Yahoo! Mariah's at it again

I've just been to check my email, and blow me, if it isn't Mariah Carey in her skimpiest underwear (lingerie, if you prefer that kind of thing) in an advert on the side of the page. Apparently advertising her new perfume. (As an aside, I recently saw a tv advert for this and was convinced that the perfume was called Ham. Turns out it's just called 'M'. Pfft.)

Now I know that it's not possible to tailor these things to suit everyone's delicate sensibilities, but heavens above! All I wanted to do was read my emails, not stare in thinly disguised astonishment at a half-nekkid laydee.

Where will it all end, I ask myself? Pictures of a topless Tony Blair, exhorting us to vote Labour? Peter Stringfellow clad only in a Noddy posing pouch, advertising the dubious charms of his clubs? (Though, to be fair, I've seen worse than that in heat magazine)

It just doesn't bear thinking about, does it?

How It's Made
I've spent most of the morning watching this. It's like Stop, Look and Listen for grown-ups. It's really quite fascinating to discover the processes behind the manufacture of everyday objects, some of which are intriguingly complicated. Mind you, there are a couple of them that make for quite unsettling viewing. The segment on automated milking wasn't too bad, but the one covering battery chickens was just awful. Poor wee chickens.

MythBusters
I've not seen this yet today, but I try to see it whenever I can. It's an incredible show. One of the most entertaining science shows I've seen in a long time. (With the possible exception of Brainiac: Science Abuse - though that's more to do with Richard Hammond than anything else - to my eternal shame.) Mythbusters is one of those programmes that makes you think 'I'd really love to work on that.' If you get a chance, see it.

Other than that I've been indulging in watching the brilliant James Stewart. It's a double bill on ITV1 - Harvey followed by Destry Rides Again. I've seen them both several times before but hell, I could watch him reciting the phone directory and it would still be wonderful. In fact, all I need to make it an absolutely perfect Sunday is a showing of either The Philadelphia Story or It's A Wonderful Life.

Time for another post

Well, it's been a while hasn't it?

Mainly due to the fact that I can't really think of a huge amount to say these days. I'm hoping that it'll pass soon though.

And of course, I've had a week away at my mother's. Which was lovely. And no, that's not sarcasm you can detect. I really did enjoy myself. A whole week (and a bit) to sit back, relax and isolate myself from everything. Well, apart from crap telly and lots of books (okay, 4 of them).

I also managed a trip to the hairdresser, which is always entertaining. I don't know if it's a northern thing, but every person who was in there came out with 'big hair'. The hole in the ozone layer wasn't caused by pollution, I'm certain it's solely due to northern hairdressers and vast amounts of hairspray. Mine was solid when I left. I also had 'big hair' even though I have it cropped short. Of course, I then spent the next few hours desperately trying to tame the bouffant. Still it wasn't quite as amazing as the frankly spectacular mullet. Which was being streaked. The lady in question was probably in her late fifties (either that or she'd had a rough paper round) and was heading off later in the week to Ibiza. Scary.

That brings me on to the next thing. The conversations you're expected to have when you're sat there in the chair. I'm not that good with chatting to people I barely know. Small talk I can do, but this ends up being miniscule talk. Strangely though, the other ladies in the salon didn't seem to have any problem with it. Of course, once I got home I imagined the way that a conversation might go (had I not been more worried about what the hell they were doing to my hair):

'Are you going out anywhere special tonight?' 'Errr... no. It's a Wednesday. I'm in a small village and I have no car. I'm going to be spending a thrilling evening huddled over a TV dinner.'

'Going anywhere nice on your holidays?' 'This IS my holiday. Yes, I know, it's a real jet-set life I lead.'

'Been watching the football?' 'No. In fact I'd rather eat my own liver, and I'm a vegetarian.'

After all that, I think it was probably a good thing I didn't really say much.