Daytime delights.

So, Week 0 approaches inexorably. It looms over the horizon, a massive wave of maths and queer and debating and university and life and stuff and things to do. SO MUCH STUFF.

After trying to be manly about my illness (read: stupid), I decided to actually get medical advice. Incredibly painless, actually. They have a walk-in clinic. Opens at 8:30. You walk in, they take your name, and then you wait your turn to be seen. I waited about 5-10 minutes to be seen.

The doctor listened to me breathe, stuck things in my ears, made me say "aaahhhh", had a good look all over me, mumbled "39" and "bronchitis" and "here you go". I now have a course of antibiotics and instructions to have paracetamol every four hours to keep my fever under control. Apparently, 39 degrees is too hot for a grown up to be. In fact, it's too hot for anyone to be. (And I thought I was hot because of my parents' ludicrously warm house...!)

In total, this week, there have been four working days. I have worked four hours of these four working days. Grand total of £20 there. Spent a third of that on antibiotics, and probably spent the rest on soup and mouthwash and Ribena (I am drinking A LOT of Ribena.)

However, there are some upsides. For example, I have discovered Wogan's Perfect Recall. I quite enjoy this quiz show, actually. It's hosted by Terry Wogan (long term childhood crush, blame Eurovision) and the format is that you start of with 4 contestants, and the number whittles down in each round. Now, the answers are the same in every single round; it's the questions that change. So, if you can remember what the answers were, then you'll do quite well. Obviously, you need to be quick on that buzzer, etc.

I've taken to have two showers a day now. By the time it gets to about 2pm, I've been sweating so much that I just want to take another one (I take my first at 7:30). So, I'll be doing that. I think I'll wash my hair too. I'll make sure I dry it very very well, don't want to get even more sick.

Letters and numbers.

When I was applying for university, I had to write a personal statement, detailing how absolutely perfect I was for academic study. I started mine off like this:

From a young age, I have always had an interest in mathematics. Some of my earliest memories include sitting with my father practising simple arithmetic, being in a maths lesson in primary school, and the Numbers Game on Countdown!

(Yes, I was a bit of an ass. But I was 17.)

I used to adore Countdown as a child. It was my favourite thing to watch. I remember being extremely small, perhaps 4 or 5. I would wake up very early on a Saturday morning, 6:30 or so, and I remember watching Barney (yes, the purple dinosaur) and Countdown.

Richard Whiteley was like a father to me. Obviously, he was only around for an hour or so on a Saturday morning, but he was so smart and kind and led the show so well. And, there was Carol. I really wanted to be Carol, for years. In fact, when they replaced her, I did seriously consider applying for it, even though the show is based in Manchester, and there'd be no way for me to be able to actually get there on a regular basis. :p

My love of Countdown continued right through my teens, until Richard died. When I found out, I stopped watching Countdown for ages. I watched his final episode, and then I stopped watching. I couldn't imagine a Countdown without him. I honestly grieved.

I tried watching with the replacements, but eventually I gave up. They were all wrong. Richard always got the balance right. Sure, he was witty, but he was never trying to be the star of the show. It was always about the numbers and the letters, and occasionally Carol. I found some of the other hosts tried too hard to be funny, take the focus away.

I watched my first full episode of Countdown in five years today. The current host isn't too bad. There was a Northern Irish kid on the show, who was just incredible. Reminded me of a friend of mine - although I'm not sure of how good his letters are, I have no doubt he'd be killer at the numbers.

I enjoyed the new Carol, I think her name is Rachel. She's a pretty blonde Oxford graduate.

So, I might be watching a little more Countdown in future.

Bulging brides, snap solutions.

I've been watching a show about women who buy their wedding dresses a little too early, and snack like fiends, so they put on weight. Oh no! So two exercise demons from health hell itself come to get our "bulging" bride down to size before the Big Day.

The first time I saw the show, the lady was a former figure skater. She wasn't actually overweight! She was just a little plump on the hips, which isn't a sin. Worse still, her measurements were tiny, and they tutted over her having a butt worth a damn. Maybe Exercise Demon Girl was jealous because she has no boobs and boy hips.

The show basically encourages the brides-to-be to restrict their diet for six weeks, and combine that with really hard work outs. So, salad leaves for lunch, chicken with one teaspoon of rice for dinner, 5k run.

It's not sustainable. I know, it's not supposed to be. It's supposed to be a quick-fix to get you into that perfect shape for the day when all eyes are on you. But, I know that these women will immediately pile on all the pounds once they reintroduce all the carbs, cake and wine they missed out on their 6 weeks of hell.

How about a show when you say stuff like "Stop eating Doritos *all* the time. Just have a little bowl, and leave the packet in the kitchen".

Or perhaps "Eat less cheese, but you can still have it".

Shock, horror, you could even say "Cake is not banned! Just don't eat a whole cake."

I simply don't believe that you need to get rid of all cake and wine and pasta to be able to stay fit. To get a seriously athletic figure, I admit, you'll probably need to get yourself some sort of plan designed for $28123o by some Dr Whatever in London, or LA. But, if you're just a regular sort of person looking to be a size 12 again, I reckon cutting down on the bad stuff, not eliminating, would be sufficient, as well as exercising, of course.

I've got the first half down. I'm eating normal sized portions again rather than the huge American portions I ate Stateside. Most of my old favourites are back, but I'm not eating cream cheese every day (delicious sacrifice, sadface).

Now I need to get the exercise bit in.

~~~

Turns out the show Bulging Brides have a Wikipedia page. Something tells me that there may have been some editing here.

No woman wants to be a bulging bride! (except those women who are confident in themselves, and believe the marriage ceremony is not about looking like a pretty princess, but instead about two people joining their lives together)

Right on!

Would Channel Four please come to the diary room?

It's the end of an era. Big Brother first appeared on British screens in the summer of 2000. I was 11. I didn't particular watch it first time round, but I knew it was happening. And then, every year for the past 10 years, every summer, it's been there.

It's ending this year. I mean, it had to, really. The format was tired and old, peaking in popularity sometime around 2004. It's the perfect example of what the first decade of the new millennium offered to television: voyeurism. For the first time, we all had the technology in our homes, offices and phones to watch 24 hours a day what someone was doing. What's more, we had the drive to watch 24 hours a day. The idea of having people Just Like Us on national TV, living in a house with strangers, that was new. Exciting. We could see them live. Every conflict, every love story, live. All the time.

The newspaper media machines were more than content to publish stories of the housemates; evictions became headlines, shoving international affairs or government politics aside. We, the public, were far more interested in the politics in the Big Brother house. Who wants to read about a stuffy bunch of white middle-class men when we can see people Just Like Us?

But they're not Just Like Us. Sure, they're human. They're going to have feelings and concerns, and so we can relate to them there. But two things come to mind:

One: who applies to be on a show like this?
Two: who do the producers want to see on a show like this?

Exhibitionists. Conflict-making. Loud. Attention-seeking. Fame-hungry.

I've heard all those things said about people in the Big Brother house. I'm not saying everyone in all the houses were all of those things all the time. But, well, they wanted to be on TV 24 hours a day for months in a row. It's not a particularly normal balanced thing, I don't think.

Still, it's coming to an end. I think it's time for TV to find something new. The Noughties were all about reality TV. What's going to be the craze for the 2010's?

America's Suitehearts...

I've been watching a lot of Supersize vs Superskinny lately. There's a lot of it on the Channel 4 archives, and it's a good way to spend 40 minutes without too much pain. Basic premise: someone eats too little and is underweight; someone eats too much and is overweight. Swap their diets!

In this latest series, they have a video clip sent from Stateside to the overweight/obese person on the program to remind them that fat kills. You get the shots of them not being able to put shoes on, being washed by careworkers, sitting and looking depressed when their kids run around in the garden without them.

Sadly, there's only so much TV you can watch without just feeling your brain turn to mush, and you desire something else.

There have been occasions when I've almost wanted to be at home. At least talking kitchen with Mom was a conversation.

I've not been a total hermit anyway; I've seen a few people over the few days. Sunday was dinner with some old Christian friends. I am considering seeing them on a more regular basis; they're a good bunch of people, even if their lives are focused around something I can't comprehend right now. I saw Clare and her house on Monday, had a curry with them. I actually had enough leftovers for a full plate the following day too (with rice to spare!), so that was pleasing.

I've been thinking a lot about food lately. There's not a great deal happening here: I wake up, I fritter time on the internet, I eat, I shower, I try to revise, I eat lunch, I revise a little more, I eat dinner, I watch TV and movies and talk to the odd internet person until it's 11:30 and I can go to bed without waking up at ridiculous o'clock the following morning.

Sigh. Lazy Wednesday...

Today...

Woken up at 8, asked what should Dad buy for me in the supermarket. Decided to roll out of bed, grab clothes, and just go with him. Dressed entirely like a boy (except for the skinny jeans). Bought lots of stuff.

Later in the day, I dressed entirely like a girl. Cute t-shirt, ruffly cotton layered skirt. I had hips like a goddess, which makes a change, cos my hips are actually pretty damn narrow. (Thank goodness for my butt.)

Excellent food day: Weetabix, hot milk and chopped banana; hummous, pitta bread and carrot sticks; grapes and dilute juice; cream cheese on bagel, cup of tea; Chinese take out; slice of toast.

Lazy study day. Made some progress. Easing myself into things. Doing Lie Algebras right now.

Discovered Sesame Street videos. Laughed until I cried. Flailed my limbs about in pure joy. Found a great video of Natalie Portman, dressed as an elephant, dancing with an elephant dressed as a princess. So fucking cute.

Talked to Tristan and Dave about things and stuff. Nothing too deep. Linked them to all the Sesame Street stuff.

Watched a gymnastics movie with a Fall Out Boy soundtrack. Kickass.

Had a two hour nap while the Budget was on the TV. Woke up to see Nick Clegg asking politicians to cut the crap and tell the truth.

Listened to Dancing With Myself, and Imagine (the originals, not the Glee covers).

"That's very smart, Banana, very smart."

Today was a pretty good day. Doesn't quite beat the day in the Bullring with a Krispy Kreme, though.

Killing in the name (of conformity)

Funnily enough, writing this post, I am thinking of Jedward. Those awfully highly entertaining, just-plain-awful Irish boys from X Factor infamy.

I think of them because this post is to do with X Factor. Second, they are identical twins. Even though I write this largely independently (bar news sources, Daily Fail, etc), I have no doubt whatsoever that almost-identical copies of this post are out there, somewhere. (Minus blond quiffs, and hopefully not singing Ghostbusters).

So, what's been the fuss this week? X Factor is over, and so is Strictly. Finally we can stop hearing about these shows... or can we?

There's this thing called "Christmas Number One". It's like being the Number One single at any time of year, except it's at Christmas, so the sales are bigger (usually). There's also betting on who will be Number One, cos betting is fun.

For the past few years, the X Factor show has finished just in time for the single released by the winner to be Christmas Number One. Apart from the first series, every other series had got their Christmas Number One... well, except poor little Joe, winner of the latest series.

Joe was faced with the rage of the general public at Simon Cowell for taking away the thrill of a real Christmas Number One, and for ruining their telly with X Factor, Xtra Factor and his manufactured "stars". He also wears his trousers too high and his tshirts are a bit tight sometimes - I think people take this issue very seriously.

So, anyway. The song that won was fueled by a rage of its own - Rage Against The Machine. Four lovely boys from LA who got quite angry with The System and wanted to Fight It and get angry and write a good song about it.

The line that always causes contention is: "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me!"

The thing is, RATM would have never won this Christmas rage without a good deal of conformity. It's all well and good for people to say "Fuck Simon! I'm buying my own choice of single, and not your cookie-cutter pop boy's Miley Cyrus cover drivel". What you get is Joe winning and random singles all over of the place getting one extra download.

What you need is a co-ordinated strike. Suspending your belief in a total anarchy to create an anarchy-lite of sorts.

Moral of the story: If you want to Fight The System effectively, you have to create your own. But, we knew that already.

Goodbye, Ruby Sunday...?

I like rubies! And emeralds. Yes... I have the best boyfriend ever, since he bought me emerald earrings for our one year anniversary. Yaaaaaay!

The anniversary was 11 days ago, but I've not been so good at the linear blogging thing.

Exams start on Thursday. I've been studying Algebra a little today, and moving on to Metric Spaces in the late afternoon.

Fall Out Boy's album, Folie à Deux, is quite something. I know it's not great music, but I just enjoy their energy. I'm still a fourteen year old fangirl inside.

Oh, I found The Simpsons online again. Will I ever study again!? Yes. Yes I will. :p

Diva!

I bought my first copy of Diva today. I've been thumbing through it... seems okay.

I always keep forgetting things about lesbanim gay queer type women people. They're usually frighteningly feminist. That's a bit weird for me. Being a debater kinda kicked out most of my views on anything, so I don't immediately side with feminists because I was born female.

I might do a review of what I read after I'm done, I might not. Either way, it's fun to read.

They had a brief article featuring the two girls in the lesbian subplot in the current series of Skins. The writers did a surprisingly good job over it! The dialogue is a little stiff and forced at times, but the way the plot's developed in their case has been interesting, and it's the kind of thing that happens.

The rest of the plot is a mad mess. Let's see...

Cook is sleeping with Effy, who loves Freddie, who loves Effy, but is sleeping with Katie, who is Emily's twin sister. Emily is beginning to date Naomi, but Emily has slept with JJ, who wants to be friends with both Cook and Freddie, but they're mad with each other over Effy. Then, there's Pandora (or Panda, as she is often called), who lost her virginity to Cook within a day of her boyfriend, Thomas, had left the country. Thomas came back, Cook told him that him and Pandora had been sleeping together.

Why do I watch this stuff! It's just madness, Spartan quantities thereof.