Crazycrone (crazycrone) wrote,

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Still Stewin'...

No further info on the op. I've spoken to them, and await further news. I have to schlep to the hospital clinic at London Bridge early (groan) Monday morning for scans, etc. It would certainly be my luck if it turned out to be something serious just when I seem to be in with a chance of possible rehabilitation. Well, the less I dwell on it all the better.
Noel Fielding's LUXURY COMEDY Thursday night was a bit of a letdown. The expected wonderfully weird characters and images OK, but, alas no larfs. It may improve, though.
I've been indulging my love of old-time bohemians...After reading QUIET DAYS IN CLICHY I watched the 1970 film which offered just what I wanted in terms of B&W scenes of raffish old Paris environs, but had the two worst actors in the world as 'Joey and Carl' and the endless scenes of them having it away with equally unappealing (to me-) women didn't do a lot for me. There was also a horribly catchy score by Country Joe McDonald, whose voice always did irritate me, which I think I'm doomed to be earwormed by for some considerable time.
Must say, I don't know how close to reality Miller's erotic adventures were, but those guys could be pretty unpleasant; cheerfully cheating poor crazy whores out of their money, and most nastily, keeping an under-age simpleton as a sex toy.
CELEBRITY BIG BROTHER was so dire even I couldn't watch it regularly, but last night, a highly emotional woman I know nothing about, Denise Welch, beat the 'disgraced X-Factor contestant'  Frankie Cocozza, to the prize. The young women were a particularly tragic lot. In addition to the usual straw-like hair extensions, fake tans, and synthetic bazookas, they  all seemed to wear skin-tight dresses that barely covered their buttocks, and stiletto heels at all times. Then they'd brag about what great self-esteem they had, and how they hoped to give good example to other young women. *Sigh*
Yesterday, I ventured into Harvey Nicholls for the first time in my life. Surprisingly, it was neither all that posh (except for the scary gauntlet of uniformed cosmetic saleswomen I had to negotiate on the ground floor-) nor at all interesting (except for the exotic foodstuffs on the fifth floor. There are still people in the world prepared to pay £42.00 for a Jelly Belly dispenser...


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