The Monkey Princess (stellanova) wrote,
The Monkey Princess

Aww, man, the whale who visited London is dead. I feel very sad about that. It was such a magical sight, and I wish its story could have had a happy ending. The Observer's Euan Ferguson has written some pretty obnoxious pieces in the past, but his rather sweet article on the whale made me a bit teary.

I also liked Rachel Cooke's article on how Desperate Housewives is, well, shit. I have been maintaining this since this over-rated piece of not-camp-enough rubbish became an inexplicable hit. As the Fug Ladies said, "we need a Dynasty, and you, Desperate Housewives, are no Dynasty." How true! Krystal Carrington going mad and throwing plates dressed in a glittering sequined gown while announcing "dinner is served!" - hilarious. Teri Hatcher falling over - not hilarious. I mean, Footballers' Wives is more entertaining than DH, because it is unashamedly and absolutely insane. It's not trying to be edgy and dark, unlike DH, which can't even do edgy and dark properly. It's just preposterously and unpretentiously camp and entertaining. DH, on the other hand, is unfunny and boring. It's not camp enough, and it's not fucked-up enough. It falls between just about every stool there is. Why it is so popular is beyond me. I'd rather watch Marcia Cross in Melrose Place. At least Melrose Place didn't think it was witty and subversive.

But there's more to my weekend than whining about the media! In non-cultural news, felinitykat is here, and it is lovely to see her again! I met her, leedy, glitzfrau and jane_the_23rd for dinner and drinks on Friday (after doing a lunchtime interview that ended up lasting for five and a half hours and turned into early-evening drinks - I am a journalistic cliché! At last!), and then last night Patsington and I joined Kat and glitzfrau and some of Kat's charming Dublin chums for dinner. Patsington and I then headed off to a friend's birthday bash in Dice Bar, where everyone shouted to be heard over the (admittedly excellent) music. I can't object too much to music in pubs when it's Johnny Cash and the Specials, but after several hours one's throat does feel the strain of shouting (yes, even mine) and not being able to talk to more than one person at a time means that group conversations are impossible, which is a bit frustrating. Still, it was a great evening, and Patsington and I sensibly left the partying hordes on their way to get pizza and went home at one. We further proved our staidness this morning - I was sitting on the couch knitting and listening to Just a Minute while Patsington read Brideshead Revisited, and we both simultaneously realised that this scene could have been taking place in the '50s (well, JaM didn't start until the '60s, but the "listening to BBC radio comedy" element carries through to earlier decades). And later on we're going to go for a country walk to see our new equine friend Kevin Anyway. We get more and more old fashioned as we get older, we really do...
Tags: day by day, kultur, patsington
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