Since it feels like I’ve been working for three straight days without respite (oh my own bed, how I’ve missed you…) I haven’t had time to do much other than sample the odd little nugget of entertainment…or morsel of snack food. This is my life this week, shows about sex, and chocolate. I feel that was an important comma right there.
I always see the TV series Hung on sale at JB Hi-Fi and it intrigues me. Not enough to buy it, but enough to watch it if I ever come across it on Foxtel. Well apparently Tuesday was that day, and I watched about three episodes. It…was OK. Maybe we’ve all just been spoiled by Golden Age of Television shows, because it was a good show and everything…but it didn’t make me want to go out and buy it and binge watch the entire thing. It’s no Game of Thrones or anything. And I guess it sounds ultra spoiled of me when that’s the standard upon which I’m judging TV shows, by the level to which I can get obsessed with it and watch it for ten days straight. Hung is a good show. I shouldn’t be so harsh. I feel bad.
Continuing with the theme, I watched Sex Tape today. I like Cameron Diaz a lot, but it was kind of shitty, and this time I don’t feel like my lofty standards are to blame. It just wasn’t any good, by any measurement. I liked the overall theme of marriage rekindling in the beginning, and the scene with her and Rob Lowe doing blow was kind of OK, but mainly…it just wasn’t funny. It didn’t make me laugh at all. That’s a pretty glaring flaw in a comedy. I do not recommend that anyone waste 90 mins of their life on it. I think my favourite part was Rob Lowe blasting Slayer for 30 seconds. I think the most disturbing part was Young Cameron Diaz wearing a skirt with the EXACT same pattern as my floral shorts discussed in my last post. Totally freaked me out.
To not continue on the same theme whatsoever, I tried a raspberry flavoured Tim Tam yesterday, which kind of also counts as trying Tim Tams in general for the first time in a while. Full disclosure: I don’t really like Tim Tams. I feel like any Australian reading this will be wondering where the hell my parents went wrong to create such a blaspheming demon child. And if you live anywhere else, you’re probably thinking, “what the hell is a Tim Tam?”
I see Americans and the like reading my blog and I sometimes wonder…how on earth do you understand a thing that I’m saying? I’m sure there are Australians who get all of my cultural references who still don’t know what I’m banging on about. When I write, for the most part it is for an audience of one: myself. I write to amuse myself, and if anyone else understands me, well that’s just a bonus. Which is a tendency I’ve had to fight doggedly while writing this blog. But I can’t even imagine trying to decipher my rambling if you have no concept of Tim Tams (chocolate biscuits). Or JB Hi-Fi (entertainment store) or Foxtel (cable). Or trackie dacks (sweatpants). Or cricket or Aussie Rules. I mean, Americans barely understand soccer, right?
It’s funny how much comprehension of the simplest things is taken for granted. I remember the first time I made the mistake of mentioning my pants in a conversation with people from the UK. When I say pants, I mean trousers. Long pants. I think the same goes for American English. In British English, pants means underwear. I forget what exactly I was saying about my pants to these Poms, but I guess it was sufficiently hilarious when read through the lens of British English that I learned never to do it again. Recently I used “spanner in the works” to what I imagine were very blank American faces. One of the first things I always feel the need to do when speaking to people from other countries is bust the “Shrimp on the Barbie” myth. You would think given the fact that we all speak the same language, we wouldn’t have such trouble understanding one another. But the English language, man…she is one fucked up crazy bitch.
Anyway the point is…I’m just not wild about Tim Tams.