One more Vanessa, please.

Andrew Collins in The Word says Cagney & Lacey were American TV's first female detectives. So what were Pepper Anderson, Christie Love, Eve Whitfield and Julie Barnes, transvestites?

Cindy/Vanessa time again.

Cindy: The news that Intrada is releasing an Amazing Stories soundtrack. I know this means about as much to a lot of you as baseball does to non-Americans, but for film music fans it's like Christmas in June; we're talking an all-star lineup of composers on this disappointing Spielberg show, and we're not just talking a rerecording of two scores, but a big-ass two-disc set with complete scores and more to come. I may just break my rule of not ordering anything while I'm between lodgings and spring for it.

Vanessa: The fact that I now have to buckle down and search for somewhere. Sharon won't put up with me forever, and I'm already going to miss my original target of the end of the month. Move it forward to the end of June... at the very latest.

Cindy: Heroes making the grade for the new season on NBC! Which means not only does Greg Grunberg get a series not linked to J.J. Abrams; not only does Adrian Pasdar return to weekly TV after excelling as Jim Profit; but when this series gets picked up by a British broadcaster, as it almost certainly will, I'll get to check out Hayden Panetierre every week. (Until it gets cancelled. And unless she gets recast like when Lori Rom bailed out of playing Phoebe Halliwell.)

Vanessa: Mission: Impossible III. I knew I shouldn't have gone to see it. Not least because I lost five pounds at the cinema. (Of course, Keri Russell's brain vaporising didn't help. Ditto the trailer for Miami Vice. It fits that the abbreviation for NBC Universal Television Studio is NUTS.)

Cindy: Jen and the Archivist making up. :)

Vanessa: People on The Superficial talking utter, utter shit about my Cindy. Dung beetles.

Cindy: Anezza. I know I mentioned her last week, but she's the first person at work who I've genuinely fancied since Karen. But with my luck, she'll probably turn out to like girls. Still...

Vanessa: Irena. Yes, I mentioned her as well, but anyone whose reaction to hearing Akon's "Lonely" is not "FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY TURN THAT SHIT OFF!!!" deserves to be attacked regularly.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an album to seriously think about ordering.

So the others don't feel left out, one each.

(Mike... you already have Rachel on your blog. Sorry.)

Amazing woman indeed.

It's about time the Cindy Spot actually had an image of her, no?

And now a word from our executive producers.

With thanks to YouTube for all but the first.

She's endorsed beer there as well, you know.

Well, er... it has her first Diet Coke ad.

Can I watch?

Why do we need the bald guy in the middle?

She works hard for the money, pals.

The update of the weekend.

Cindy: The best kind of work day. One where we're allowed to leave early. And on a Friday too, after the adorable Anna won the first Employee of the Month contest. She deserved it too - friendly, knows her job, first in after me in the mornings... if only she was Anezza's identical twin she'd be perfect.

Vanessa: Irena. One of the longest-serving of my DMWorks colleagues has now officially completed her transformation into a Vanessa candidate. I don't know if it's age or what, but now that Esther's gone off to work in a Sainsbury's she's successfully taken over her position as the most annoying person at work - her habit of stating the bleeding obvious at every chance, her referring to people sitting in Esther's ex-chair as "Esther," her limited choice of music to play endlessly suggesting she's bent on trying out to be the Chilton school paper's music critic (the job Paris refused to give Rory and handed to another girl who, as Rory argued, "has two CDs"), the fact that she has awful taste... one of these days. I swear, one of these days...

Cindy: Rihanna conquering America. Never mind British artists not getting to #1 over there every other week like in the mid-1960s, when was the last time a Barbadian did it? Let alone a Barbadian female? Let alone a hot Barbadian female? Too bad about that duet with Sean Paul, but hey, congratulations... makes up for years of other overrated, obnoxious and/or boring Jamaican men getting all the glory.

Vanessa: Screwing up the recording and missing Lost on Tuesday night. This is why someone invented repeats. But I wanted to see it on Tuesday, dammit! And just to rub it in, The Book of Daniel did tape but Hayden Panetierre isn't in the pilot. Curses...

Cindy: Slowly but surely making headway on ye olde stories. Give me two more weeks and I can return to Cindy Inc. Now how about learning to write with pen and paper again?

Vanessa: Half Britain's TV critics and viewers getting pissy about Lost not bothering to wrap everything up. I can't believe people actually expected them to; and as Desperate Housewives is currently demonstrating, you should be careful what you wish for.

Cindy: The Damon Lindelof to La Crawford's J.J. Abrams hosting the MTV Movie Awards.

Vanessa: Nah, let's end it on a positive note this week...

Bonus Cindy: My dad turns 63 today, and he's taking an early retirement. If you're reading this, you earned it, Dad. (And, uh... about some of the links... would you believe they were here when I got here?)

A time to be silent and a time to speak

...and a time to be tagged.

From Kira's Slave:

I AM: I said, to no one there... actually, I'm Victor. But sometimes no one hears at all. Not even the chair.
I WANT: To be able to adjust to things quicker.
I WISH: That I had taken my mum's advice and not gone to a different school from my sisters.
I HATE: Being late.
I MISS: Not being diabetic.
I FEAR: Dogs, rats, falling, self-injury...
I HEAR: Too much stuff I'd rather not.
I WONDER: If Jen would meet up with me if she ever came to London.
I REGRET: Far too many things to list here. But not writing to my parents more often, embarrassing myself at a fete years ago, lusting after Page 3 stunner Keeley Hazell and BBW escort/porn model Devin Taylor when I know I shouldn't and realising that I forgot to set the video for Summerland today will do for starters.
I AM NOT: Thin. Or going to the 2012 Olympics, whatever Tom thinks.
I DANCE: Better than Whitney Houston. Then again, paraplegics dance better than Whitney Houston.
I SING: When I'm by myself, and only when I'm by myself.
I CRY: When I can't cope. Or when I'm incredibly relieved. Or sad.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: Resistant to temptation.
I MAKE: Pasta and cheese.
I WRITE: When I can, a little at a time.
I CONFUSE: Myself, fairly often.
I NEED: Money and, like KS, inspiration.
I SHOULD: Be more self-confident.
I START: Quite early in the morning.
I FINISH: When I can't go on any longer.
I TAG: All the linked bloggers who haven't responded already.

Reason to hate boybands part several zillion

On May Day I went to see Ice Age: The Meltdown; not as good as the original, which I've seen a few times (including once on a plane dubbed in Portuguese, which is still better than watching Daddy Day Care in English), but okay enough... until the closing credits came up.
In recent times, Fox and DreamWorks have done some customizing of their animated movies for English-speaking non-US territories, with Fox doing a better job initially (Shark Tale was already excruciating enough without GMTV's super-irritating Fiona Phillips dubbing over the voice of Katie Couric, whereas Terry Wogan doing the villain's dad in Robots wasn't a misstep), but tack-on pop songs didn't work with Robots and worked even less here, with most of the score suite over the credits replaced by a song from Lee Ryan. Ex-member of Blue Lee Ryan. Talentless, brainless dickhead Lee Ryan. Song that doesn't even begin to fit in with the rest of the movie and which isn't on the CD Lee Ryan. I'm going to be sick.
No, I'll just list other painful cinema experiences.* That'll be better.

Five Other Experiences In Cinemas That Made Me Want To Shoot Somebody:

1. Thunderbirds. Pro: Seeing it for free at a preview screening. Con: Seeing that the print had most of the end credits removed, making it feel as if I was watching a movie on FTA television and capping an already excruciating morning at the movies.
2. Super Mario Bros. And any other movie based on a video game, but this was the first one I saw.
3. Mary Reilly. As part of the day I went to see four movies (Jumanji, this one, Strange Days and GoldenEye); the projection went wrong and it had to start all over again from the beginning. They shouldn't have bothered.
4. Billy Bathgate. Someone had taken the scissors to it and cut out all of Nicole Kidman's nude scenes, thus making an already boring movie even more boring.
5. Chicken Little. Two words: Squalling. Baby.

*If Jen is reading this, a cinema is a large building which projects movies on a screen somewhat larger than a TV set, with better sound.

You wait for ages and you get two at once...

The Dubliners' recording of "Seven Drunken Nights" is a wonderful drinking song which, as taped by me years ago, only totals five. Having finally tracked down the complete lot online (though not on record), it would be remiss to pass up this opportunity for a blogging.

As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?
Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see
That's a woollen blanket that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see
They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in Geranium pots I never saw before

And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be
Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before

The last two verses, one:
And as I went home on Saturday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two hands upon her breasts where my old hands should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them hands upon your breasts where my old hands should be
Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see
That's a lovely night gown that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But fingers in a night gown sure I never saw before

As I went home on Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a thing inside her thing where my old thing should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that thing inside your thing where my old thing should be
Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But hair on a tin whistle sure I never saw before


Version 2, basically same as one until...:

As I came home on a Saturday night, as drunk as drunk could be
I spied two hands upon her breasts, where my old hands should be
I called to my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me,
Who's hands are these upon your breasts, where my old hands should be?
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, still you cannot see
'Tis nothing but a Living Bra Jane Russell gave to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more,
But fingernails on a Living Bra, I never saw before.

As I came home on Sunday night, a little after three
I saw a thing inside her thing where my old thing should be
I called my wife and I said to her: Would ya kindly tell to me,
Who owns that thing inside yer thing wehere my old thing should be?
Oh you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, still you cannot see,
Twas nothing but a hammer that me mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled, a hundred miles or more,
But a hammer with a head like that I never saw before.

There's also one that involves Englishmen and their inability to go on for three hours, but I've confused myself already. (The song? I'm sure you can hear it somewhere...)

No way is she just not into him...

Should I be jealous, or creeped out?