Lions & Tigers & Bears , Oh My…..
Oh my giddy aunt, Ye gods and little fishes etc etc. What a perfectly ghastly week. I can’t believe I survived it. Yesterday for example, I had two meetings, one took 40 minutes, the other 20 minutes. Total travel time, 8½ hours. No, that was not a typo. Maximum distance of each journey from my house, 20 miles. Can you Adam and Eve it? Needless to say, the pollen count was like a gazillion. There’s a maximum dose for antihistamines, you say? Not when you’re about to scratch out your own eyeballs, there isn’t. So, thank you very much Southern Trains and SouthWest trains. You’ll be glad to know I eventually repented of the baroque curses I was directing at your management, the only one of which I care to share being that I hope all your teeth fall out. (It was a really bad day!). Any teeth that fell out between the thought and the repentance will just have to be put down to occupational hazard, sorry. Believe me, ALL your unfortunate passengers hate your living guts; you’re getting off lightly.
Anyhoo, in the midst of this insanity, I had the misfortune to read a puff article about an actress who shall remain nameless. AlaraApothecary: trolling is not our way. Usually, I don’t read these mindless pieces of stupidity as they make me suicidal, but seeing there were no trains to jump in front of, and I was stuck in commuter-purgatory, I foolishly risked it. After the usual flummery about empowerment, accompanied by the obligatory bimbo-esque poses, (irony by-pass), she explained how she was helping the sisterhood by insisting the film company pay for a nanny ( or was it nannies?) while she was on set. If they wanted to get the best performance from her( no, she’s not playing Cordelia in King Lear), it was the least they could do. I feel empowered already. All of us should go to work on Monday and inform Tesco, Sainsburys, TfL or wherever we work that we need personal, full-time nannies at the company’s expense so we can do our very best work on the tills or on the shopfloor or in the clinic, or wherever. Don’t worry if you don’t actually have a child; ask for the nanny anyway, because you’re worth it 🙂 I can totally see why she can’t pay for her own childcare, what with earning only $20 million a movie. I may well start a crowdfund for her, please give generously.
Not to abuse the poor girl, I’m hoping for her sake that she was misquoted or something. It did make me wonder though; at what point after you become rich and famous do you lose all touch with reality? When do you start believing that because the paid yes-people around you constantly agree with you, you must be the Messiah the world ths been waiting for? I won’t mention Mr A Blair at this point because 150,000 deaths and counting is no matter for frivolity. There is a theory that the poorer the person’s childhood was, the more they are likely to become egomaniacal narcissists if they become successful. Nah, I know plenty of these idiots from 24-K have-yacht backgrounds. I may even be one myself, uh oh. It reminds me of the poem:
See the happy moron,
He doesn’t give a damn.
I wish I were a moron.
My God! Perhaps I am!.
There was nothing else to do except come home, slump on the sofa, guzzle a pizza and hit the Jose Cuervo and look at many, many images of beautiful items by designers who fortunately don’t give interviews about empowerment. The only thing that could have made it even better would have been wearing that amazing dress while eating the pizza (size 34, UK; post-pizza). I leave you with the cheesy joke of the week:
Q: Why did the chicken go to the séance?
A: To get in touch with the other side.
Tap once for yes, twice for no 🙂 Have a fab, ouija-free weekend. Seriously, don’t mess with that stuff. AlaraApothecary: we do our best to minimise your need for exorcism.
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