Nothing sucks

like my clapped out barely a year old vacuum cleaner. It's not like I'm that hard on it or anything, only having one carpeted room in my house. And I'm not that much of a hausefrau, though I do kind of like doing housework (or rather, I like to not feel shame about the state of my house). I like a slightly cluttered, book-filled cottage-y house that smells of something good cooking, that's clean and tidy enough to relax in. I don't really get why people buy big fancy houses and they're really messy, or have no comfy chairs - what's the point?. Anyway, my stupid vacuum cleaner bit the dust (ha,ha).

I think it's weird that Hugh Laurie is considered a sex symbol, now that he's won a Golden Globe. In the U.K, he is (was?) considered a comedian who played buffoons, though I think the character of House is kind of sexy, in a Byronic doomed sort of way.

George Galloway is being lambasted for pretending to be a cat on Big Brother. I think what's worse is he is so blatantly absent from his constituency, a job for which he gets a salary. He's probably best known here for being 'involved' in the U.N. Oil for Food program. Though it's hardly worse than our lot, who don't have to pretend to be fat cats who got the cream.

I hope this fake skin trend doesn't take off. The apron is particularly Silence-of-the-Lambs. And I'm sorry, but there is no way I would hang one of these bags off my belt. I do not want a dangly inside out testicley thing bouncing around my butt, contrary to popular opinion.

I love these stories about people who made it to 100. They sound like such a sweet bunch of old people. And now there's a theory that your grandparents lifestyle can affect your health. Which might be good news for me as both my grandmothers were tough old birds; one in a genteel, ladylike, covertly slugging down brandy manner, and the other in an almost pathalogically self-reliant Luddite way.