Osmosis is... With Sabrina Spellman

Let's face it, the are always a dozen jobs that need doing that we really cannot in our heart of hearts be bothered to get on with. 

During one of my classes today I discussed with some of my Latin students the concept of "mañana mañana", that being putting things off until the tomorrow which, of course, never actually comes. They were delighted to know that we have a word for it in English; procrastination.

pro·cras·ti·nate   (prō-krăs′tə-nāt′, prə-)

v. pro·cras·ti·nat·ed, pro·cras·ti·nat·ing, pro·cras·ti·nates

v.intr.

To put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness.

v.tr.

To postpone or delay needlessly.

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[Latin prōcrāstināre, prōcrāstināt- : prō-, forward; see pro-¹ + crāstinus, of tomorrow (fromcrās, tomorrow).]

---

pro·cras′ti·na′tion n.

pro·cras′ti·na′tor n.

I'd love to be able to say that I'm not a slave to this dispicable affliction, but indeed this blog itself is often a means to waste time before doing a more pressing task. Over the course of this evening, I've made four cups of tea, taken a bath, watched two episodes of American Horror Story (my new favourite show), Masterchef, and the episode of Sabrina that inspired this post's title, as well as taking various toilet and tobacco breaks, all in the vain hope that the pile of marking that I've been periodically making my way through would somehow disappear whilst I was off doing something more interesting.

But of course it doesn't. I'd like to preach to you, dear reader, on the dangers of leaving things to the last minute, but in all honesty, I would be an utter hypocrite to do so. What I will say, however, is that those dishes aren't going to do themselves, those lesson plans are going to magically fill in, and not even owning a talking feline is going to get those exam papers marked. So sure, stick the telly on, get yourself a cup of tea, but the sooner it gets done, the sooner you can relinquish that little whisper of guilt in the back of your mind.

Learn from the Spanish; tomorrow never comes.

I Want an American Cheeseburger with Tony Stark

Food has always been a comfort to me, and nothing moreso than the juicy delight that is a proper American-style cheeseburger. The succulent beef, preferably lovingly licked by the fiery fingers of a flame grill, the melted cheese, maybe a rasher of perfectly crisped bacon, some lettuce, a couple of slices of tomato, a little mustard, a little ketchup, all sandwiched between a lightly-toasted bun. Absolute perfection. But heaven forbid there be any pickles!

During my time in Japan, I will freely admit that in a bid to combat the inevitable homesickness (and as such missing of comfort foods), a large percentage of my monthly budget found itself spent on a delectable mix of Hard Rock Cafe legendary burgers and sandwiches from the Hawaiian burger specialists Kua Aina. 

Sure there were things I missed more; cheese, Marmite, Mars Bars and anything sausage-based (dear lord there were times I genuinely would have killed for toad in the hole), but at least a good burger (if overpriced) burger was always just a short car ride away.

So we've been living in Bournemouth for precisely two weeks now, and have been counting the pennies until payday comes. As such, food has been any number of creative takes on pastas, stews and rice dishes. Having worked in kitchens on and off for the last decade, I can get pretty innovative with my cooking, so at least we're getting a varied diet.

Sometimes, however, you just need a bit of stodge. Having had little in the way of proper comfort food in the last fortnight (save, admittedly, for a darn good turkey roast I threw together on Sunday), and having had a redonkulously long day, I found myself craving something junky.

So thank The Lord for Burger King. I, like our good friend Tony Stark, will fight to the death over BK's superiority over other burger chains, and agree that when you've got the "urge", there is no better place to go. 99p for a cheeseburger, my stomach and cravings were sated without my wallet being emptied.

Roll on payday, 'cause papa needs an enchilada...

Time For a Top Ten with Tim Curry

Tim Curry is truly a living legend. One of Britain's finest character actors, his career has spanned over thirty years, and brought us some of cinema's finest villains, and animation's greatest voice performances. He has also recorded some absolutely sensational albums (his rendition of Baby Love by The Supremes is an experience one never forgets) and haunted the dreams of anyone with any inkling of a fear of clowns.

This week, through happy coincidence (thank you Film4), I have had the pleasure of sitting through a number of Curry's finest films, and found myself realising that this is a man who has never given a bad performance. Sure, he's been in some bloody awful movies (Garfield A Tale of Two Kitties... Scary Movie 2... Barbie in the Nutcracker...), but hey, he still made the best of the dire scripts.

So to celebrate the awesomeness that is Timothy James Curry, and to thank him for keeping up my spirits over the last week, I decided this evening to put together a run down of my favourite Curry portrayals. originally, it was going to be a top five, but I simply could not narrow it down. So here's ten...

10. Cardinal Richelieu (The Three Musketeers, 1993)

There are two things that always come to mind when you think of this rather lacklustre Disney swashbuckler. The first is the awesome theme song from the musketeers of rock Sting, Stewart and Adams, and the second is Curry's delicious performance as the scheming cardinal. Peter Capaldi comes close in his weaslyness, but Curry will always be the definitive Richelieu.

9. Taurus Bulba (Darkwing Duck, 1991-1995)

Darkwing was by far my favourite Disney Club cartoon; sure Rescue Rangers was great, and Ducktales is more iconic, but as a kid (and even now to be quite honest), the mishaps of St. Canard's blundering superhero were utterly enthralling. The thing that made Darkwing so memorable though was its villains, and none were so sinister as crime lord Taurus Bulba, brought to glorious life by the inimitable Curry.

8. Herkermer Homolka (Congo, 1995)

Don't get me wrong, Congo is an absolutely atrocious film, which is a real shame seeing as Michael Crichton's book, upon which it is based, is one of his finest. It's one redeeming feature however, is. Curry's comedic turn as the overly camp Romanian philanthropist with one of the daftest names to ever hit the silver screen. The fact that the character isn't even in the book makes it a true Curry original!

7. Darkness (Legend, 1985)

Tom Cruise fannying about chasing after unicorns in one of the worst scripted fantasy films of all time... Let's face it, if it weren't for Curry's portrayal of the demon Darkness (obviously not supposed to be the devil!), Legend would have quite rightfully disappeared into the gallery of embarrassing eighties movies only referenced in those "way back when" specials. Unfortunately, Curry was, as always, so damn good in this film that we are cursed forever to sit through endless reruns... You win Darkness. You most definitely win...

6. Mr. Jigsaw (Loaded Weapon 1, 1993)

Loaded Weapon is one of the best, if oft forgotten, spoofs to come out of National Lampoon's calvacade. Emilio Estevez and Samuel L. Jackson solve a spate of hilarious murders all pupeteered by Curry's evil Mr. Jigsaw. Who turns up at one point in the film as a wilderness girl. If you haven't seen it, find it, love it, and thank me later.

5. Long John Silver (Muppet Treasure Island, 1996)

There are few actors who can take a role in a Muppets film (and one of the best Muppet films at that) and actually outshine the Muppets. Tim Curry as Long John is simply wonderful, both touching and treacherous at the same time, and his "only number", Professional Pirate is one of his finest musical numbers to date.

4. Dr. Frank N. Furter (The Rocky Horror Picture Show, 1975)

The role that brought Curry to the world's attention is everybody's favorite sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania. The plot is nonsense, and the second half is famously one of the weakest in MT, but how can you argue with one of cinema's greatest cult movies? And Curry never fails to leave us trembling with antici.....

3. Nigel Thornberry (The Wild Thornberrys, 1998-2004)

The Wild Thornberrys was one of Nickelodeon's most delightful shows, with a concept we can all relate to. After all, who at some point in their life hasn't dreamed of being able to converse with animal? And to have Tim Curry as their father?? Nigel is one of the most iconic cartoon characters of the nineties, and earns his place at number three on the list.

2. Wadsworth (Clue, 1985)

An all star cast in a movie based on a board game? Clue really should not have worked, and indeed still has some stigma surrounding it amongst those who have never dared watch it. The farce is hilarious, owing in abundance to Curry's mesmerising turn as master of ceremonies Wadsworth the butler, who at the same time acts as narrator, hero, comic relief, and, ultimately (depending on which ending you draw) villain.

1. Pennywise the Dancing Clown (IT, 1990)

Having haunted the dreams of anyone who has had the pleasure of watching one of cinema's greatest Stephen King adaptations, and even filling those with no previous fear of clowns with a severe case of coulrophobia, there is no way that Pennywise could come anywhere but top of the list. The embodiment of evil, Curry is almost unrecognisable as he throws himself entirely into the role, every movement, every utterance as terryfying as the last. And gosh darn did he teach us not to accept balloons from clowns in storm drains. After all, we all float down here...

Thank you Mr. Curry for making us laugh, making us sing, and terrifying us to our very souls.

Oh...

....pation!

Comfort Food with Mr. Krabs

There's nothing better than that warm feeling you get after a delicious meal. Slightly sleepy, stomach sated, it's a feeling of safety and comfort. As I sit here writing this, tummy full of a lovely home cooked Sunday dinner, I can genuinely think of few better things in life.

Today, in our quest to explore our new hometown of Bournemouth, we decided to take advantage of some cheap tickets and check out Bournemouth Oceanarium, a small aquarium just by the pier.

Now, I love aquariums. I have since I was tiny. Indeed, one of my earliest memories is of a trip to the Sea Life centre in Brighton (I believe it was Brighton... It could in fact have been anywhere south of London) when I was chosen to ride a chariot pulled by dolphins. Pretty cool nowadays, but when you're four, it's pretty much the pinnacle of coolness. Since then, I've taken every opportunity to check out aquariums anywhere that my travels have taken me.

But with these travels has also come my second passion; the aforementioned feeling of a full tum. As such, I have tried almost every bird and beast that this planet has to offer. From turtle to sea urchin, from crocodile to whale, I can unashamedly admit that whatever a chef has had the audacity to serve, I have summoned the moxy to devour.

And so, it's with a strange feeling of guilt that I will admit that aquariums have taken on a strange new form to me, and one that is scarily similar to an all-you-can-eat buffet. As we wandered through the neon tanks today I could not help but find myself thinking how tasty that spiny lobster looked, and how much I regret not getting round to trying puffer fish.

Am I a bad person? Or is the student of Anthony Bourdain that still lives within my psyche just in need of a little more culinary adventuring? I'm not sure, but one thing I do know is that every time I watch Spongebob these days, Mr. Krabs looks all the more appetising...

Somebody get me a Krabby Patty...

Laundry Day with Dr. Horrible

Doing the laundry is one of those annoying grown up things that should really be simple, but inevitably end up being a complete pain in the backside.

The process should go as follows; sort clothing, stick in washer, put washer on, wait thirty minutes then stick in dryer for required length of time. Not rocket science, and indeed on paper not fraught with the problems that always arise.

So today, after receiving some upsetting news from home, I decided the way forward was to work my way through that weekly list of niggling chores that for one reason or another always seem to plague our weekends.

Having run the vacuum cleaner through the flat, I then made my way over to the communal block of our apartments, basket sling over my shoulder like Widow Twanky and set myself up for the thirty minutes or so that would follow.

Two and a half hours later, I'm still here.

See, some doofus (I shall not take the blame for not checking) had set the machine on a full 40 degree cycle, rather than the "quick wash" to which I am accustomed. This I only came to realise over an hour after I had switched the damn thing on. In a state if panic, I twiddled the dial to "drain", thinking that with only an hour until the laundry gets locked up, I might still have time to dry the clothes within.

Well, that's the logical thing to do! I hear you cry! But alas, fair reader, upon opening the washing machine, I was confronted by a torrent of murky, soapy water, and a pile of sodden clothing. My only option was to return the dial to "quick wash" and start over again.

So here I am, sitting atop a washing machine at quarter to eight on a Saturday night (when I was so very looking forward to an evening in with The Voice), waiting for the cycle to finish and hoping that "high power" on the drier will get my clothes toasty within ten minutes.

So my advice for today; next time you're in the laundry, two hours before closing time, check that no bigger has messed with the machine, because I'm going to have to make some real puppy-dog eyes in about fifteen minutes. Either that or whip out my freeze ray. Either's good.

Friday Night In with Sarah Silverman

I think I'm getting old. 

Well, actually, as my upcoming birthday and my rapidly greying temples can attest, I am most definitely getting old. And so, at nine thirty on this fine Friday evening in a new town at the end of my first week of a new job, I find myself celebrating in the way to which I have become so very accustomed of late.

Now, don't get me wrong; during my late teens and early twenties, I was by no means against an all night dance session. Indeed, the penchant that my friends and I shared for the grimy nightclubs of Aberystwyth probably still account for many of our current debts.

So why aren't I out this evening partying with my new students? It's not like I wasn't asked to join them on their weekly pub crawl, so why am I not there? Well, the reasons are threefold.

Firstly, and excuse my uncharacteristic prudishness, but I don't want to make a drunken fool of myself in front of my new class. Admittedly, it's a rare occasion that I make a drunken spectacle, but I would rather not run the risk so early in my new job.

Secondly, and arguably the biggest factor, is that I'm budgeting to the hilt for the next week. It's been a quiet couple of months on the work front, and relocating is not cheap. Nosireebob.

Thirdly, is the fact that I seem to have reached a point in my life where more often than not, I simply can't be arsed to go out. Given the choice of a hot bath, a movie and a tasty dinner curled up on the sofa, or battling through the drunken streets to spend money that could be better spent on fun things like rent and groceries, I would choose the Radox anyday. Maybe it's a sign that I'm getting old, or maybe it's simply a portent of maturity. Or maybe they are the same thing. Who knows?

What I do know though, as I lay on the couch feeling squeaky clean in my dressing gown, chock full of tortellini and chuckling away to the complete season two of The Sarah Silverman Program on DVD is that right now, there are few things I would rather be doing. Shame I don't have any Mississippi Mud Pie. could totally go for Mississippi Mud Pie right now... 

How British TV Killed the American Sitcom with Barney Stinson

Since the invention of television, the US of A has created countless godawful feel good family sitcoms. Cringeworthy, with an all too wholesome moral conclusion to every episode, the generic, formulaic sitcom has plagued screens globally for decades.

However, there have been some gems. The fifties brought us the iconic Phil Silvers Show, with the following decade introducing us to the more far-fetched adventures of Samantha Stevens in Bewitched, as well as the creepy adventures of The Munsters and The Addams Family. 

And then we fast forward to the nineties, when the adventures of everyone's favourite Friends filled our screens. Friends was a show that gripped the world, making its stars the highest paid television actors of the time (a claim recently surpassed by the leads of The Big Bang Theory). It was a show that made us laugh, made us cry and genuinely defined a generation of coffee-slurping yuppies.

Many will argue that Friends has yet to be beaten in its position as "Greatest American Sitcom Ever", but over the last ten years, there have certainly been a few contenders, for me, they are Scrubs, The Big Bang Theory, and the truly fantastic How I Met Your Mother.

The problem is, with their critical acclaim and popularity across the pond, these shows suffered the same fate as the final few series of Friends. That fate is, of course, endless reruns on digital television,

Now, the rerunning of a great show is not in itself an issue. The thing to remember, however, is that the reason we love these shows so very much is that we engage with them. And how do we do that? We grow to love the characters as the characters grow themselves.

As such, showing random, unconnecting episodes is NOT the way to get your audience involved!

I have met so very many people who claim to hate the three aforementioned shows simply because they have only seen a couple of disjointed episodes. Take any drama, and you need to watch it in chronological order in order to follow the story arcs. Would you watch a handful of random out-of-order episodes of a soap opera and expect to enjoy it? Of course not. So how on earth do the gods of scheduling expect to attract new audiences by throwing random chapters of the greater story at the general public?

Why does the finale (let's forget about "season nine") of Scrubs still to this day reduce me to a blubbering wreck? Because I watched it in order! Why do I find myself holding back the tears at almost every single new episode of How I Met Your Mother? Because over the last nine years, I have grown with these characters and they have grown with me. These shows are well thought out and beautifully crafted. So don't fuck with them! There's a reason they are great, E4, and you are single-handedly destroying them, just like you did with Friends.

So to those of you out there eagerly awaiting the final episode in the life of Ted Mosby next week, then like me I'm sure you have a couple of boxes of Kleenex already on standby. And to those of you who have not yet discovered the comfort that lies within the walls of McClaren's pub, then switch off your freeview boxes and go and buy the first season of How I Met Your Mother. You won't regret it. It's freakin' legen....