Watch this. It’s. Fucking. Awesome.

I don’t usually watch the Eurovision Song Contest. Why? Let me say it with the words of Jon Bon Jovi, ca. 2003:

“Eurovision? Oh, it was amazing. Twenty-seven bad songs.”

(Well, that’s still not quite as many bad songs as you’ve put out in the last decade, darling.)

But this year I’m watching Eurovision. Why? Mostly because my grandma just ditched me on the phone to go watch Eurovision. And I figured I can’t be less informed than my grandma.

So here’s me watching twenty-seven okay, twenty-five bad songs. Which aren’t even all that bad so far. And since my remote Eurovision viewing company has ditched me, too, I’m having a little Eurovision twitter party all by myself. Like the little twitter slut I am.

And here goes my simultaneous attempt at blogging the whole thing live. Which is already kind of failing as the songs are too short to watch, listen, and tweet about them. I haven’t even got time to grab my coffee from the table across the room. And I need to pee! Whatever happened to commercial breaks?

All right, we just have the pleasure of seeing Spain again (with that performance, I wouldn’t even have noticed something went wrong the first time!) so the live blogging has officially failed. But at least I can catch up now before the, uhm…exciting part starts.

Here’s the Girl with a Pen Eurovision re:View in 140 or less characters, brought to you straight from my twitter timeline:

1. Azerbajan has a pretty glove. And needs dancing lessons.
2. Spain has a ballerina in pink tights. SPAIN WINS!
3. Norway goes rebel and decides to simply ditch the key. Also: zzzzzzz.
4. Moldova: GAYTASTIC! 1.000.000 points!!!!!!!!
5. In fact, Cyprus wins. Cyprus sounds a bit like James Morrison and has a gorgeous woman at the piano.
6. Hmm. Bosnia and Herzegovina rock (well, in ESC terms at least). And they’re a bit gaytastic, too.
7. Belgium: Love the title. Kermit and his guitar, not so much.
8. OMG! Serbia! GAYTASTIC!!!!!!11 The male dancer’s pink gloves don’t make the song any less horrendous, though.
9. Belarus: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…OH WAIT, SPARKLY BUTTERFLY FAIRIES!!! Belarus wins!
10. Oh, look, it’s the perfect pop ballad. Perfectly boring too, Ireland.
11. Greece…Uh, gaytastic? Hrrruh. Hrrruh. Hoppa. Disco. Hoppa.
12. And here’s the UK performing the definition of “out of key”.
13. Aw, Georgia. You could have let the singer borrow some make-up from the boys.
14. Someone should have told Turkey that mashing up metal and rap will send you burning in hell for all eternity. (Kudos to Turkey for attempting rock, though.)
15. Albania’s got awesome vocals. Shame they had to throw random disco beats on top.
16. OMG IT’S THE DISCO WHALE! #Iceland
17. Ukraine’s got Little Sexy Emo Black and Red Riding Hood with the big voice and a slightly troubled relationship with the key.
18. France brings us the perfect early-90s footbal cup hymn. About 10 years late.
19. Right. More disco beats. Romania’s piano is pretty fucking stylish, though. (Did the borrow the pianist girl from Cyprus?) AND THE PIANO’S ON FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!
20. Russia throws in a bit of snow in an attempt to make the singer look less ridiculous in his scarf. Aw, isn’t he the saddest little emo.
21. I’ll make sure Armenia’s Angelina clone gets home safely, k? She can stay with me.
22. Ohkay, for the next 3 minutes I’m officially not German. And I’m doing exactly the same Need to Pee Dance that she’s doing there! To be fair, that was the least embarrassing German candidate I have seen in my lifetime.
    [And right now it totally looks like we're totally not losing this time! I'm now officially German again.]
23. Portugal, you’re not Christina Aguilera. Which is probably a good thing. So stop trying. Please.
24. Israel: And another pretty boy in a boring suit singing another piano ballad. With violins. Zzzzzzz.
25. If Denmark’s singer had a voice and haircut to go with his coat, he’d be super metal. Not with this song, though.

Edit, 23:25

WE WIN! HELL YEAH!

I didn’t think Lena would stand a chance, to be honest. But that’s probably a result of having gotten used to the tradition of embarrassing German candidates doing an absolutely horrendous performance. Well, our girl Lena definitely did a good job compared to the last ten or so German acts I’ve seen at Eurovision. And isn’t she just the cutest!

I have to admit, I’m one of those annoying people who are always peering in your paper on the train. I’m not doing it on purpose or anything, I just never seem to get round to grabbing my own paper on the way into the station. (Okay, that’s a lie. I’m a bit OCD about getting newspaper ink all over my hands and not bothered enough about actually reading Metro or Evening Standard to tackle the ink issue.)

The one good thing about being a train newspaper parasite is that you mostly just pick up the headlines (which in the case of the free dailies is usually all you need to know) but not necessarily enough of the stories to make much sense out of them. And every now and then a headline comes along that’s so full of WTF that it totally makes your day. This little editorial gem, for example:

A ninja slug which fires love darts
(Metro)

I was nearly tempted to grab a Metro on the way to the Tube to find out all about the love-dart firing ninja slug. But that would only have ruined the awesomeness.

A close runner-up then in the Evening Standard on the train back home:

Your Tube train has been cancelled due to burning toast at the station

…probably caused by a ninja commuter firing some breakfast of mass destruction in frustration over another delay on the Circle Line.

Instead of the Picture of the Week (which, I admit, has become more of a picture of the quarter), let’s do a little round-up of videos that have kept me entertained this week.

1. Comedy: Five a Day for nerds

Okay, Annoying Orange is a bit pointless and kind of…well, annoying - but trust me, walking down the fruit aisle in your supermarket will never be the same again.

Knife!

2. Causes: Welcome to the 21st century - unless you happen to live in Mississippi

You’ve probably heard the story of Constance, the girl from Mississippi who wanted to take her girlfriend to prom and wear a tux, and the school that decided to rather cancel the prom altogether than let a lesbian couple attend. But Constance is standing up against this discrimination, supported by the ACLU. And with backup from the likes of Wanda Sykes and Ellen DeGeneres, Constance is quickly becoming an icon for the young LGBT community and the fight for equality.

And even though this story proves the sad truth of how people’s eyes and minds still need to be opened in our time, I hope it also shows every gay or lesbian teenager out there that they’re not alone and that the voices of those who decide to speak up are being heard.

3. Movies: The Oscars are so yesterday (plus I can’t be bothered to blog about them)

Quite simply the smartest and funniest pop culture spoof I’ve seen in a long time.

4. Music: Retirement should be obligatory

I used to have a lot of respect for Meat Loaf’s work, up until he completely missed the point where it would have been appropriate to take a bow and say goodbye to the business (or at least to any attempts at singing live) a couple of years ago. And now along comes this first single from his new album, which seems to promise, above all things, that the story is set to get yet a bit sadder.

Cheesy pop song aside - WTF is this video?
a) A showcase of the latest collection of pimp suits
b) An episode of Scrubs gone very wrong
c) Police Academy 8 (gone equally wrong)
d) A desperate PR stunt aiming for media attention and a week or two in the album top 100

Feel free to throw in your own suggestions.

A friend got me hooked on Dark Angel recently. It’s a show I’d always wanted to watch, but back in the days, when I was still in Germany and still watching TV, its airtime clashed with X Files, so of course Dark Angel never stood a chance. But when my friend recommended the show, along with an offer to lend me her season one DVD set, I immediately hit “pause” on my current J.A.G. DVD marathon and jumped headfirst into a post-apocalyptic Seattle in the year 2019.

And, having finished watching the first season, I can honestly say, what a freaking fabulous show!

It’s got a kick-ass heroine, a ridiculously handsome male sidekick, a story that is thoroughly interesting (and stays interesting), an amibiguous super rogue, ambiguous good guys, a range of minor characters you’d totally want as friends, settings created with a loving eye for detail, a rocking soundtrack, it’s dead funny at times and makes you cry at other times.

So why did I not head off to buy the second season as soon as the credits on the last episode rolled?

Because, for all that’s great about it, Dark Angel’s got one big, fat, annoying flaw. And even without having seen the second (and final) season, it’s easy to see how this flaw became its downfall.

The problem with this show (as with too many, sadly) is The Romance™. Of course, sparks fly from about half an hour into the pilot between genetically revved-up babe Max and her new partner in crime, the super-geeky cyberjournalist Logan. As the two get to know each other, things, of course, go from cheeky banter to cheesy heartache. And then they get complicated. And then a little more. And then the whole situation just gets really annoying.

And that’s because of the age-old drama series dilemma. Boy and girl meet, boy and girl fall in love, but boy and girl can’t get together because then all the viewers would switch off. So, the creators have to come up with a whole range of delaying tactics to keep up the promise of a happy ending for the lovebirds without ever actually providing said happy ending. Popular plot devices to delay the romance include higher powers or fateful events separating our heroes*, antagonists drizzling seeds of doubt over the unfortunate lovers’ budding relationship, other love interests being half-heartedly injected into the story (which seemed to be Donald P. Bellissario’s method of choice to get people to switch off J.A.G - it worked for me, at least), and all sorts of other way-out-there plot twists that are generally so obvious that they could as well be replaced by a banner saying “This is our sorry attempt to keep you watching this show”.

Dark Angel’s got plenty of those delaying devices, and although, to be fair, some of them actually work in the plot, they mostly have you grumbling in frustration in the last third of season one. Apparently, in the second season the creators solved the romance problem by infecting the heroine with a virus designed to specifically kill her sweetheart, so the two have to spend the entire season apart. Which is just about the dumbest romance delaying plot device I’ve ever heard of. And that’s exactly why I hit the “close window” button rather than the “add to chart” button on the Dark Angel - Season 2 Amazon page.

It’s a shame really, how all this drama about Max and Logan dragged down the appeal of Dark Angel episode by episode. Because that aside, it’s a really great show, and from the foundations that were laid down in the first season it could have gone on to tell a whole lot of original stories. If only they had cut the emo bullshit of the star-crossed lovers eating their hearts out for each other.

Early on in the season, the chemistry between Max and Logan was actually cool. If the creators had left it at that, it could have turned out as a convincing partnership-friendship, without all the pining and pouting and angst and jealousy. Kind of like on X Files, where our two heroes never got it on (well, until the end, where it gave the show some sort of really nice closure), and where the character/relationsip development served as a basis to tell great stories rather than to send the viewer round in circles until the creators found a way out of the romance plot trap they have maneuvered themselves into.

So, after this little excursion into Dark Angel - which was actually good fun overall, if only it had lasted longer - I’m going to return to my J.A.G marathon in an attempt to last until the end this time. But I’m just getting near the point where the delaying tactics kick in, so I might be selling off my remaining DVD sets in frustration really soon. If anybody’s got any recommendations for good shows that don’t annoy the hell out of you with all that romance crap, drop them right here!

*Yes, I’m looking at you, Chris Carter. We all know Mulder only got abducted because he and Scully had just started to make babies!

Or, wait. Maybe it was them!

(Via Oddly Specific)

My fellow X Philes are hopefully in hysterics right now. Anything else would mean I’m way beyond weird.

All non-nerds please click here.

1. Nine stars Sophia Loren, Judi Dench, Nicole Kidman, Penelope Cruz, Kate Hudson, Marion Cotillard, Fergie and Daniel Day-Lewis. That’s about as many grand names as you can fit on a movie poster. (With exception of the upcoming Valentine’s Day, maybe.) And that exactly is its curse, too. Packed with so much fame and talent, it has to be amazing. Otherwise it will just be “hmm, well, bit dissapointing, don’t you think?” The missed chance here? Well, let me just say it wasn’t amazing.
2. Despite the high density of talent, charisma and glamour on the screen, this film manages to be exceptionally bland. And “bland” is by no means a lazy writer’s comment. I’ve tried for the last two hours to come up with an adjective that describes the experience. Nine is definitely not amazing, great, cool, good, decent. But the thing is, it’s so…well, bland, that I can’t even call it bad. It’s just sort of neutral. Like the colours of the iconic Italy it’s trying to bring to life (not very successfully so).
3. It suffers from a distinct lack of plot. I know, I know - that’s the point. The Maestro doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing when trying to make his new film. But we would also get that without the film itself demonstrating that it doesn’t have a clue as to what it is doing either.
4. In a way following on from 3., the film is of course based on a musical. And musicals tend to get away with being a bit light on the storyline side, mainly because they’ve got all that singing and dancing and being glamorous and stuff. But there are also things that musicals aren’t very good at, one of them being the subtler notes and the more intimate acting. When a musical gets transformed into film, you’d kind of expect them to make use of the chances offered by the medium (as Chicago and Phantom , for example, have done rather impressively.) Nine just sort or randomly puts people into costumes and makes them burst out into song right in the middle of what otherwise could have been nicely done non-musical scenes.
5. The characters are exceptionally lifeless. Except for the Maestro (Day-Lewis) maybe, but even in his case you get bored of all the eccentricity and torturedness after the first hour. And the women are basically just assorted puppets:
   • The loving, faithful, silently suffering little wife (Cotillard) loving and suffering so faithfully and silently that it just makes you wanna be sick.
   • The hyper-sexy, naive mistress (Cruz) being so over-the-top pouty and clingy that she’s almost comical - sadly without being the least bit funny.
   • The whore (Fergie) who was apparently the Maestro’s first temptation (and brings us the only really impressive musical number) but somehow remains shockingly unattractive in all her aggressive sexuality and completely loses out on the temptation bit.
   • The muse (Kidman) who’s sort of elusive in a trademark Kidman-esque way, but the film fails to turn that elusiveness into her character’s significance - which means she’s basically just irrelevant.
   • The maternal best friend (Dench) who’s mainly babbling good advice in a maternal best friend sort of style and therefore loses most of the impact she could have had.
   • The late mother, whose absence apparently accounts for the Maestro’s tortured soul and screwed-up love life - but since the film somehow forgets to tell us how and why, she also becomes pretty much irrelevant.
   • And the slutty fashion journalist who’s entirely irrelevant from the start and probably serves the sole purpose of suggesting that fashion journalists generally flash their hold-ups at/hand their hotel keys over to anyone remotely famous.

   (They all look hot in their little song and dance outfits though.)

6. Even though being some of Hollywood’s most worshipped beauties, the women appear flawed. Penelope is a bit wrinkly, Kate looks like her mum, and Fergie’s got some horrendously bad skin and seems to be missing a neck. Now don’t get this wrong. I’m all for real women and a revival of un-Photoshopped magazine covers and stuff. But this is a musical, and in musicals people just have to be shiny and beautiful and perfect and a bit unreal. That’s just, ya know, unwritten musical law. Musicals just aren’t the place for harsh reality and the scolding finger of ethics.
7. The singing ranges between moderate and awful. Even Fergie’s song (Be Italian), although choreographed and shot beautifully, occasioually wanders along the edge of borderline painful.
8. Kate Hudson kind of looks like Goldie Hawn. Which is kind of distracting. (Okay, so I was short of one reason for my list.)
9. And then there’s Sophia Loren. Which, in principle, is tremendous, amazing, wonderful. Except that she’s somehow not really there. And I don’t mean because she’s playing the Maestro’s late mother. It just seems as if they weren’t really sure what to do with her in the film, so she just makes a few random appearances. It’s kind of like they cut out a photo of Sophia Loren and stuck it onto some of the scenes. Which is not only a total waste of Sophia Loren, but also quite a big disappointment when you’ve been looking forward to seeing her in a film for months.

Verdict: Does make you wanna sing and dance though. In your underwear.

Here in the house where I live, we’ve got a shared washing machine and tumble dryer for all the tenants to use. Everybody’s got their assigned time slots, which are approved by the landlord and clearly stated in a timetable next to the washing machine.

Today, and not for the first time, my laundry and I arrived at the washing machine at the start of our time slot, only to find somebody else’s laundry doing happy rounds right there, with about an hour remaining for the programme to finish.

After dragging my laundry basket up the stairs again, I decided to post a note for the Laundry Time Thief on the washing machine to sort out the issue. Without thinking much about it, I started writing down a simple and straightforward: “Dear XY, you could at least have asked before using my assigned time slot.”

Then I remembered that I was in England.

So, now instead the note says: “I’m sorry if there was some kind of misunderstanding. I might be mistaken in assuming that this particular time slot was supposed to be reserved for me…”

Don’t say I haven’t learned nothin’ in my 16 months in this country.

Either way, it didn’t exactly improve my current laundry situation.

The five-colour flashing lights in your window are a cause of epilepsy, not a Christmas decoration.

Here, have a bit of good taste. Apparently, it doesn’t come for free.

Thank you so much.

Thank you for giving me a gift box of (apparently) 60 quids’ worth of Stuff I Did Not Ask For And Do Not Need. Especially the yo-yo and the neon stickers of Nintendo controls and ghetto blasters. (Tip for your marketing team: You might want to do some sort of survey of your customers’ average age next time.) And thank you also for the many little bags full of little cards advertising Orange extras I already know about thanks to you pestering me by text all the time. And finally, thank you for the ugly headphones, which I can’t even use with my new phone as you’ve been considerate enough not to include an adaptor. So basically, thanks for a whole bin bag full of pormotional rubbish, and for the pleasure of carrying it all home in a ridiculously oversized box during Tube rush hour.

I really, really appreciate it.

I would have appreicated it even more if I had been sold my new Tocco Lite at the price at which it was actually advertised in your shop, rather than being offered a phone for £79 and then, after spending half my lunch break going through all the paperwork and stuff, being informed just as I was about to pay, that actually the price had gone up to £89 this morning. Which, apparently, nobody in your lovely Fleet Street store bothered to check before or while offering me said phone at the old price.

But never mind. At least you’ve made up for it all with a big box of useless things.