A Hilton Tribute

Last night, as a tribute to beloved Paris Hilton, celebrating her release from incarceration, I honored the heroine in true Joseph in the Bracknell style. I stayed a night in a Hilton hotel. What else did you expect me to do? My stay served a dual purpose. Not only was I able to provide a fitting tribute to the blond beauty. so unjustly imprisoned, but I was able to keep my Hilton HHonors membership from being cancelled, at the same time. A couple of months ago, I received a letter from Hilton HHonors loyalty program warning me that my membership would be cancelled, unless I stayed in a Hilton hotel before July 1st. Due to a shortage of funds, I just haven't been staying in hotels over the past two years, as much as I used to. Originally, I thought I would stay in London on Saturday night, but when I checked availability, the prices were too high at the London locations. I was just about to settle for the Bracknell Hilton, where I have stayed numerous times before, when I found that either of the two Hiltons in Newbury had an even cheaper rate, on Friday night. I chose one and booked it. Thus, I was able to enjoy a mini-break, on my own, and pay tribute to the under-appreciated and misunderstood, Paris Hilton. I hope my favorite blond, hotel fortune heiress appreciated what I did to honor her. Paris, I salute you.

Big Brother Eviction 3

Amazingly, I got my prediction on who was to be evicted, last week, wrong. I even bet money on it at the bookie's, so you know I wasn't happy. I wasn't the only one wrong, as the bookies had Jonathan favored to go, as well. I hate loosing money. Regarding this weeks eviction, I expect Billi to go, but as of last night, the odds on Tracey being evicted were steadily improving. The odds for Billi are so bad, you can't make any money betting on him, so I'm taking a chance and putting a small wager on Tracey to go out. Last week, the bookies favorite, Jonathan, didn't go and second favorite, Seany, did. I'm hoping for a repeat of that sort of outcome, this week. Anyone listening to LBC Radio presenter, Bill Buckley (97.3 FM, London, Sky 0177, and via the net at: www.lbc973.co.uk ), last night, would have caught me talking to him about "Big Brother," amongst other things, as I phoned in to his show. I know Muckey Sarah was listening, but I'm not sure who else. I'm out tonight and tomorrow night. Have a nice weekend, people.

Spicetastic!

It's finally happened! Today, after ages of rumors and denials, the Spice Girls have announced that they are getting back together. Girl Power is being recycled, although the world tour is more likely to add CO2 to the atmosphere, rather than reduce any. They are also planning to release a greatest hits album in time for Christmas. That would be a definite buy, for me. The Fab Five are one of the most successful British groups ever. They pretty much invented the girl group sub-genre of Britpop,which has led to such current successes as Sugababes and Girls Aloud. In fact, I will find it interesting to see how the Spice Girls do now, faced with the competition from the newer groups. This year, we were treated to a single with Girls Aloud and Sugababes, for Comic relief. Imagine a single with the Spice Girls and Girls Aloud. I am so pleased to have the Spices back that I may even go to see them during their tour. After all, they are spicetastic!

Silver Lining

Yesterday, I reported how Gordon Brown becoming Prime Minister cast a dark cloud over Britain. Well, they say every dark cloud has a silver lining. In this case, the silver lining has to be Gordon's wife, Sarah Brown. I think she's very attractive, much better looking than Blair's wife, Cherie. In an ironic reversal of fortune, Blair is better looking than Brown, but Blair's wife isn't particularly good looking. While Brown isn't as good looking as Blair, but his wife is much hotter than Blair's is. Of course, this brings to mind an immediate question regarding the new Prime Minister. How'd he pull her? As Eddie Murphy said in his first film, "48 Hours," "the generosity of women never ceases to amaze me." It gives plain men everywhere hope. Of course Henry Kissinger said, "power is the ultimate aphrodisiac." That could explain a lot.

Prime Time

Today, Tony Blair resigned as Prime Minister (PM) of Great Britain and Gordon Brown took over as his replacement. Appropriately, it was cloudy and rainy, most of the day. The notion that it was a dark day for Britain comes to mind. Brown has been standing in the wings, salivating over the prospect of succeeding Blair as PM for years. That alone gives me the impression that there is something wrong with him. Someone famous enough for me to forget who it was once said that people who want to be the leader should be disqualified from being the leader. In addition, there is something dodgy (a wonderful, British expression that, dodgy...it means sort of illegitimate) about him. He looks dodgy. I don't trust him. Given that all politicians are untrustworthy, Brown seems even more untrustworthy than usual. He has no charisma. As bad as Blair was, there was something likable about him. Gordon,on the other hand, seems totally unlikable. One is amazed he managed to find a woman to marry him. Brown bears keeping an eye on. You have been warned. At least he provided me with something to blog about.

He Uses My Rice Cooker!

Those of you who have been keeping up with my blog, lately, know that the cold war has spread, at my house, from between me and Hitler's Nephew, to me and Nando, my racist, Italian housemate. As the two of them recreate the famous Axis alliance of World War II, I am not speaking to either of them. Hitler's Nephew started the whole thing, by stopping speaking to me. So, anyway, Sunday night, I am sitting in the lounge, watching TV, when I notice Hitler's Nephew in the kitchen. He was using my rice cooker! What cheek! (that's a wonderful British expression...cheek...in America, we'd say, "what nerve," but "what cheek" sounds so much nicer)!! If I'm not good enough to talk to, then he should keep his fat hands off my rice cooker.
In World War II, the Axis powers included Japan. My evil ex-wife, the Black Queen, could stand in for the Japanese. She is half Chinese and half English. Her English DNA mutes the traditional Chinese features in a way that might be able to be passed off as Japanese. The three of them make up the latest "Axis of Evil." Forget about Iraq, Iran, and North Korea. Look at what I've got to deal with. I must have the patience of Job. I'd rather have the money of Steve Jobs. Back to the rice cooker. What should I do to retaliate? Would peeing on his motorcycle be going too far?

I'm Eating Cucumbers

Recently, I have begun eating cucumbers. Not on their own, but in salads. For practically 47 years, I have disliked cucumbers. Now, all of the sudden, I have started eating them. Okay, to be fair, I didn't try them for the vast majority of that time. You know how when you're a kid and you just decide you don't like stuff without trying it? It was one of those type of things. However, in my defence, when I first ate some cucumber, accidentally, I didn't like it. It was all cold and gave me the shivers. It seems, now, that I have developed a taste for them. The same thing happened with me and beer. One of my mother's boyfriends gave me a sip of beer, when I was little. I thought it tasted horrible! It was all bitter and stuff. I pretty much stayed away from beer until I was 17. Then, while I was attending Syracuse University, I gradually developed a taste for beer. At Syracuse, many of the parties included free beer from kegs. It seemed to be drink that, or nothing.
About 14 years ago, I started eating zucchini. Speaking of which, in Britain they call zucchini, "courgette." That surprised me, when I came over here, that they have different names for some food. We speak the same language, supposedly, in America and Britain, but we have so many different names for things. Back then, I was dating a woman who was older than me. One day, she cooked pasta for me with zucchini in a cheese sauce. It was another case of trying something I had never tried before. Maybe the moral of this story is that you shouldn't decide you don't like a food without trying it. Either that, or it's that women get me to do stuff. The cucumber thing was caused by a woman, too. I was visiting a female friend of mine and she offered me lunch, or dinner, or something. Let's just say she offered me a meal. The meal included a salad. She put cucumbers in it, as she didn't know I didn't like them. The British seem mad about cucumbers. We go through a shit load of them at the restaurant. The salad was all tossed and covered in salad dressing, so I didn't spot the cucumber until I bit into a piece. It wasn't that bad. Now, I'm buying them myself.
I have stated buying lettuce, cucumbers, peppers, and making my own salad. I've been dieting for a few weeks and I decided to cut down on cole slaw, replacing it with fresh prepared salad. So, I wonder if cucumbers are good for you? They are green and stuff. I asked the sous chef, at work, if cucumbers are good for you. He said they were, because they are green and all green vegetables are good for you. I pointed out that green potatoes are not good for you. Trust me to rain on his parade. I've lost 14 pounds over the past month and I feel better. My friend, Tom, thinks cutting out the cole slaw will help my weight loss. I'm not so sure. Today, I got really freaky-deaky and bought some radishes to slice for my salads. Okay, they were marked down. This seems another point of compatibility I have with Jodie Marsh. She's started eating healthy, lately, too. Sadly, I don't think she's noticing all these points of compatibility we have. I wonder what will be the next food I start eating?

Artist of the Week: Rihanna

This week, my Artist of the Week is Rihanna. I was motivated by her current hit single, "Umbrella," which seemed appropriate, as it rained all weekend, here. I was mildly into her previous work, but "Umbrella" has won me over. I watched the video a couple of times, this weekend. It's the first single from her latest album, "Good Girl Gone Bad." The album was released earlier this month, on June 5th. Born in Barbados, her full name is Robyn Rihanna Fenty. She''s never told me why she calls herself simply Rihanna, professionally, instead of Robyn Fenty. Not only musically successful, Rihanna is a beauty as well. Gillette recently named her Venus Breeze Celebrity Legs of a Goddess for 2007 and she is rumored to have insured her legs $1,000,000. If she needs help shaving them, I'm available. You can check her out on Myspace at: http://www.myspace.com/rihanna .

Attack of the Black Queen!: the Black Queen Story Part 7 (Final Part)

Eventually, I began to suspect that my marriage was in trouble. I'm not sure when the watershed event was, but I remember taking D---a and her two children to Hawaii, in December, 2001. During that trip, I spoke to my mother on the phone and she was warning me that my marriage was in trouble. Also during that trip, D---a refused to sleep in the same bed as me, claiming that my snoring was bothering her. The problem was that I had no idea what was wrong, nor how to fix it. In early 2002, D---a and I took a long weekend trip to Brussels. We travelled via the Eurostar, virtually repeating the trip that we went on when we got engaged. The only difference was that this time, we stayed in the five star, Le Meridien hotel. Both of us were earning more money. D---a later admitted that she hopped this trip would rekindle the magic that she felt during our first visit to Brussels, back in 1998. The trip went well and we didn't argue.
By Valentine's Day, 2002, things had slipped again. I remember giving her a Valentine's card, that morning, as we were getting ready to leave for work. She just tossed the envelope aside, without opening it. I told her I spent 45 minutes picking the card out, the least she could do was read it. In response, she tossed an envelope of her own at me, saying, "I figured you'd get me a card, so I got you one. I spent five seconds picking it out." I picked up the envelope she had tossed toward me and went away. Her son, Harry, noticed the exchange.
Harry called me into his room and when I was there, he asked, quietly, "why's mummy being so horrible to you?" This was a particularly poignant experience, as Harry was pretty inconsiderate of other people, generally. If he had noticed something was wrong, it had to be pretty bad. Ever loyal to my wife, I made excuses for her. I explained things away, telling him that even when people love each other, they can feel angry toward their loved one, at times. He asked me if D---a loved me and I had to admit that I didn't know. I told him that was something only she could say, but not to worry, everything would be fine.
In the months that followed, I suggested to D---a that we try marriage counseling. She countered by saying that I must think something was wrong with her, to suggest that. I explained that I thought a neutral party could help us. It didn't mean that anything was wrong with her. Maybe there was something wrong with me, but we should try and get help. She dismissed the idea, saying that she'd tried marriage counseling with her first husband and it hadn't helped. Bitterly, she told me that the counselor had taken her husband's side, so she wasn't interested in counselors.
One Sunday, while at her mother's for dinner, I went to cuddle D---a in the kitchen. I often did this, as I am a cuddly type of person. D---a shrugged me off and said, "don't touch me!" very sharply. She'd never done that before. In the spring of 2002, she'd begun withholding sex entirely. Now, it seemed that even a hug was off limits. Still, I pressed on with day to day life. I hoped that whatever anger she felt towards me would subside, eventually. In May, I heard that several jazz artists who I like were playing a concert in London. I told my wife about it and, when she seemed to agree to go along, I bought two tickets. D---a arranged for her ex-husband to have the kids for the night, so we could go to the concert. I had never before been to a concert with my wife and I was very excited. To me, it felt like a date. In the days before the date of the show, D---a suggested that I go with someone else. I was shocked. "there is no one else," I replied. "You're my wife and I want to go with you." She suggested taking a friend, but I was adamant that I had bought the tickets for us to go, together, and that is what I wanted. I would accept no substitute. She dropped her suggestion in the face of my resoluteness.
When the day of the concert arrived, I was back to my happy, excited state. As it was a weekday, I had arranged to be off work that evening. I worked as a travel agent and could have been assigned to work that night till 10PM, in our call centre. I left work at 4PM and drove home. At some point, I bought my wife a bouquet of flowers. D---a was very fussy about flowers. I was under strict instructions to never buy her roses and that I must never give her flowers as a way of apologizing, nor for any birthday or anniversary. They must only be given spontaneously. That day felt like a spontaneous occasion. When I arrived home, D---a's ex -husband was at the front door. He'd come to pick up the children. I parked my car and walked up to greet my wife. I handed her the flowers, in front of her ex. I felt particularly good about that, as she used to complain to me that he never bought her flowers, except to apologize for some wrong doing. That was why she instructed me never to do that. D---a looked at the flowers with a puzzled expression. "What are these for?" she asked.
"They aren't for anything," I said, "I just felt like giving you flowers." I entered the house and waited for D---a to finish getting ready. With the kids away, that didn't take long. Soon, we were on our way to London.
The night seemed enjoyable. The venue was the Hammersmith Apollo and we had good seats. The line up included Bob James, who's album, "Three," was the first jazz album I had ever bought. The headliners were the Rippingtons, a California band who were highly recommended by my good friend in Orange County, Richard Boddie. D---a seemed like she enjoyed herself. On our way out of the hall, she picked up some pamphlets advertising future shows at the venue. She spotted some show she said she'd like to take the kids to and I agreed. My wife went on to book the tickets in the days following, securing four, so that all of us could go.
A few weeks after our date, things came to a head. It was early June, 2002. The first round came when D---a announced to me, one day, that she didn't want me going with her and the kids to the show she'd bought tickets for. When I pointed out that she'd bought four tickets and that one would be wasted, she said her step-father was going in my place. While I was trying to come to grips with this, she fired off the next round. D---a told me that on the next Sunday, when we were supposed to be going to dinner at her parent's house, I wasn't welcome in her parent's home anymore. She and the kids would be going to dinner without me. I went off to work, feeling numb and puzzled. What had brought this all on? After a few days, I realized that I only had heard this from her. Maybe she'd made it up, I reasoned. I decided to email my father-in-law and verify it with him. To my horror, he emailed me back, confirming what D---a had said. I was no longer welcome in their house. No explanation for this move was given.
Not realizing the extent of things, I managed to get through about another week, when the big bombshell exploded. On June 13th, 2002, a letter arrived, addressed to me. It was from a firm of solicitors (lawyers). I tore open the envelope and read the letter. It informed me that my wife was filing for divorce and advised me to seek legal advice of my own. It was as if a formal declaration of war had been issued. With my wife's usual considerate timing, the letter arrived one week to the day before our wedding anniversary. I sat down, stunned, with the letter in one hand, tears streaming from my eyes. With hindsight, I now realized why D---a had been so hesitant about going to the concert with me and why she'd acted so guilty about receiving the flowers. She'd been planning this all along. In time, I gathered my wits about me and picked up the telephone directory. War had been declared and my defenses needed organizing. I looked through the ads for solicitors and picked out one who specialized in family law, and divorce. I called the office and made an appointment for an initial consultation.
There's something especially horrible about having a spouse turn on you. It's worse than having a loved one die. If he or she dies, it's not deliberate. When your spouse divorces you, he or she is overtly rejecting you. I had taken my marriage very seriously. All my adult life, I had wanted to be married and never divorced. This was because my parents had split up after weeks of marriage, and eventually divorced. I always wanted to show my mother how marriage should be done. D---a was taking away my life-long dream...forever. I remember the vows we took, to stay together until death parted us. To me, it seemed that D---a was violating her vow and that felt like a betrayal. During the months that followed, I never stopped trying to persuade her to reconcile. To me, our marriage was fixable. I didn't hit her or abuse her and there had been no infidelity. Years later I read "Mars and Venus: Perfect Together," by John Gray, author of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus." Gray, a psychologist, confirmed my suspicions that our marriage was savable. He advises couples considering divorce to try counseling first. I wish I had read the book before I was divorced. Better still, I wish my wife had read it. I wore my wedding ring, right up to the day I received notice that our divorce was final. From that day, I vowed never to speak her name again. That's why, to this day, I refer to her only as "my evil ex-wife" and "the Black Queen." I feel that her betrayal of our marriage was an evil act and that her heart was black. For convenience, I have adopted the protocol of referring to her as "D---a," during this written chronicle, because I didn't think of her as evil, nor as the Black Queen, until she divorced me.
This is the final part in the Black Queen story, and the final in the series of blogs about the wonderful women who have broken my heart. I started the series in response to a request from my favorite, female, radio DJ, Opal Bonfante, a regular reader of my blog. I hope the rest of you also got something out of reading these tales of romance gone wrong. I apologize for them not being funny, as most of my work usually is, but even I can't be funny all of the time.

Program Reminder: Urban Legends

Don't forget...those of you in the UK and Ireland, who have Sky, or access to FX Channel via cable...tonight at midnight, my episode of "Urban Legends" will be re-shown. Sky Channel 165. American and Canadian residents, the series is supposed to be airing, eventually, in your neck of the woods. Check local listings.

My Mother Sent Me a Card

Yesterday, when I got home from work, I found an envelope from America, addressed to me. The writing on the envelope looked distinctly like my mother's handwriting. I was suspicious as to what was inside. I haven't heard from my mother since just after Christmas, when her Christmas card arrived, late. Sure enough, when I opened the envelope, it was a birthday card. My birthday is in eleven days. I guess my mother is over-compensating for the fact that her Christmas card was late, so my birthday card is almost two weeks early.
The front of the card shows a picture of a cat siting on the bonnet (hood) of a vintage style car. Imagine a front grill like a classic Rolls Royce and you won't be too far off. After knowing me for almost 48 years, my mother has worked out that I like cats and cars. That's progress. Inside, she wrote, "Dear Joseph," above where the card company printed, "You're first class! Happy Birthday." Below the print from the card company, she signed it, "Love, Joanne." Ironically, Joanne is my mother's name. It would have been really funny if she'd have signed it with a different name, like Carol, or something, but my mother's humor has never been that sophisticated. There wasn't anything more inside.
The last card I sent my mother was for Easter. I wrote her a note, making use of the opportunity to communicate a little. I used to call her, regularly, but last year, she asked me to stop calling her, saying that I was causing her stress. In my note, I asked her to rescind the ban on me calling her. I have not received any reply and there is no news, nor note, inside this card. Don't get me wrong, just because I sound sarcastic, I am really very pleased to have received this card, even if it's early. It means my mother is still alive. I worry that she'll die before I make my fortune. I'd like to be in a position, financially, to do some nice things for her, while she's still alive. As I approach the day I get another year older, I keep thinking, "hang on in there, ma."

I Forgot My Anniversary

The anniversary of my wedding to my evil ex-wife, the Black Queen, was two days ago and I forgot to write a blog about it. It's not like I totally forgot, as I did think about it a few days in advance. My life is so busy these days, especially during the week, sometimes days slip by without me realizing it. Anyway, it was the 9th anniversary of me getting married. When she divorced me, she provided no wedding photos, nor a copy of our wedding video. So, I don't have much in the way of mementos of the day. Ironically, I now live a block away from the hotel where we sent our wedding night. Thinking back, I realize that I saw the double for my first fiancee on the anniversary of my wedding to my third fiancee. Do you suppose that means something? Cue scary music. I don't. Coincidences are just that, coincidences. You can turn the scary music off now, please.

Look Alike

When I went to work yesterday, I found that the Sou Chef was off for the day. a temp chef was booked from an agency. When I saw the temp chef, I was shocked (the British have a colorful term for it...gobsmacked). The temp was a woman. Although unusual, that fact alone was not unprecedented. What shocked me was that she looked so much like my first fiancee, Kelly Lucas. This girl was obviously too young to be Kelly. When Kelly and I got engaged, back in 1986, this girl was only four years old. Still, the resemblance was uncanny.
The temp chef was called Charley (or Charlie? How the heck should I know how she spells it? Ironically, my mother used to use a perfume called, "Charlie"). Looking at Charley was strange. Talking with her was strange. It was like I was back in time, 21 years ago. I felt odd. I am still in love with Kelly, although I haven't seen her since 1987. Every time I saw Charley, I felt oddly uncomfortable. When I told Charley that she looked like my ex-fiancee (of course I told her...you know me, I tell everything), she laughed. In fact, she seemed to laugh at almost everything I said. Then, of course, I do try to be a bit comic during the course of my day. Charley had her hair tucked up under a chef's hat, throughout the day. When she changed out of her chef's uniform, she revealed a head full of long, brown hair. It suddenly felt very warm in the kitchen. After she had her time sheet signed by management, she strode out of the door and back out of my life, just as suddenly as she plopped into it. What a strange experience.

Big Brother Nominations 3

The third set of nominations are in and this week, Carole, Jonathan, and Seany face the public vote for who will be the second housemate evicted. This is the first week that all housemates have nominated. Many members of the viewing public are surprised that Charley wasn't nominated, but she only escaped nomination by one vote. With the past week's events in mind, this trio are not that much of a surprise. All of them have annoyed other housemates. Carole seems to order everyone about and is constantly complaining. Seany's practical jokes haven't endeared him to many of his fellow housemates. Some of the young women think Jonathan has been "perving" over them. Meanwhile, other housemates have picked up on the same observation that I have. Jonathan doesn't need to be in there.
Jonathan is a multi-millionaire. He could finance his own show, if he was so keen to be on TV. Not only doesn't he need the money from winning, by his own admission, he doesn't want the money. I think he's just taking up a space that some poor person could have. Those of us without money, who could benefit in a life-changing way by being on the series, are probably a little pissed off that someone who totally doesn't need it is in there. I waited hours in line, two years in a row to be on the show. For that reason, I think Jonathan will be the one evicted on Friday. It would be different if he'd come in there and been totally charming, winning the audience over, but he hasn't. He's a bit too full of himself and a bit too quick to look down on his fellow housemates, with cliched, poorly articulated criticisms, which aren't even entertaining to watch. Get the rich dude out.

Program Alert Update: Nevermind

After driving all the way to Borehamwood and standing in line at Elstree Studios, I was refused entry by the staff of "Big Brother's Big Mouth," tonight. Their reason was that they claimed they couldn't take the chance that I might get another nose bleed. Despite the fact that I had an operation to stop the problem, a week ago, and have had no problem with nose bleeding since my last hospital visit, they would not be swayed. After I complained about the expense I had gone to in driving there, I managed to get the cost of petrol out of them. The person I spoke to, who didn't give her name, kept repeating the mantra of "health and safety." I would like to know who's health and who's safety? So, there's no need to watch, unless you were going to anyway. Ironically, Mucky Sarah sent me a text from inside the ready room, stating that they were short of audience members, tonight. I can't say I have the least bit of sympathy for them. All I ended up with was buying a comfort DVD.

Program Alert: Big Brother's Big Mouth, Tonight

Mucky Sarah invited me to do "Big Brother's Big Mouth" with her, tonight. It's on E4 at 11PM, just after the main Channel 4 "Big Brother" show. If your in the UK or Ireland, tune in and I'll try to be entertaining. The guy who plays Bo Selecta is hosting.

Urban Legends

Last night, I finally saw my episode of "Urban Legends" on TV. Because the TV listings don't indicate which episode it is in advance, I didn't know it was going to be on. I have been just trying to catch every episode looking for it, but have missed a few. A close, personal friend of mine told me, over the weekend, that she'd seen the episode I was supposed to be in a couple of weeks ago, but hadn't seen me. I panicked. Had I ended up on the cutting room floor? As I watched last night, there I was in the middle segment. In each episode of "Urban Legends," there are three stories. Two of the stories are false, or are "urban legends." The third one is true. I acted in one of the stories, playing office manager, Elliot Wakiaski. My segment involves a guy who dies at his desk, while working in an office, and isn't discovered for a week.
I was really excited to see the episode, finally. We filmed it last summer. I have a speaking part, which was scripted, although we did some takes with me ad libbing some lines. I was thrilled to see that two of my ad libs made it into the finally cut. If you didn't happen to see last night's episode, don't fret. It will be re-broadcast this Friday night, at midnight (going into Saturday morning). In the UK and Ireland, it's on the FX Channel, Sky 165 (and again an hour later on +1, channel 166). The series is also supposed to air in America and Canada, although I don't know when, or on what channels. Check your local listings if you live in the USA or Canada.

Ocean's 13

On Saturday, a close, personal friend of mine treated me to dinner and a movie. Actually, it was movie then dinner, but I don't think the order matters too much. We went to see "Ocean's 13," the second sequel in the modern "Ocean's" franchise. After acknowledging that the first sequel, "Ocean's 12," was a load of crap, the film makers promised to do better by the audience, this time. That promise was kept, but only just. As my friend hadn't seen the modern version of "Ocean's 11," nor the Frank Sinatra original, we watched it on DVD before going to see "13." The latest outing still doesn't compare favorably with "11." Both Julia Roberts and "12's" Catherine Zeta Jones are absent from "13." All the original guys are back and the additional 13th man is, I suppose, the father of Matt Damon's character.
Al Pacino plays the bad guy/target in this film. I normally love Pacino's work and have previously stated that he is capable of making a bad film worth watching. This time, he didn't. I found his performance in "Ocean's 13" unusually uninspiring. It was okay, but nothing special. The plot is so complicated, I found myself wondering when the action was going to start. Personally, I would recommend waiting for this one to be on DVD, as ticket prices are so expensive these days, I wouldn't spend one's limited budget on such a mediocre excursion.

Artist of the Week: Vikki O'Neill

This week, I have selected Vikki O'Neill as my Artist of the Week. Although of South American and Irish ancestry, the 22 year old singer/songwriter is currently living in London. She's putting together a solo album, but has experience as half of the songwriting duo, "THE HOOKers." She has written for other artists, including Sugababes. I discovered Vikki on Myspace and she has a lovely voice. She has two Myspcae profiles: http://www.myspace.com/vikkioneill and
http://www.myspace.com/vikkioneillmusic . Check her out and I'm sure you'll like her. I look forward to the release of her album and I want you all to support it when it comes out.

Nando Attacks

On Friday, I arrived home from work before Nando did. I had planned on going away for the weekend. As I was feeling tired, I took a nap before getting ready to leave. When I woke up, I discovered that Nando had come home. I was excited because I managed to acquire a free case of beer at work, Friday. I intended on sharing it with Nando. After showering and getting dressed, I went downstairs and retrieved the case of beer from the boot (trunk) of my car. Nando was sitting in the kitchen when I walked in with the beer in my arms. Smiling, I said, "look what I got for us."
Instead of responding in a pleasant manner, my racist, Italian housemate started speaking to me with a great level of hostility. He demanded that I empty the rubbish bin in the bathroom, before I left on my trip. I had never been spoken to in that way, by Nando, in over four years. He seemed to be sqeemish over the bloody tissues in the rubbish bin, from when my nose was bleeding. I pointed out that he could have removed the bin liner himself, at any point, by its handles, without touching any of the contents. However, if he was too squeamish to do it himself, I was perfectly willing to do it, so there was no problem, nor any reason to speak to me with such anger and hostility. So, he changed the subject.
He then started complaining about how much food I had in the fridge. Next he complained that some bread and pizza I had was moldy. He threatened to tell the landlord. I don't understand why he's spending so much time observing what I have on my shelves. Nando has lived with me for over three and a half years. I have always experienced some food going moldy before I could eat it. I reminded Nando of this and asked him why he was acting so upset about it now? I accused him of acting like a girl. He didn't like that. "Don't call me a girl," he said. I had discovered a button to push. He complained about a bag of fish I had in the fridge, because condensation and oil had pooled in the bottom of the bag. Why that bothered him I don't know, but I reminded him that his milk often leaked, yet I never hassled him about that. I removed the moldy food and threw it out, as well as the bag of fish.
I asked Nando if he had his share of the Sky bill, as it was five days past due. He accused me of asking for it because I was angry with him. That was nonsense! I told him I was planning to ask for it anyway, as I needed the money. Nando said that when I got back from my weekend away, that I should not speak to him anymore. "Fine," I said. I could ignore people better than anyone else, having learned it from my mother. Sadly, it looks like a friendship has come to an end. In over four years of knowing each other, we'd never had an argument before. I felt betrayed by someone I thought I could trust. Looks like the cold war is on.

Big Brother's Big Mouth: Alexa Chung

This week, Alexa Chung hosted "Big Brother's Big Mouth" (BBBM). I would have been in the audience on Tuesday, her first night, but my nose intervened. I had not heard of her before and had no idea who she is. I found out she's a former model and presents, "Popworld." She's got long legs and is very cute. I think she did a pretty good job with BBBM. There are a couple of ironic coincidences between her and I. First, she's Eurasian, while my evil ex-wife, the Black Queen, was half Chinese and half English. A further coincidence is that Alexa is from Hampshire and I used to live in Hampshire, when I lived with the Black Queen. It's too bad I didn't get to expose her to my wit and charm, this week.

Big Brother Nominations 2

This week, the housemates on "Big Brother," series 8, who are nominated for eviction are Carole, Tracey, and Shabnam. Poor Shabnam comes as no surprise, as so many seem to have something against the exotic beauty. However, with newcomers Gerry and Seany being two of the four people empowered to nominate and given the power to chose who the other two would be, I just couldn't predict how things would turn out. Gerry and Seany interviewed their fellow housemates, before deciding who the other two who have nomination ability would be. They chose the twins, Sam and Amanda, a move I didn't expect. To me, selecting Sam and Amanda was like giving a pair of monkeys the keys to the space shuttle...anything could happen!!!
The unlikely foursome, newcomers and the twins, produced a quite reasonable result. Shabnam has been unpopular and is now enjoying her second week as a nominee. She only was saved last week, by Emily getting herself kicked off the show and the eviction being cancelled. Carole and Tracey have been increasingly marginalizing themselves from the main group of housemates, so their nominations are also quite reasonable. I am sad to say that I expect Shabnam to go. She has proved unpopular with the public, even though I like her. I am so certain she will be the one evicted, I was going to bet on it, but the bookies have closed off betting on her, because it's so one sided. The betting public is putting most of their money on her to go, too. Poor Shabnam. Whatever happens, there will always be a place for her in my life.
Who goes? You decide.

Big Brother's Big Mouth: Not Again!

Some of you who were watching "Big Brother's Big Mouth," last night, have contacted me, saying you couldn't see me on the show. That's strange. Did you look really, really hard? It's because I wasn't on it you numpties! I arrived at Elstree Studios, promptly, only to have a visit from an old friend. My nose started bleeding, again! After spending an hour in the toilet, next to the waiting room, I decided to bow out for the night and head to the hospital. My Artist friend, Jan, dropped me off at Barnet Hospital, the closest to Elstree, then headed back do she could participate in the broadcast. There was no reason she should miss out, as well as me.
After two hours of waiting, bleeding all over he A & E reception area I was finally taken in to the A & E ward. They put me on a gurney and left me to wait some more. When I eventually saw a doctor, he was pretty useless. The only good thing he did was call a specialist hospital for ear, nose, and throat. They immediately agreed to accept me as a transfer. I was driven from Barnet all the way to central London, near Kings Cross. At this new hospital, I was seen by an ENT specialist, who was tall, very thin, blond, and cute. She did an excellent job of cauterizing the bleeding blood vessel. The bleeding stopped and, so far, hasn't returned.
By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I arrived at my door at 6:30AM, just in time to get up and get ready for work. I was so tired, I contemplated taking the day off, but I am too dedicated an employee to do that. I dragged myself around work, today, figuring I could sleep when I got home. After work, before I could get in bed, someone from BBBM called. They were thinking of using me for a feature, as a caller. So, something good may come out of events, after all. Stay tuned to BBBM, in case.

Big Brother Program Alert: BBBM Tonight!

Once again, I will be on "Big Brother's Big Mouth." Tonight at 11PM, on E4. Last week, I got a barrel of laughs by pulling a piece of toilet paper from my trouser pocket and offering it to the housemates, upstaging host and serving MP, George Galloway. What might I get up to this time? Tune in and find out. A new presenter starts tonight, as well.

Great News About Big Brother Review Podcast!

The "Big Brother Review Podcast," which I do with my good friend, Mucky Sarah, is now available on iTunes!!! It's a must have if you follow "Big Brother" series 8, here in the UK. Even those of you outside the UK and Ireland, who don't watch the show, may find our podcast entertaining. For example, in episode 2, we discuss the use of so called, "racist language." Is it ever okay, or always "unacceptable?" Download our free podcast and find out. Tell all your friends. http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=257681286

Paris' Plight

Last week, Paris Hilton's 45 day, custodial sentence was changed to house arrest, by the Los Angeles County Sheriff. That didn't sit too well with the sentencing judge, Superior Court Judge Michael T. Sauer. He ordered Paris back into court, then ordered her to serve her entire sentence. She was dragged from the courtroom, kicking and screaming. The question is who's bothered by what the beautiful heiress thinks could be the death nell to her career. I know I am. I have great sympathy for the lovely Paris. Do something that's a blow against tyranny, free Paris, now!

Big Brother Review Podcast

I have some great news! My friend, Mucky Sarah, and I have recorded three episodes of a new podcast, "Big Brother Review." We give our thoughts and opinions on "Big Brother" series 8, here in the UK. You can find the podcast at: http://www.pluggd.com/channel/show/big_brother_review . Check it out and let me know what you think. More episodes in the series will follow.

Artist of the Week: Groove Armada

This week, my Artist of the Week is Groove Armada. Groove Armada is a group from Cambridge, England. They have two members, Andy Cato and Tom Findlay. Having been active for the past eleven years, their music is a combination of electronica, house, and hip hop. Over the course of their career, they have had some of their work used in TV advertising, as well as in films. I decided to select them after enjoying the video for their current single, "Get Down." It features exponentially increasing numbers of dancing bunnies. Once you have two bunnies, you end up with four, then eight, then sixteen, and so forth. "Get Down" is featured on their current album, "Soundboy Rock," in stores now. You can check out the video for "Get Down," as well as sample some of their music, at their Myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/groovearmada . They'll help you get your groove on.

Lesley Walks!

This morning, the oldest housemate in "Big Brother" history waked out on the show. Lesley, aged 60, who's been moaning that she wanted to leave several times during the past week, finally made good on her threat. I am both angry and disappointed over this. I am angry because I have auditioned for the past two years to be a housemate, myself. Here she got to be on the show and she quits after 10 days. To me, she's wasted an opportunity that another person could have had. I am disappointed because I found her entertaining. She had a dry wit, filled with sarcasm and eccentric commentary, laced with a patronizing disdain for the other housemates. As someone over 45, I could relate to her attitudes on life. I liked her so much, I was considering betting on her, to win. I'm now glad I didn't.

Big Brother: Eviction Cancelled.

In the early hours of this morning, "Big Brother" removed Emily from the house, because she said, "nigger," several hours earlier. The word was edit from the live streaming, but then Channel 4 aired the whole incident on the regular "Big Brother" show, at 10PM. It seems contradictory for "Big Brother" to kick Emily out of the house because she said something some people might take offense at, then turn around and air the "offensive" material. Also, Charyl and Nicky repeated the expression, later, yet neither of them were kicked out. Because Emily, who was one of the two housemates nominated, was removed, the eviction on Friday night has been cancelled. This reaction is fuelled by the backlash over this year's "Celebrity Big Brother," racial tensions. Such political correctness gone mad threatens to end this show early,

Big Brother 8 First Nominations

Tonight on "Big Brother," the first nominations for eviction were revealed. During this first week, the only male in the house, Ziggy, was the only one with power to nominate. I think most of us expected him to nominate Charly, as he's been critical of her all week. Well, surprise surprise, he nominated Shabnam and Emily! Sadly, one of them will go on Friday night. They represent two-thirds of the most beautiful women in the house. What on Earth was he thinking? Shabnam wasn't that much of a surprise, as she's been saying she wants to leave the house. She got into trouble, the other day, for asking Ziggy to nominate her. On the other hand, Emily was someone he'd previously said he fancied. How could he go from fancying her to nominating her in a matter of days?
First, Emily had an argument with Ziggy's favorite, Chanelle. Then she got into some bickering with Ziggy himself. That was probably not a clever move, arguing with the only person with nominating power. Polls show the public seems to be strongly leaning in favor of evicting Shabnam, so I am not going much out on a limb in predicting that the dark haired beauty will be the first person evicted, this year. Who goes? You decide. Tune in on Friday night to watch the first live eviction.

Last Night's BBBM

As amazing as this is, some of you didn't see "Big Brother's Big Mouth," last night. Because of that, you missed me. I made a joke that got the most laughs of anything said on the show, including more laughs than any of the presenter's jokes. That's good, as his were pre-written for him. It was George Galloway's first time presenting the show. George is a serving Member of Parliament and was a housemate in "Celebrity Big Brother," last year. when George approached me with a question about the shortage of toilet paper in the house, I pulled a piece of toilet paper out of my pocket and said, "I have some toilet paper, here, they can have." The rest of the audience burst out in hysterical laughter.
In an irony of ironies, one of the two celebrity guests, last night, was...none other than Pete Burns! Why is that ironic? Well, I can now reveal that the reality show I auditioned for, two and a half weeks ago, was "Pete's PA" (see "Attempting to be Social," 19 May, 2007). The series involves hopefuls competing to win a job as Pete Burns' PA. During the audition, I was interviewed by Pete and a couple of experts. It's possible part of the interview will be shown, when the series airs on Living TV. After BBBM, I was following Pete and his boyfriend out of the studio, when I called out to him. He looked around and returned my wave with the that look that people get when they totally don't recognize you. Oh for Pete's sake! It's only been two and a half weeks. Am I that forgettable? In a doubly ironic twist, during the show, Pete made a disparaging comment about...you guessed it, Jodie Marsh! Pete was also a "Celebrity Big Brother" housemate, with George Galloway, as was Jodie. He called her stupid and I, of course, reacted with indignation at that ridiculous accusation. I have heard that Jodie has a very high IQ and, judging from when I was interviewed by her, on Sunday, I think she's very clever. How incestuous the entertainment world is.

Program Alert: Big Brother's Big Mouth (Here We Go Again)

I'll be on "Big Brother's Big Mouth," (BBBM) tonight. The show airs on E4 at 11PM and again on E4+1 at midnight. If you have access to UK digital TV channels, tune in. It will be fun. Well, you should be watching BBBM anyway.

Meeting Jodie Marsh

Yesterday, I attended the final audition for Jodie Marsh's search for a husband. It was held in Bournemouth and I drove the 81 miles to attend. As part of my preparation, I read Jodie's autobiography, "Keeping It Real." I found it helpful, as I only had a limited knowledge of her before hearing about these auditions. There was one problem, though: reading the book didn't allow me to form any emotional attachment to her, or to the idea of marrying her. I wondered how I would feel about her, when I got to know her?
I intended to arrive early and that much went according to plan. When I got there, I was the first auditionee to arrive. In fact, I arrived even before Jodie did. Rumor had it that she was doing an interview at another location, which delayed her. Speaking of interviews, I was approached by a reporter and photographer from a local, Bournemouth paper. They wanted to interview me about auditioning for Jodie and I happily agreed. As I waited, several other auditionees showed up. Immediately, it was apparent that there was a great difference between me and the rest. I was taking it very seriously. Accordingly, I wore my best suit, best cuff links, and my best cologne. Most of the others were dressed casually, with jeans and T-shirts. Another difference was age. Most of them seemed so young, I thought they might all have been younger than Jodie. I am older than her. A couple of them admitted to doing it, "for a laugh." By contrast, I felt I was there to meet my prospective bride. I felt sure I had more to offer Jodie than the rest.
After a comfortable wait, Jodie arrived. I caught a glimpse of her strolling past the entrance of the room we were waiting in. In due course, they were ready for me to be miked. The auditions/interviews were being filmed for television, as the search is part of a reality show to be aired on MTV. Once I was wired for sound, there was a further period of waiting. It was then that potential disaster struck. I felt so nervous that I could feel my pulse, pounding through my body. Why was I nervous? I've been on auditions many times before. Well, this seemed incredibly important. I wasn't just auditioning for a TV show, I was auditioning to marry someone. As the blood thundered through my veins, I had a thought. I was surprised my nose hadn't started bleeding. As regular readers will recall, I had a serious nose bleed this past Wednesday, just before I was supposed to do "Big Brother's Big Mouth" (see, "Big Mouth Bad Luck?," 31 May, 2007). On that occasion, I went to the hospital and had my nose cauterized. On Saturday, I felt an irresistible urge to blow my nose. I tried to do so gently, but when I did, there was an explosion of blood and it looked like the cauterization came flying out. As a result, I have again been experiencing recurring bleeding from my nose. No sooner had I thought about bleeding, than I stated bleeding from my nose. I let one of the production people know and was led to a bathroom. There I was, miked, and ready to try to win the heart of my prospective bride and I was suffering from another nose bleed.
Spending some time in the men's room, I was joined by a cameraman! They were trying to film me attempting to stop my nose from bleeding. For the first time, I had a taste of why some celebrities get so annoyed with paparazzi. There are times when one wants a little privacy. Oh well, this is the lifestyle I signed up for. Rather quickly, I did manage to stop the bleeding. I was ready to meet Jodie. I was led around to the hot seat; a stool in front of a panel consisting of Jodie, her brother Jordan, and her good friend, Kyle. They had my answers to ten questions from the application form. I felt a little reserved at first, but they quickly put me at ease and I started to relax and let more of my personality out. I won't discuss the exact questions and answers that were given, because I don't want to possibly aid one of my competitors. I did think the interview went well.
Jodie was marvelous and my earlier concerns were laid to rest. She was nothing like she is made to look in the media. She was dressed casually, but tastefully. Jodie looked so much more beautiful than she looks in photographs. Speaking with her, I got a sense of her that couldn't be grasped from reading her book, or looking at her photographs. All too soon, it was over. She graciously autographed my book before I took my leave. All the way home I reflected on the experience. I hadn't disliked her. Quite the contrary. I found her charming and sweet. When I arrived home, after eating a late lunch, I felt tired. I decided to take a nap.
The sleep did me good. I drifted gently awake, then lay in bed, thinking about Jodie, again. Suddenly, I realized something had changed. I felt different. For the first time since I had first seen the ad, I was feeling something emotionally positive about her and the prospect of marrying her. Whatever reservations I might have had were gone. It dawned on me that I could give myself wholeheartedly, emotionally, as well as legally, to her, if I were to succeed in winning her hand in marriage. I was overcome by the realization that I really do want to marry Jodie Marsh. This was good news as well as bad news. The good news is that I could have feelings for her. Previously, I was intellectually prepared to be married to her, but not emotionally prepared. The bad news was that I was developing an emotional stake in the outcome. If I don't succeed in winning her hand in marriage, I was going to feel hurt. I had crossed a threshold. Whatever happens now, it's going to be an emotional roller coaster.
Then, the phone rang. I wondered if it was Jodie. It wasn't. It was my good friend, Jan, the artist. Earlier in the day, her daughter had broken up with her boyfriend. Jan was taking her to the cinema, to cheer her up. I love the cinema, so I invited myself along. Maybe getting out of the house and doing something would get my mind off Jodie Marsh. Ironically, the film we ended up seeing was, "Wedding Daze." Starring Jason Biggs and Isla Fisher, "Wedding Daze" is the story of two strangers who decide to get married. So, rather than taking my mind off Jodie, it made me think about her more. If you get a chance to see "Wedding Daze," do. I think it is a funny, romantic comedy. I wish I could take Jodie to see it, as it seems entirely appropriate to our situation.

Artist of the Week: CRu5H 5

This week, my artist of the Week is CRu5H 5. There's not much I can say about them, because I can't find much out about them. Apparently, they are a girl group and it seems like they are from Belgium. The main thing is that when I heard their music, I liked it. Their style is R & B/pop/hip hop. You can check them out at their Myspace page: www.myspace.com/cru5h5 . They're femmelicious!

Up the Asile With Jodie Marsh

Tomorrow is apparently the last audition for Jodie Marsh's new reality TV project. Miss Marsh has been auditioning for a husband, for a couple of weeks now. That's right, the glamour model has decided that she wants to get married, as she is approaching thirty. Her wedding, as well as her husband search, is supposedly going to be shown on MTV. Yes, you guessed it, I will be attending, tomorrow. Several news reports I have come across have said that the turnout at the earlier auditions has been poor. That can only benefit me. Less competition and all that.
The timing couldn't be better. I would like to get married again and I want to have children. Jodie desires a man willing to father kids. I don't know why members of the media are ridiculing the idea. Jodie's rival, Katie Price (AKA Jordan), met her husband, Peter Andre, on the set of a reality TV series, "I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here." I am talking this audition very seriously. Earlier tonight, I filled out the application form, which includes a number of questions. I read Jodie's autobiography, earlier this week. Tomorrow, I will be wearing my best suit and best cologne. I don't think she will find a better prospective husband than me. Let's hope Miss Marsh is able to recognize that. Wish me success.

Friday Fun

Last night, I decided to return to the Onslow Arms pub, in West Clandon, Surrey, England. I had first visited the pub two weeks ago, with my good friend, Jan, the artist. During that first visit, I was struck by the fact that almost all the patrons were aged 45-65. The other notable observation was that every woman in the place was beautiful. Yep, every single one. This probably explains why the men outnumber the women four to one. Recently, it has been suggested to me that I have been spending too much time with Jan, so I went on my own. It probably didn't make any difference, as Jan was there anyway. She let slip that she'd gone last Friday, as well, without either telling me or inviting me. She continued cordially introducing me to more of the regulars.
I recognized several people from my prior visit. The pub seems to have a regular Friday night crowd. Jackie the poet was there, wearing a sexy black mini-dress, with white boots. She reminded me of a 1960s go-go girl. Raili, an older, Finlandian beauty, spotted me and waved. I waved back. Raili lives with two toy-boys, but was alone last night. The toys were off in Spain together, working on a business project. My admiration for Raili's willingness to flout convention knows no bounds. Why stop at two toy-boys? Why not three or more? I then noticed a woman whom I had never seen before. She was tall, with legs that seemed to go on forever. With a full head of auburn hair, she wore a dark blue, pencil skirt with a slit up the back. Dark blue is my favorite color. She was perched atop stiletto heels which accentuated the shape of her legs. Her attire revealed a curvaceous body that was no less attractive for being middle-aged. She caught me looking at her and smiled. Shes a woman who probably enjoys the admiring glances of men. Later, I learned that she is Turkish, but at the moment she seemed occupied by the attention of some man.
All too soon, the landlady, Jill, called time. Not willing to call it a night, a number of the crowd gathered around the tables out front. Worried that the noise would disturb local residents, Jill urged us to leave. One of the male regulars, John, suggested that people come back to his house to continue the party. I was concerned that I was too much of a newcomer to be included, but I needn't have worried Not only did John invite me, he let me drive him home. As I was the only one who had consumed no alcohol, due to drinking sparkling water all evening, my driving was trusted. Jan also hitched a ride, as I think she was feeling the effects of several glasses of wine. John was worried about the small size of his rented residence. He referred to it as a bolt hole, more than a house. When we arrived, I thought it was a lovely little place
Once inside, I grabbed a choice seat on the couch, before it got crowded. In addition to a stereo, John had a high definition TV in his lounge. He put on a CD and tuned the TV to "Big Brother," with the audio track muted. He's got good taste in programming, as well as in TV equipment. In a few minutes, other guests started to arrive. All the beautiful women from the pub came, except Raili. This included the Turkish beauty and Carole, the sexiest social worker I have ever met. The only people younger than me were Carole's son, Tristan, and his girlfriend, a tall, curly-haired, blond beauty. They were both in their twenties and Tristan sported an imitation dreadlock hairstyle, popular with some European boys, who like to emulate Rastafarians. Tristan's girlfriend placed a bowl of mixed nuts within arm's reach, so I was happy.
Observing the bulk of the crowd, I was struck by the realization that most of them had been in their teens and twenties during the 1960s. The open friendliness of that age, reminiscent of the "free love" movement and hippies, seemed as fresh as ever, even if the bodies of the guests showed signs of age. Possibly because I was the closet to him in age, Tristan ended up talking with me. In contrast to the ageing, sixties hippies, Tristan displayed the surliness which is a trademark of many of today's youth. We started out talking about music, as Tristan is studying sound design at university, while I used to be a DJ. Somehow, the conversation drifted to cheap air travel and Tristan stressed that he hoped air travel didn't get any cheaper. He reasoned that aviation fuel is toxic and concluded that global warming was a threat to the polar bears. Dismissing his claim, I pointed out that polars bears had survived millions of years, including earlier warm periods. Fueled by alcohol, he became enraged at this. Unable to mount an intellectual response, he resorted to calling me fat, selfish, and "American." Attempting to calm him down, his mother pointed out that his cousins are American. They are due to visit for the first time, in a couple of weeks. I feel sorry for them.
Continuing his tirade, Tristan said my "leader" is a "monkey." The fact that I have lived in England since the Clinton era and have not voted in either election Bush won never seemed to occur to him. The host, John, assisted by Carole and Tristan's girlfriend, pulled him away from me, before I could point out to him that before saying my leader is a monkey, he might consider that his "Prime Minister" is then the lapdog of a monkey. Certainly that's nothing to be proud of. Tristan elected to go outside and the floor show over, conversation resumed at a more sedate level. John started a discussion about the differences between men and women, in romantic relationships. I got acquainted with Dave, who seemed to conduct himself in a gentlemanly manner. During a quiet moment, I fell asleep.
Awakening later, I found that most of the guests had left except a core few. Someone observed that it was past 3AM and things finally came to a conclusion. I drove home, noting the full moon on the way Perhaps it was the effect of the moon that caused the lunacy I had experienced at the hands of the rabid environmentalist, Tristan. Despite the hostility of one, I had enjoyed my social evening. I wouldn't mind hanging out with John, Dave, and company again. I figured this is probably the last full moon before my birthday.

It's Back!

It's that time of year again. "Big Brother" (UK) is back on Channel 4. The hit reality show began its eighth season on Wednesday, with a new twist. Eleven housemates entered the first night...all of them women. In another first, the first two of the women were twin sisters. The third entrant was a 60-year-old, making her the oldest BB housemate ever. She gives me hope, as I am only 47. Having auditioned twice, myself, I was worried that I was being passed over because of my age. My pursuit of "Big Brother" has gained a new lease on life, as I calculate I have another 13 years to keep trying
Some observers complained that an all female house would make dull viewing. As a man, I find it fascinating, because it gives me the unique opportunity to see what women get up to when none of us men are around. Already, on the first night, the girls have fondled the breasts of at least two of their fellow housemates. That is uniquely female behavior of the first degree. In a group of all males, none of us would be inclined to start fondling each other's balls. Another appealing aspect of this year's crop of contestants is that they include the largest number of beautiful women of any BB series, so far.
In any case, the experiment is about to change. Tonight, a new, male housemate will be added into the mix. What will the bevy of beauties make of him? For the past two days, they have been clamoring for some men to be put in the house. Be careful what you wish for, ladies. You might get it.