Hilarious TV

If anything remotely so funny would indeed be broadcasted on TV, I think I would actually buy myself a TV, pay for cable and take the time to watch it every once in a while. Check this out:

http://happyfish.ro/vrem_alta_romanie/solutii_de_criza_in_televiziune/

However, at the moment, absolutely nothing is worth trading a quiet house and my reading time for. What would I watch?

Well, let’s look at the possibilities:

1. Allegedly clairvoyant ignoramuses on OTV or DDTV – fascinating, really! But I had the privilege of the clairvoyant taxi driver with her own show on TV predicting my future one-to-one, while driving me around in a taxi, and without charging me an extra ‘live clairvoyant fee’! (http://andreeatan.blogspot.com/2009/05/clairvoyant-taxi-driver.html)

2. Basketball, football and handball matches played by obscure teams I haven’t heard about, just because the commentator’s voice turns me on – yes, but I am not interested in football, basketball, handball and all that, and I can hear his voice if I just pick up the phone and call him instead. 

3. Criminal Minds – well… that would certainly be worth owning a TV and turning it on! But the downside is that AXN only runs Criminal Minds on Saturday nights - when I really should be out dancing the night away instead of watching TV - and only one episode at a time!!! So instead I watch 3-4 episodes at a time on www.surfthechannel.com

4. Seeing myself on TV, bellowing into a microphone, too drunk to realize my voice really isn’t that enchanting as it sounds in my head? It could be a possibility… except the damn embarrassing video is already on the Internet (http://andreeatan.blogspot.com/2009/05/whats-up-doc.html)

Well… really, there’s a pro and a con to anything. Bottom line: I continue to be TVless, but I will be on the lookout for funny little videos like the ones on www.happyfish.ro

2009 Eurovision Song Contest Results and Short History of Romanian Participation

I found myself humming Romania’s entry song this morning around 6.30 am. It is now 12.30 pm and I’m still humming it obsessively. I am actually starting to like it. Too bad that people have to like the song upon hearing it for the first time in the contest, in order to award it any significant number of points…

So here’s Elena Gheorghe’s ‘Balkan Girls’:

However, I recommend you search for the actual live performance video, because, although the English accent will be just as bad and some false notes are unmistakable here and there, the erratic body-movements will be visibly reduced and the stage outfits, although nothing special, will certainly not poke you in the eye like the ugly garments and makeup in the video. What were they thinking?!

All in all, Elena deserved to be awarded more points than she was. This may not have been the best song in the contest, but certainly among the 5-7 most ‘catchy’ ones.

Of course the Eurovision Contest has turned political a long time ago, with neighboring countries awarding each-other the highest number of points; of course the Turks in Germany will always vote for Turkey; the Moldavians in Romania will vote for Moldova; the Romanians in Spain and Italy will vote for Romania, and so on. Regardless of how good or bad the performance is.

But let’s take a look at a couple of Romania’s entry songs over the last few years, and compare them to the winners those same years. Could we honestly claim we were better?

Eurovision 2008 – Romania (Beautiful song… for a romantic movie soundtrack!!! Not for the Eurovision contest!!! Romania just doesn’t seem to understand that you have to adapt to the occasion, and insists on sending the likes of Nico, Monica Anghel and Marcel Pavel to make fools of themselves among all the beautiful, crazy, young and original people who get on that stage. See for yourself below)

Eurovision 2007 – Romanian entry song (I loved this song at the time. It deserved to win the national competition. The lyrics, the idea of the song, the rhythm, the funny dance… they’re all perfect. Even the guys are all cute. Too bad none of them can really sing. See below)

Eurovision 2006 – Tornero (This song already gets on my nerves after the zillions of times I’ve heard it broadcasted since 2006. However, it is one of the most suitable entry songs we’ve ever had for this contest. And apart from the awful dancers and Mihai Treistariu’s extremely questionable sense of fashion, it was probably the year when we were proudest of our participation in the Eurovision. See video below)

Eurovision 2005 – Romania’s entry song was ‘Let Me Try’ - probably the closest we came to winning: 3rd place. Luminita’s voice is perfect for the song, the guys banging on barrels in the background are a wonderful addition to the sound, everything is perfect.

Except… Let’s also take a look at the winning songs over the last few years.

2005 (Greece – ‘My Number One’):

2006 (Finland - ‘Hard Rock Hallelujah’ – surprising entry, surprising winner, but great song! Hard rock rules!!!!!)

However, the winner should have been Russia in 2006, because I think Dima Bilan’s ‘Never Let You Go’ is one of the greatest songs ever written, let alone heard in the Eurovision contest. Convince yourself by watching the video below (which is much better than the song he actually won the contest with last year!)

2007 (Serbia – ‘Molitva’) I’m not sure what the real reason for this win was, but the song grows on you after the first few baffling seconds…

2008 (Russia – ‘Believe’) – I’m glad Dima Bilan won in the end, but it’s too bad he didn’t win with the song that was really worth it, in 2006 – ‘Never Let You Go’. I’m pretty sure it’s more of Evgeni Plushenko’s involvement in Bilan’s performances that got him to number one in 2008, but whatever the reason… here’s the actual song:

2009 – Norway is the winner this year, with an entertaining and extremely cute song, but a smug Alexander Rybak who almost ruins the whole song with his alternation of talking/shouting/talking/shouting instead of singing (when he does try, poor thing, it all comes out wrong!). The two wannabe fairies in pink dresses aren’t helping at all either! I’ll give him this: he can play that violin while hopping around in bouts of enthusiasm!

According to the official Eurovision Song Contest History website (www.esc-history.com), Romania first entered the contest in 1994. In the last 15 years, it has had 11 songs in the finals, and ranked between 22 and 3 in the stats, as follows:

1994 – Dincolo de Nori – Dan Bittman (21st place out of 25)

1998 – Eu Cred – Malina Olinescu (22nd place out of 25)

2000 – The Moon – Taxi (17th place out of 24)

2002 – Tell Me Why – Monica Anghel & Marcel Pavel (9th/24)

2003 – Don’t Break My Heart – Nicola (10th/26)

2004 – I Admit – Sanda Ladosi (18th/24)

2005 – Let Me Try – Luminita Anghel & Sistem (3rd/24)

2006 – Tornero – Mihai Traistariu (4th/24)

2007 – Liubi, Liubi, I Love You – Todomondo (13th/24)

2008 – Pe-o Margine de Lume – Nico & Vlad Mirita (20th/25)

2009 – The Balkan Girls – Elena Gheorghe (19th/25)

What’s Up Doc?

Background info: 1) I am obsessive compulsive; 2) One of my compulsive obsessions is matching outfits with accessories (earrings, shoes, glasses, watches, bags, hairpins, even lighters and pens for god’s sake!); 3) Although I must be close to the number of glasses Elton John has (but not quite there yet, as mine fit in only one suitcase!), I still feel compelled to renew my colourful collection with yet another shade of this or that colour, which will obviously match this or that outfit even better than any of the other ones.

This having been said, the story goes like this:

Last week I walked into my regular optician’s, to have her take a look at the last pair of glasses I had bought from her (I bought them because I wanted olive-green frames, but since then, everybody had been commenting on my mustard glasses. I could have blamed that on my failing eyesight, but they were rubbing against my right ear rather painfully after a few days, so they had to be bent a bit, whatever their true colour). As soon as the blond shop assistant saw me walking towards the entrance to the shop, she started hopping up and down, pulling the other woman’s sleeve and squeaking: ‘It’s her! It’s her!’ I looked behind and around me, but I was the only one in sight, so I shrugged and asked: ‘I’m me?’

Almost out of breath with excitement, Blondie explained that she had been trying to explain to her boss for weeks which of their clients she had seen on TV, and just couldn’t make her understand it was me. ‘Anyway, you have a lovely voice, Miss’, she concluded. I mumbled some words of thanks to her compliment, but actually thought to myself ‘Oh shit! Not another one!’

At the end of March I went to Opium Studio (a club in the vicinity of the ProTV building - which explains why they were filming there in the first place!). We were quite a big gang, booked 2 tables and made a lot of noise, drank a lot of alcohol and generally had a smashing time, never once caring about what anyone else in there thought about us (or our voices, as it turned out!).

Just after 10 pm, to get the karaoke atmosphere started, the DJ made the huge mistake of randomly giving out two microphones. I grabbed one and didn’t let go of it until after 3 am, when (against my will) my friends dragged me out of the place and the DJ snatched the mic from my clutching talons. I was having a great time (as I later saw myself confessing on TV!!). Of course, the flowing Bacardi and Coke helped relax me and even induced this confidence-boosting illusion that I could actually sing and that everyone in the club was delighted (and certainly honoured) to have the privilege of listening to me bellowing into that microphone for hours on end. Whatever the song, whichever the lyrics, whatever the language, regardless of whether I had ever heard the song before or if some poor clubber had requested it and was trying hard to scream even louder into their microphone, so they could cover me.

I had been mildly aware that a bright light was constantly shining in my face and that someone had been filming the whole evening, but I just supposed the club owners were making a video to post on the club website. Towards morning, this little lady with a microphone of her own (!!!) came up to me and asked if she could interview me for her show on ProTV – What’s Up Doc? It turns out she was doing an episode on how people lose weight while singing, by exercising their face and stomach muscles. So, still clutching the microphone and swinging my Bacardi glass, I explained to her about singing and other important aspects of life. However, she only chose to insert two of my words of wisdom in the broadcasted footage (probably because they had been the only two intelligible phrases I uttered in my respective state of advanced lack of sobriety). See for yourselves: http://www.protv.ro/emisiuni/shows/ce-se-intampla-doctore/video-cantati-cantati-cantati/20682/pagina-1.html

Now, coming back to the Blondie optician, I wonder if it was a new sales technique, to persuade me to buy a bigger pair of sun-glasses, just in case I do become a celebrity and people start recognizing me on the street… It worked! Which reminds me… I have to rush over to collect my new glasses! Ta!

Happy Birthday Darling!

I will not post a photo (not because I want to protect his identity, but because he is so devastatingly gorgeous, sexy and desirable –even at his age! –, that I do fear someone else will snatch him!) but today (actually, yesterday, 13 May, but since I haven’t yet gone to bed, it’s still ‘today’ although it’s technically ‘tomorrow’, got it?!) is (was) my best friend’s birthday.

Due to free radicals, pollution and probably some advanced degree of short-sight – as well as the small impediment of his sexual orientation and preference for men -, I will never have his babies (except ‘by IVF from a test tube’, he said! How generous! Thanks, darling! Thanks for being selfish and keeping all those wonderful genes to yourself and not giving the world the chance to benefit from the product of our combined genes, which would obviously produce nothing but gorgeous prodigies, cute little geniuses who can save humanity, the planet, the Universe – because they will know, a priori, that the answer is 42. And mice.). However, that will not prevent me from loving him eternally (and secretly plotting to get him drunk enough one night and rape him. If that doesn’t work, I have Plan B, where I flatten out my breasts, grow hairs on my legs and pretend to be a 19 year old male virgin).

Anyway, I had been preparing to celebrate his birthday since… his last birthday, really, only to find out today that he had decided to cancel it altogether and pretend it wasn’t happening at all. Like that was going to happen! I quickly ran a search for last minute entertainment inspiration in Bucharest on a Wednesday evening. I luckily found the most appropriate option: a musical. And not just any musical, but an ambitious project of the Bucharest Operetta House: Broadway Bucharest.

Now don’t get me wrong. I said the project was ambitious. Not that its ambition was attained. Yes, for an expat or a tourist in Bucharest, it would be a good alternative to lingering in an Irish pub on a rainy Wednesday evening. And if it weren’t for the lack of dance synchronization, the appalling English accents of the cast, the poor sound quality or the lack of voice of some of the artists (or maybe their microphones had been cut off to spare our ears of the even more terrible effect of their singing… Who knows?), the selection of scenes from famous Broadway shows (Cats, Evita, Phantom of the Opera, Cabaret, West Side Story, Fiddler on the Roof, etc.) would have been extremely entertaining and well chosen. However, if you managed to ignore the orchestra conductor’s erratic and unnecessarily ample arm movements and focus on the actual stage, the costumes were probably the best part of the show. Except the well chosen and exceedingly beautiful costumes, the main merit of the production is the fact that no translation was attempted and the whole show was in English. Well… Sort of… I’m pretty sure the guy who sang ‘Maria’ from West Side Story sang the word ‘fart’ instead of ‘found’.

As in:

‘I've just kissed a girl named Maria,
And suddenly I fart, 
How wonderful a sound
Can be!’

And I actually thought he was the best-looking guy on the stage tonight, too. But somehow, after this song, I had this picture in my mind of him farting while kissing, and therefore abstained from running down the hallways of the Operetta theatre, hungry for an autograph and – God forbid! – a kiss. I therefore retreated with birthday-boy to the restaurant next door where we continued our never-ending conversation about Life, the Universe and Everything (although we both know – and our prodigy children would too – that the answer to all that is actually 42. And Mice.)

My darling, I hope tonight eased your passage into the 45th year of your life. May it be better than your 44th, may you read many more books than in your 44th year (and may you give them all to me afterwards!), may you finally open your eyes and see me for the incredibly sexy human being I really am (regardless of the fact that I don’t have hairy legs or a penis!) and offer me your babies, may you finally accomplish your dream of moving back to Africa (and maybe take me with you to fan you with a huge leaf on the beach while a cute black boy is lovingly rubbing your aching joints and muscles), may you always remain the wonderful person you are and may you love me forever, as I will you.

Happy birthday my darling!

The Riddle of Love in Jeanette Winterson’s ‘Power Book’

I always carry a book with me, especially when I spend at least one hour on the tube every day. I read at least 20-30 pages on this daily journey. However, this morning, I read and reread pages 78 and 79 of the 2001 Vintage paperback edition of The Power Book throughout my entire journey to work. Just because they capture the essence of our perpetual search for the sublime. Just because she is so right…

I will copy below some of it. None of it needs further comment.

‘… It seems that we cannot know enough about this riddle of our lives. […] Nothing could be more familiar than love. Nothing else eludes us so completely. […] My search for you, your search for me, is a search after something that cannot be found. Only the impossible is worth the effort. What we seek is love itself, revealed now and again in human form, but pushing us beyond our humanity into animal instinct and god-like success. The love we seek overrules human nature. It has a wildness in it and a glory that we want more than life itself. Love never counts the cost, to itself or to others, and nothing is as cruel as love. There is no love that does not pierce the hands and feet. Merely human love does not satisfy us, though we settle for it. […] Love is worth death. Love is worth life. My search for you, your search for me, goes beyond life and death into one long call in the wilderness. I do not know if what I hear is an answer or an echo. Perhaps I will hear nothing. It doesn’t matter. The journey must be made.’

Croatian Chicken Releases Holy Ghost Egg into the World

Remember the Romanian Duck which released the antichrist egg into the world? (read a reminder at: http://andreeatan.blogspot.com/2009/02/romanian-duck-releases-antichrist-egg.html)

Guess what! A Croatian chicken produced its benign counterpart! Obviously, Divinity is at war with the Antichrist, therefore they are using duck/chicken eggs to duel on Earth…

So, the short version is that a Croatian chicken started laying green eggs (as opposed to the black ones which bore the Antichrist, of course!) just before Easter. http://senzatzional.ro/fetitza-s-a-ouat-oua-verzi)

Now the owners, instead of being pleased that they didn’t have to dye eggs for Easter anymore, they are mad at the chicken for being colorblind. They would have preferred red eggs, obviously! Duh! 

Unscrewed Body Parts

I was discussing the usual matters of life, the universe and everything with an old friend a few days ago, and the conversation seemed to have come to the usual ‘that’s life, innit?’ type of conclusion, when she suddenly straightened up and said:

‘You know what really disgusts me about myself? The fact that I arouse men. I wish I could unscrew my ass and breasts and just leave them at home when I go out!’

Instead of an answer - I mean, what could anyone possibly answer to something like that?! - I asked her if she would mind if I posted this amazing statement on my blog.

She said she wouldn’t.

The Clairvoyant Taxi Driver

I happened to have an unexpected day off from work last week, and tried hard to tick off some of the priorities on my personal ‘to do’ list. As a result, I spent nearly half the day in taxis, getting from one to the next of my various urgent activities (which included a long overdue visit to my beautician, an appointment with my GP and the final official darts match of the season, in that order!).

Now, because I generally use taxis quite often, and because the last taxi I jumped in after leaving my GP’s practice was the umpteenth I had been in that day, I thought I might be excused if I didn’t pay any attention at all to the taxi driver, nor feel like chatting about the awful traffic in Bucharest. How very foolish of me! This particular taxi driver wouldn’t even start the engine until I looked her in the eye, but kept staring in the rearview mirror at me, like I had landed in her backseat with more of a bang than Milla Jovovich in Bruce Willis’s taxi in The 5th Element. In the end, I abandoned the search for my keys in my bag, and stared back, raising my eyebrows.

‘You don’t recognize me, do you Doll?!’ she croaked at my image in the mirror.

I raised my eyebrows even further, took a better look at the large body spilling from the driver’s seat, took in the full details of her screamingly loud makeup, screamingly red hair, bulging eyes and puffed up eyes and nose, and informed her I was quite certain we had not met before, or I would have not forgotten her that easily. However, I was glad to notice that she appeared to be a woman, because she would certainly understand that before driving me to the pub for the darts, she had to stop at my house so I could change my shoes and bag (which were brown and really didn’t match my black belt!).

‘Of course we haven’t met, Doll! I meant from TV!!’

I wasn’t in the least puzzled by her appearance on TV, nor was I interested to have yet another pointless conversation with a bored taxi driver, so made no attempt to find out what exactly she was famous for. I was wrong again to presume I would get off that easily. Whether I wanted to or not, I listened to how she had her own show at some obscure TV channel, because she was ‘a sort of clairvoyant', Doll!’. I was already rolling my eyes, preparing to fake some polite, mild interest in her ramblings, when she pinned me with another of her looks in the mirror and asked why I wasn’t married yet. That made me narrow my eyes at her image in the mirror a little bit, and asked why she was presuming that I wasn’t, while brushing some imaginary hairs from my yes, trying to make her notice the ring on my finger (which I almost always wear, to use against unwanted courting knights).

‘You’re not fooling anyone with that ring, Doll! You’re not married.’ (I was half-interested at this point) ‘You are kicking yourself because you let the first two potential husbands go, because you’re not going to find a third to love and worship you like either of those two.’ (I was close to mortified at this point) ‘Listen to me, Doll! This guy you’re going to see tonight… Just don’t play with him. He really cares about you. He may have a complicated situation with his ex-wife and a young child from that marriage, but you don’t often come across guys like him these days. He’s got character, Doll!’ (I think I had passed mortification stage and was now turning blue from holding my breath) ‘If you play your cards right, you’ll marry him next year and have a little boy right away. Your second kid will be a girl, soon after the boy.’

I think that was where she lost me. My brain recovered from the shock and pumped some skepticism into the whole situation. Too much science-fiction. Besides, I have never sought fortune-telling experiences (clairvoyants, tarot, star sign charts, etc.) for 2 main reasons: I very much doubt the divine source of these pieces of information about the future even if they were accurate (as in I don’t believe ‘white magic’ is actually white.. if you get the drift) and also, what surprises would life have to offer if I knew my future in advance? 

There is also the very delicate issue of my refusal to be manipulated by the seeds planted in my head by some random claim from anyone, let alone a clairvoyant taxi driver! I really am afraid that although future is yet a book to be written, my subconscious will be influenced and I will tend to head in the direction pointed by one of these ‘well-intended’ people. After all, the road to hell surely is paved with good intentions.

So, mum, if you do eventually learn how to use a computer and actually come across my blog, don’t get excited and don’t dry-clean (yet again!!!) the suit you’re saving to wear at my wedding (which, by the way, mum dear, has gone out of fashion a few years ago!), because no taxi driver will tell me when I am getting married and having kids, be it a clairvoyant taxi driver, with her own show on TV!!