Friday, July 27, 2007

Space Chickens Are Chickens in Space

Gah! Gerk! Pfui! - and other noises of disgust and annoyance. My sleep patterns are all ballsed up again - all my own fault.

Tonight, after a long day frolicking with the kids and trying to persuade them at meal times that bread pudding is wonderful - which it is - I think I just need to find a sexier name for it. 'Bread Pudding' just doesn't have "Mmmmmm-yummy!" written all over it. I really like it though. It's good old British stodge, the sort of food that made the Empire great and constipation a national obsession for a hundred years. Working class, frugal food, the major constituent is stale bread and, cheapness and ease of manufacture aside, a favourite of mine. I wish other people in this house liked it too - because I made a hell of a lot of it yesterday. Half a fridge full.

So, to get back on track, tonight, after this fun-filled day moving stuff around the house trying to make it look smaller and trying to convince the kids to try some of their cultural food heritage by burying it under custard, I flopped in front of box to watch, for a change, a good movie (or at least not a Teenage Lesbian Vampire Zombie Bikers From Outer Space Vs Gozilla's Evil Twin Sister 2* type movie) . I chose to watch Confidential Report a deliriously weird, Orson Welles flick. One of those ones he kept adding bits to as and when he had the money, wherever he happened to be in the world, even if it meant having to rewrite great chunks of dialogue that had already been shot. For half of the movie no one's voice is saying what their mouths are. It is a very strange, very funny, very odd movie. I love it to bits.

I fell asleep within 10 minutes. And woke up several hours later unable to move my neck, with the DVD starting over again.

How is it I can stay riveted to incoherent tosh about Belgian kick-boxing aliens and fat Japanese men in rubber suits belting the crap out of each other while standing on a model of Tokyo but anything of any quality sends me into a drooling stupor? I've gone wrong. I need my critical faculties rebooting.

So now it is 2 am. I have just spent 2 hours drawing a loaf of bread for a cartoon that isn't that funny anyway. At least it won't go stale.







*obviously the original, not the remake. The remake was crap.


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2 comments:

John Self said...

You see your kids know that anything called 'pudding' should be either fruit-flavoured (and no, raisins don't count) or chocolate-flavoured. This is a piece of wisdom I have been happy to carry forward into adulthood.

Anonymous said...

I love bread pudding. As long as it has big fat juicy sultanas in it, and nutmeg, there's no such thing as stale. Anyway, who needs sleep?

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