Monthly Archives: July 2003

Thoughtful Thursday

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I dug out my old card from when I went to the gym two years ago. On some equipment I was lifting 100 lbs more than I’m doing now. I had no idea I was that strong back then.

I saw “View From The Top”, the Gwyneth comedy about an air hostess. It was silly and funny and also had a nice kind of “go for your dreams!!!” message, but then at the end it got all romantic and ended on a very unsatisfying note.

At the end of the film there were amusing outtakes, including one curious scene were Ms Paltrow and Mike Myers were instead of saying “bullshit” (which is how the dialogue appeared in the proper film), they both said “bull s”. Why? Was there some sort of niceness clause in someone’s contract? Were the curse words dubbed in later? Hmmm…

Two trailers before the film got me excited. The first was for “Down with Love”. I saw it on the plane from London to Bangkok (I think… It’s all a blur). Even though it was on the crappy inflight video screen, with people continually walking in front of it, and even though it was the lite airline edit of the film, I still really enjoyed it. Really cool, witty, stylish romantic comedies are rare.

The other trailer was for “Freaky Friday”. OMG yes, it’s been remade. Jamie Lee Curtis is the mom and some red head girl is Annabel. This excites me because when I was ten years old the 1976 “Freaky Friday” was my favourite movie in the world, ever. Jodie Foster was so incredibly cool as Annabel and Barbara Harris kicked arse as Mrs Andrews. One of my prized possession is a paperback copy of the book, complete with Ms Foster on the cover. The book is better than the movie (no dorky Disney ending), and I have the first paragraph permanently seared in my memory.

The new “Freaky Friday” looks like it’s a totally new story. Rather than the mind swap just happening of its own accord, instead it’s the result of some magical fortune cookie or something dumb like that. The 2003 Annabel looks like Avril Lavigne and she’s in a rock band. The mom is divorced and is going to marry some guy that Annabel doesn’t like. Damn, I liked it better when the mom was a velvet pants suit wearing housewife. But I’m excited. Obviously, it will be nowhere near as cool as the original “Freaky Friday” was for me when I was ten, but I’ll see it anyway.

Extreme DIY

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My pectoral muscles hurt. It’s strange sensation because I don’t normally think of there being any muscles on my chest.

Yesterday I went to my old gym for the first time in two years. Since I left they moved into a new building. The old one had treadmills, bikes etc, circuit weight machines and various other weights. The new one has all that plus a pool, sauna, hot pool, steam room and an exercise room for stuff like Pilates. Thankfully there are no TVs or the kind of freaky maniacal aerobics classes that places like Les Mills have.

A friend of mine also went to the same gym as me. We used to email each other with the membership numbers of famous people whose workout cards we’d found in the card boxes. I was pleased that I was on heavier weights than a popular newsreader. Our former boss also went to that gym and my friend added a note on his hard under the injuries section saying that he’d suffered a rectal strain.

Ah, those were the good old days. Of course now my strength and fitness ain’t what it used to be. I want to be a lean, mean, LiveJournalling machine. Actually, I’d settle for human rather than machine.

Oh, it was horrible last night. The power supply for my computer stopped working! Arrgh! So once the battery was used up I didn’t know what to do with my evening. I watched TV but it felt so empty.

That reminds me, I should write something about “Extreme Makeover” which is now my new favourite TV show.

Reality

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The grand finale of Big Brother was a little anti-climactical. I mean, Regina was a massive favourite right from the beginning. She was always the most popular housemate on the weekly online polls. The only thing resembling a shock eviction was yesterday when Daniel was evicted ahead of Chrissie. But Regina won, totally breaking the Australian BB trend where the most boring, nicest male wins.

Someone one asked me why I never write about politics. It’s basically because I don’t particularly care about politics. I don’t even know if I’m left wing or right wing. All I know is I’m not bloody centre and parties like United Future make me feel ill with their caring niceness.

But then I was thinking about the times when I am interested in politics and I realised that it’s when there’s an upcoming election. Then I thought about why politics is interesting then and I realised that it’s the same thrill that a reality show like Big Brother or American Idol gives. You’ve got a bunch of people who are competing for a highly sought after position. They have to win the public over with their skills, talents and basic personality. The public then gets to vote for who they want to win.

Watching the live results coming in on election night is as thrilling as watching the final of Big Brother or American Idol. But because the government of this country sees fit to only hold an election once every three years, my yearning for such televisual thrills is filled with reality shows.

Pop a cap in yo’ remix

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What happened to the remix? I remember back in the day when a remix just meant a regular song with different music or beats. But now remixes are almost different songs all together. Like, why do a cover of an old Phil Collins song when you can rewrite one of your own songs a couple of months after it’s first released.

Fo’ example. R. Kelly has this song called “Ignition” which is a slow R&B jam using the car as a metaphor for sexual activity, but at the same time describing sexual activity in a car. At the end of this song is a preview of the alleged remix, which was in turn released as a single which everyone knows and loves. It’s the freakin’ weekend and everyone’s forgotten about Mr Kelly’s underage misadventures.

Which leads me (via the remix route, not the underage route) to the Aaliyah song “Miss You”, a slow soul ballad about missing someone who’s gone away (Or is dead, maybe. Possibly Tupac. Maybe she’s missing herself from beyond the grave. I dunno, I can’t be bothered looking up the lyrics). Anyway, there’s a remix of it with Jay Z rapping all around it and in one point he gives a shout out to what sounds like “soldiers and soul jets”. It took me a while before I realised that it was soldiette, i.e. a lady soldier. It’s cool when rappers talk about “niggers and niggettes”, but when a girl has a gun, cutesyfying her role with an -ette is possibly not a wise move.

Saturday, Tuesday

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The Face magazine continues to freak me out. I’d just picked up the August edition (air freighted, from Magazzino, v. good) and was reading the editorial. Editor Neil Stevenson had made a list of “my favourite people this month”. In the middle of it I was shocked to read:

Les Mills
The former New Zealand shot putter who invented Body Pump.

A quick look at the Les Mills web site reveals that it was his son Phillip Mills (OMG, Phil Mills) whose work lead to the creation of Body Pump (quick, put his picture on a dollar note). Les Mills is the man who, as mayor of Dorkland, started what was to become the Britomart fiasco, which in turn lead to the people’s transport centre that is nearing completion. Can we blame him for the ’70s gay disco interior?

Ah, but Orlando Bloom was on the cover, so really, all is forgiven.

I was at St Lukes today and so were about a million other people. I heard a mother calling after her small daughter, “Choose! Choose!” It seemed like a really strange thing for a parent to yell at their kid. “Choose! Tuesday! Come here, Tuesday!”. Oh yes, a parent who’d named their kid Tuesday, or Tues for short.

She shares this name with actress Tuesday Weld (real name Susan) and Tuesday Roberts-Warner, the lovechild of Carmen and Guy on Shortland Street. Lucky her – at school she’ll be surrounded by dozens of Madisons, Tylers, Rubys and Connors, but I bet she’ll be the only Tuesday.