesday. That is all. And damn the fans of the US version of Strictly Come Dancing denting Kring's ratings. Again. (Although Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles has more to worry about, I hear.)

The Pink Rhubarb Post.

Compare and contrast: The opening riff of Pink's "So What" and the theme from Roobarb.

Unfortunately legal problems mean no YouTube links, but search them out. That is all.

The Seventeen Things I Can't Get Excited About Post.

1. The Watchmen movie.
2. The Dark Knight.
3. Actually, I can't even summon up enough ire to continue this rant. That's how little I care. Meh.

The Are You Drunk? Post.

Feltz: Rosie O'Donnell, for telling Howard Stern that she couldn't do Cindy because she's a bit too perfect. Not something that could ever be said about Rosie (true colour personality aside, I still think whoever cast her as Betty Rubble has a lot of explaining to do).

Bonus Feltz: Whoever asked Cindy if Chace Crawford (aka Nate Archibald off Gossip Girl) is her son... only if she was knocked up when she was 20, and she definitely wasn't. Besides, and with all due respect to the guy at Saturday Confessions, he's not attractive enough to have come from her loins. At least they didn't ask her if the other Cindy Crawford is her daughter!

And now, to make up for the image of Rosie O'Donnell in the act, here's Cindy coming back from Panama on Omega-related business.

The Victorology Post.

Let others know a little more about yourself. Repost this with your name followed by “ology”.

TECHNOLOGY

Q: What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A: Cindy Crawford. Updated from time to time, obviously.

How many televisions do you have in your house?
Just the one. There used to be two, but Sharon let her boyfriend have the smaller one like the good 'un that she is.

BIOLOGY

Are you right-handed or left-handed?
Right handed.

Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
The odd tooth, and a big splinter from under a nail when I was a teenager.

What is the last heavy item you lifted?
I work in direct mail; I have to lift heavy items all the damn time. But yesterday it was the shutters to open the place up.

Have you ever been knocked out?
I may have fainted once; does that count?

BULL*OLOGY:

If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
Tough question. On the one hand if I knew then I could prepare for it so everything I want to do would be accomplished... or I could just become a quivering ball of indecisiveness and dread.

If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
Nothing beginning with the letter N, for a start. Or O, or P. I might go for Robert or Charlie.

What color do you think looks best on you?
Blue or brown.

Have you ever swallowed a nonfood item?
I sure hope not.

DAREOLOGY

Would you kiss a member of the same sex for one hundred dollars?
Depends what they look like.

Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for two hundred thousand dollars?
If it was the left one, possibly. Maybe even the right one. Depends, again.

Would you never blog again for fifty thousand dollars?
Yes. Pay up.

Would you pose naked in a magazine for twenty five thousand dollars?
Given that some very unattractive people have done nude spreads, possibly.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for a thousand dollars?
Probably not. Put the price up.

Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for one million dollars?
No.

DUMBOLOGY

What is in your left pocket?
Yesterday's Spanish/English calendar page. Long story.

Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
I haven't seen it, I wouldn't know.

Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
Carpet and some linoleum.

Do you sit or stand in the shower?
Stand.

How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
Zero.

LASTOLOGY

Last person who texted you?
FilmFan from GU about the Lost CDs.

Last person who called you?
Sharon.

Last person you hugged?
See above.

FAVORITOLOGY

Number?
4, 5, 7.

Season?
Summer.

Color?
Blue.

CURRENTOLOGY

Missing someone?
Anneza.

Mood?
Moody.

Listening to?
The sounds of silence (apart from humming, distant traffic, etc).

Watching?
The monitor.

Worrying about?
Everything.

Wearing?
Pyjamas.

RANDOMOLOGY

First place you went this morning?
The living room.

What can you not wait to do?
Fly somewhere.

Do you smile often?
It's been known to happen.

Are you a friendly person?
Not as often as I could be.

The 16 Days, Not Shopping Days, Just Days Till Christmas Post.

How to ruin two Fridays off in succession:

1. Have the first one coincide with our BACS payments going in late, leaving me skint until Monday morning. Maybe I should have it in monthly from next year... something to think about.

2. Be under a cloud all day thanks to my still not having gotten even a card for Mum and/or Dad with the postal deadline for the Caribbean being on the 7th. Gah.

Still, it's not all bad news. It's not heavily snowing yet, and I argue a lot less with Sharon than I used to years ago. Hope I'm mellowing out; that wouldn't be a bad thing.

So with the year winding down, I pay more attention to the news than I used to. And it sucks.

I clean my room as much as I used to (i.e. very rarely). And that sucks as well.

Sooooooooooooooooooooo...

The Yes, But What About Dania Ramirez? Post.

The forthcoming issue of TV Guide Stateside has the women of Heroes (well, three of them anyway) on the cover, and a fine cover it is too - one for the collection, and what surely qualifies as "excellent late night inspiration" (a phrase I heard an ITV2 continuity announcer use to describe Gena Lee Nolin at the end of an episode of Sheena, and it worked so perfectly I've never forgotten it). Which would probably not be the case if the women were Ashley Crow (Claire's adoptive mother), Cristine Rose (Angela Petrelli) and Adair Tishler (Molly Walker).

But this is the opposite of Radar magazine putting "Coming out" on its overrated list - on the surface that sounds wrong, but when they point out that being de-closeted puts you in the same company as the likes of Perez Hilton it's hard not to see what they mean. Similarly, there's nothing wrong with Hayden and Kristen sharing cover space, but this was a golden opportunity missed to spring newbie Dania Ramirez (who plays Dominican newcomer Maya in season two) on people.

Here she is at the Emmys. I mean, daaaaaamn.

And more importantly, since Heroes is a show where major characters are non-whites and non-Americans (whereas most of the villains are decidedly WASPs), including her on the cover would have been a win-win situation all round; Dania would have contrasted well with the others, the readers would have gotten more hotties for their cash, and it would have reflected well on the show's outlook. What say you, folks?

Which is not to say I don't want the mag.

Many thanks to my bosses, by the way, for paying me on Thursday instead of Friday. I hope this continues.

Right, so it's Wednesday...

...and things can't be better. Well, they can - what with shopping for food having to be done, and my right elbow being a bit achey. And with it coming closer to the time when Googling "heroes nbc" will be fraught with danger of spoilers again. Gah.

On the upside, it's only a month or so until High School Musical 2 arrives.

Okay, that's today's post done. Strictly to make up the numbers. See you tomorrow.

Random irritation time.

The next issue of Playboy (after the one Booch raced down to Borders to get what with Amanda Beard being in it) features a birthday-suit-clad Garcelle Beauvais-Nilon (NYPD Blue, Lindsay Lohan's forthcoming I Know Who Killed Me and a lot of TV shows that weren't shown in the UK like The Jamie Foxx Show, were shortlived like Eyes, or were both like The Opposite Sex and Models, Inc.). It's not her nudity that inspired this post, as I'm not interested in her really - it's that a post on BlackSista.com railed about her doing it, about how this almost never really boosts careers (which is true, and to their credit the blog pointed out it applies to white women as much as blacks - for every Pamela Anderson, Marilyn Monroe or Kim Basinger whose career was definitely given a major legup, there's a lot more than one Mercedes McNab or Gena Lee Nolin), how they make black women look bad (citing Robin Givens and Stacey Dash) and... er, I mean how they make Black women look bad, which is the term they used and bringing me to what really inspired this post.

The damn capitals.

Calling someone Black instead of black was a pin in my side years ago with Ebony and Jet, and times haven't changed. Okay, so the terminology is supposed to be signifying strength and meaning, but isn't that being divisive? Whites calling themselves Whites is fucking annoying, and so is this; it's not like there's a country called Black somewhere. That's one reason I stopped checking out black-obsessed papers, media, or whatever... it ain't helping, people.

Of course, there's another problem with this - it's that it isn't Gabrielle Union stripping off. Then I'd be a lot more interested, and this post would be a lot happier.

A few random irritations.

Grindhouse being split in half for the UK market following its poor US performance and the two resulting movies being released months apart. This is one of those times to be thankful for multiregion DVDs.

CSSA members Mr. Blasphemy (he's no Dr. in my book) and Catden. Pains-in-the-butt, both of them (the former a tasteless, grammar-murdering twit, the latter proof that age doesn't always bring wisdom); a jewel-studded shovel in the face cannot come their way soon enough.

Not having the VCR a-running when the end credits for H2O: Just Add Water come along without the usual annoying Nickelodeon promos for once. (YouTube has them with a Network Ten announcer, so no embedding.)

Flicking over to CNN to check out Monita Rajpal in Art of Life and being greeted by The Man in the Plastic Bubble instead. Actually, that allegation's unfair; at least the Boy in the Plastic Bubble wasn't deluded.

Hugging Anneza goodbye today. Because it was the first time I did it, and most likely the last.

300 words.

That's all I want to put on this post.

So. I'm bored. And boring. If I start to write something and I'm not in the least bit interested, just think how you reader (like I have multiple viewers) must feel.

The solution would be to lie. But that ain't something either. So...

Actually, it's all loose ends. I want to get through a post without mentioning Heroes, but now that's gone out the window. I could gloat about how the fuss about phone-in quiz shows has led to a long-overdue and probably only temporary removal of the spacewasters, but I can't be bothered. And there is no way I'm complaining about banks again. So let's just go all stream of consciousness. (120) Whatever comes to mind.

Hey, Dangerous Liasions is on. Not the one with Michelle Pfeiffer and Uma Thurman, the one made for European TV with Nastassja Kinski and Leelee Sobieski! And Catherine Deneuve, but you gotta take the rough with the smooth. At least there's no Pacey from Dawson's Creek with an awful dye job.

Hearing about Stargazerz member Zahir losing his fiancee truly sucked. The poor guy.

Ditto John Inman from Are You Being Served? There was a calypso years back about the show; can't find a link to it anywhere. (That was Barbados for you - also ditties about Sanford and Son and J.R. Ewing.)

I hate overeating.

The phrase "Best of British" sets my teeth on edge. Where does this place get off calling itself "Great Britain"? At least the US doesn't call itself "Great America." Alliteration is, sometimes, evil.

I also hate charity telethons. Almost as much as I hate parades. Comic Relief is next week. I shall be sure to be out of the flat on that night.

Why was yours truly not informed of Patricia Araujo working in London earlier? (287)

And with only ten words left - no, wait, now it's three... two... done!