4 September 2009

I have a complete inability to have more than just the one cog grinding within my hazy head. Anybody who has witnessed me attempting verbal coherency at the same time as texting, or verbal coherency when holding the lead of a curious dog taking me for a walk, or verbal coherency at all really, knows this. Unfortunately. So, to counter this mental dyspraxia (because a day without a reference to some sort of dyspraxia is a day wasted, according to the Pichon school of thought) I regularly jot notable things down. On scraps of paper, in notebooks, typed into draft blog posts...

On opening a draft post with a swift tap of the keyboard (which, incidentally, is not half as satisfying as ripping open real post, flourishing the letter opener with violent excitement) I discovered I had written the three following things:

Chuck Bass looks like Voldemort.

Tights are NOT pants.

Penn Badgley = HOT

After a moment of mystification, I concluded that I must have been suffering from mental exhaustion, become cuckoo due to too much time spent with only my own lunacy for company, and been not a little bit drunk.

I shall explain myself. Last week I made the grave, grave mistake of getting into Gossip Girl. Yes, the American show that is taking over the world. There is no need to look at me like that, I am aware that I have reached new lows and I feel suitably dirty and ashamed. But hangovers, the big bed of G, and the new-found freedom of lazy days after a week of office slavery does things to a girl... Such as driving her to watch 10 episodes in one day. I am not proud.

I am, however, a working girl once more, so the slovenly rut has thankfully ended. Though my addiction to those irresistible Upper East-siders and their glossy, bitchy world continues. After a long week, a glass of wine (or more) and an episode (or two) is the perfect way to unwind.
And the dapper suited villain of the show Chuck Bass does look like Voldemort. The Queen Bee Blair Waldorf was most correct when she shouted at one of her fawning underlings that 'Tights are NOT pants!'. And the brilliantly named actor Penn Badgley is indeed one of the most beautiful men that ever graced this planet. So actually, I made perfect sense. Even through my overdose fug of trashy pop-culture and wine. Thank goodness I had the foresight to note these gems down... We wouldn't want any of my valuable pearls rolling away now.

6 comments:

Ma said...

I blame your father - getting us all into watching ridiculous series on TV and we all become obsessive and start talking rubbish; to wit I have become addicted to Firefly................

Nicky said...

Perhaps more so than that of heroin, an addiction to firelfly is however nothing to ashamed of.

anna said...

Hell no! And I knew she'd be converted in the end. Serenity is to Firefly what morphine is to heroin. I prefer the hard stuff! Nobody, mother, can resist the lure of smouldering Mal and his sci-fi western world. Not even you and your high-brow sensibilities.

Nicky said...

wait hang on. i got the wording of my comment a wee bit wrong. i do not condone the use of heroin but i can recognise that its very addicting just as much as firefly is and an addiction to firefly is nothing to be ashamed of. thats what i really meant.

Ma said...

Nick and Anna - check out the boots on Jess' blog, the best find ever, and you will both so want them.

anna said...

I HEART them! The construction utensils are pretty splendid too... Not enough to warrant a cute little kid delivered by a stalk, but almost!