<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443929961722705612</id><updated>2011-04-21T17:17:50.742-07:00</updated><category term='TV'/><category term='Brits'/><category term='dilemmas'/><category term='food'/><category term='celebrity'/><category term='Posh Spice'/><title type='text'>fourteen minutes of fame</title><subtitle type='html'>For those who can't, won't or shouldn't have their Warholian quarter-hour.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6443929961722705612/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Girl Monday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443929961722705612.post-3573353842653340608</id><published>2007-11-28T21:34:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T22:00:50.919-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>...do sushi takeaway places insist on only giving you a single soy sauce sachet and one eensy wasabi packet even if you've ordered a shitload of sushi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...do people buy bags of pre torn-up lettuce?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...do TV shows these days comprise 10 minutes of actual show, 20 minutes of ads and 30 minutes of boring filler/thinking time/"flashbacks"/shit we don't want to see?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...do some people say "bought" when they mean "brought"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...is Jennifer Connolly considered pretty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...are people who order decaf soy lattes think they're better than the poor shmuck who orders a long black?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...aren't chip packets full to the top anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...are school secretaries among the scariest people I've ever had to deal with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...do childless people need more than half an hour to get ready in the morning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...are the hideous '80s fluoro colours being called "nu-rave" and touted as the Next Big Thing in fashion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...hasn't Child Services picked up Bindi Irwin yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know, tell me. I'm confused.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6443929961722705612-3573353842653340608?l=fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/feeds/3573353842653340608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6443929961722705612&amp;postID=3573353842653340608' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6443929961722705612/posts/default/3573353842653340608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6443929961722705612/posts/default/3573353842653340608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/2007/11/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>Girl Monday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443929961722705612.post-5495924671333424437</id><published>2007-11-22T17:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T17:39:46.556-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Posh Spice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Brits'/><title type='text'>Zig a zag aaahhhh</title><content type='html'>OK. Confession time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may not have too much respect for people who can't spell, arrogant arseholes or talentless wenches but I'll always make an exception for one woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx4RNoKkGiw/R0YrfHCii4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/jGvkmiunDoo/s1600-h/abc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135840238528269186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx4RNoKkGiw/R0YrfHCii4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/jGvkmiunDoo/s320/abc.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Posh Spice. &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;No, no, stay there. I &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; have a rational explanation...I think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Victoria Beckham -- or "Posh Spice" to the readers of countless tragic women's mags -- is truly awesome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It intrigues me how a woman like her -- ie. one with no discernable talent, a husband who has been cowering in the closet for decades and a body that resembles a wire coathanger with two whoopie cushions pinned to the front -- can be so damn successful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's face it - she mimed and pouted her way through her Spice Girl days, she snagged a hot bloke and by most reports, an even hotter pre-nup and now spends her days doing...well, nothing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Which is a helluva lot more impressive that all those cookie-cutter Hollywood stars like Jessica Alba, Reece Witherspoon and Jennifer Aniston who, y'know, work out all the time and switch loser boyfriends and publicise every coin they give to charity. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Posh doesn't work out -- she just doesn't eat. And give money to charity? Hell no, every last cent is donated to the Make Me Look Faaaaaaabulous Fund.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While all the other celebs are trying hard &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; to look like the talentless, self-absorbed brats they are, dear Posh has embraced it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And look at her now -- she's even conquered America (which is more than can be said for my &lt;em&gt;other&lt;/em&gt; favourite Brit Robbie Williams...sorry, Rob).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Posh, you may not ever receive a Nobel Peace Prize, an Ivor Novello Award or even a BMI that verges on a human weight but you've done a remarkable service to all the witless cows out there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Bravo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6443929961722705612-5495924671333424437?l=fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/feeds/5495924671333424437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6443929961722705612&amp;postID=5495924671333424437' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6443929961722705612/posts/default/5495924671333424437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6443929961722705612/posts/default/5495924671333424437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/2007/11/zig-zag-aaahhhh.html' title='Zig a zag aaahhhh'/><author><name>Girl Monday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bx4RNoKkGiw/R0YrfHCii4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/jGvkmiunDoo/s72-c/abc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443929961722705612.post-2599898560787201252</id><published>2007-09-17T23:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T23:36:28.920-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><title type='text'>Are you allowed to throw a tantrum if you're not?</title><content type='html'>Are you smaaaaaarter than a fifth graaaader?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does &lt;em&gt;anyone&lt;/em&gt; have high hopes for this show?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit, the promos initially grabbed me. What does HTML stand for? (Hackneyed Television Made for Losers? I can't remember.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, I just feel sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad, because I know that in 10 years' time, these Fifth Graders will end up on a hideous &lt;em&gt;Where Are They Now&lt;/em&gt; show where they'll bitch about Rove exploiting all their glorious 10-year-old potential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And somehow, somewhere, I'll feel compelled to watch it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And another thing -- the term 'Fifth Grader' is so American. Can't we at least half-sing, half-whine "Are you smaaaaarter than a kid who's in Year Fiiiiiiive?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Does it make me smarter than a kid in Year Five if I'm over the fact the cool girl never let anyone &lt;em&gt;else&lt;/em&gt; role-play the Pink Power Ranger on the school oval at lunchtime? Hmm...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6443929961722705612-2599898560787201252?l=fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/feeds/2599898560787201252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6443929961722705612&amp;postID=2599898560787201252' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6443929961722705612/posts/default/2599898560787201252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6443929961722705612/posts/default/2599898560787201252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/2007/09/are-you-allowed-to-throw-tantrum-if.html' title='Are you allowed to throw a tantrum if you&apos;re not?'/><author><name>Girl Monday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6443929961722705612.post-163581058777842339</id><published>2007-09-12T00:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T00:45:39.506-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dilemmas'/><title type='text'>Would you like Inner Turmoil with that?</title><content type='html'>So maybe it’s a snob thing, but I don’t expect to be thrown a mental challenge when I go through a KFC drive-thru.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the pub? Happens all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a supermarket checkout? *shrug* Possibly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But a KFC drive-thru??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, I should’ve known it would be a crap idea to go there in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what can a girl do? The hunger pains were there and the urge to wait ten minutes for a nice café lady to prepare me a wholesome meal wasn’t -- so there I was, inching up the KFC drive-thru during my lunch break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Two Piece Feed, thanks,” I chirp to the Window Girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WG: “That’s $6.95.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scraping through my bag, I find a five dollar note and an altogether appropriate accompaniment – a two dollar coin. Seven dollars. Great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WG: “Do you want your 5c change with that?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do I want my &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;change&lt;/span&gt; with that?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eeek!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly sustain an icecream headache despite the fact I’m not even within sniffing distance of an Original Magnum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first impulse is to respond, “Yes, of &lt;em&gt;course&lt;/em&gt; I do Why are you asking?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, I wonder…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take 2: “Wait a minute. It’s five cents. Will she think I’m stingy if I say I want it?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take 3: “But it’s &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; five cents, dammit!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take 4: “But am I really going to want that coin jangling at the bottom of my bag along with the $67 worth of other coins I have there?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take 5: “&lt;em&gt;Change is not sweet chilli sauce&lt;/em&gt; – it is NOT optional!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(In fact, if you ask me, sweet chilli sauce is NEVER optional. It’s just nasty. But I digress.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Window Girl looked on - complete with bored, slack-jawed expression - as though she’d asked the most ordinary question in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My thought process just couldn’t handle a Take 6 - so I took it. The change, that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And put it into the next Guide Dog charity box I spotted, all the way reminding myself that a nice cafe lady would &lt;em&gt;never&lt;/em&gt; have been so evil.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6443929961722705612-163581058777842339?l=fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/feeds/163581058777842339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6443929961722705612&amp;postID=163581058777842339' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6443929961722705612/posts/default/163581058777842339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6443929961722705612/posts/default/163581058777842339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fourteenminutesoffame.blogspot.com/2007/09/would-you-like-inner-turmoil-with-that.html' title='Would you like Inner Turmoil with that?'/><author><name>Girl Monday</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
