One For The Money

Being a bloke my affection for the chick-lit of Janet Evanovich is not one of my more obvious qualities. But having stumbled across One For The Money many years ago, I then found myself hooked for a while, reading the first fifteen or so of the Stephanie Plum stories before tiring of the formulaic, if pleasing, releases.

My wife too was hooked to the point that we would have to buy two copies of each new book so that we could read them simultaneously. I even took her up to London's Royal Festival Hall when Evanovich visited the UK to see her talking about the books. At the time we both felt that it was madness that they hadn't found their way to film, and spent quite a while discussing who we'd cast, agreeing only that, at the time, Sandra Bullock would be a dead cert for the title role.

Many years on, the first book finally became a movie, opened to dire reviews and disappeared from the screens almost as fast as it had arrived, certainly too fleetingly for us to have gotten around to seeing it. I had almost forgotten about it until I spotted it on Amazon being sold for the ridiculously bargain bucket price of £3.99. With that in mind, along with the reviews, it then sat unopened and unwatched for weeks until tonight.

And you know what, it was good, not perfect by any means, but a convincing realisation of the the book. The dialogue was funny, the romantic chemistry worked, there was nothing not to like. It's no classic, but it was far more enjoyable than anything else we've watched this year. The worst I can say about it is that Katherine Heigl is too tall and that the character Morelli is physically miscast, though in character and chemistry otherwise just fine.

If you are a fan of the books then you will enjoy this movie. If you haven't read the books, then you are missing out, go buy the book One For The Money immediately, it will make you laugh out loud; and, if you are a woman, I am lead to believe that the characters Morelli and Ranger will have a lasting effect to which I as a bloke remain oblivious.

A thoroughly enjoyable evening, from the opening credits to the gag-reel in the extras it was all done right. I can only assume that the reviewers who slated it hadn't read the books, they are what they are, a light-hearted romantic comedy clothed in the guise of a crime thriller. There is nothing wrong with formulaic provided it is done well.

Such a pity that its lackluster performance means there is unlikely to be a sequel, Stephanie Plum deserves a place in movie history akin to a female and more likeable John McCain.

The demise of Google Reader

If like me you access your blogs of choice via Google Reader, then last week will have left you scratching your head wondering what you will do without it.

I have tried out a number of alternatives over the last few days and can now declare, for those primarily using a smartphone, Feedly as the winner.

Feedly is easy to set up and more intuitive than the others I tried. It provides a different and prettily pictorial experience. It takes a short while to learn your way around it, but at no point have I needed to search for a manual or FAQ.

You can read about feedly, and find some tips on using it, on their blog.

Only an idiot...

Only an idiot would buy a protective case for their very expensive mobile phone, then decide that it just feels sexier without one.

Only an idiot would wholeheartedly believe that insuring a mobile phone against loss or accident is a mug's game.

Only an idiot would put said mobile phone in the pocket of a pair of tracksuit bottoms before sitting in a very low-slung sports car.

Only an idiot would not learn from the multiple times when that phone then fell from the pocket, landing, if they were lucky, on the floor of their car or, when they were unlucky, out of the door and onto the road.

Only an idiot, when their phone had survived all their lunatic incompetence up until Friday, would then time the dropping of their phone with the slamming of their car door.

I am an idiot.

The worst thing is I have nobody else to blame. No it's that I have nobody else to blame and I still have thirteen months left to run on my contract. So, now I face having to buy another phone. Should I just replace like with like? I loved that phone, an HTC One X, more than any other I have ever used, it was perfect. Or do I spend an extra £100 and buy The all new singing and dancing HTC One due out on Friday? It has 'revolutionary' new features which I may grow to hate, over the last year the original has come to feel like a part of me. And the new one is aluminium whereas the original was a white polycarbonate, rugged and durable, car doors aside.

Whichever I choose I know I shall be disappointed. If I go with what I know, I shall curse my luck that other users are wandering the streets replete with 'revolutionary' features. If I go for the new one, it will no longer feel like a beloved friend, its cold metallic case a constant reminder of my loss.

I have passed through the tearful grief stage, watched as its heroic processor switched off for the last time, its supremely bright screen still visible through the shattered glass fading to black. I am now in the anger stage, how could it desert me?

I loved that phone.

Edit:
I couldn't bring myself to spend £450-550 on a replacement. Have ordered a Google Nexus 4 instead for £280. I shall very much miss the HTC Sense interface, but I can live with vanilla Android software until my provider's upgrade offer next year. The screen is the same size, the processor marginally slower and battery life equally poor, but at least I shall be back in the game. It only has 16gb of storage, as opposed to the One X's 32, but I shall make do.

Parental content disabled?

I can't believe I haven't written a post on this topic before, it is such a disappointment to me.

I speak of course of dreams and their content. I don't know if it was alcohol that did it, but at some point back in my youth my brain was reset to its factory default settings. From that day to this I have never got past first base in a dream. Even when I'm thinking hey-hey this is going well, nudity and horizontal pleasures of the flesh must inevitably take place any second now, I then wake up, my ambitions thwarted.

As I have aged I am less and less aware of dreams, so those that I have I treasure, still more those in which I am young, slim and loved up.

Last year there was one, all very bhuddist, white plastered columns surrounding an unrealistically clear blue swimming pool. Beside it, warmed by the idyllic sunshine and a gentle breeze, a simple white-sheeted mattress on the ground. A girl from my past, also dressed in white, was there. I'll be honest with you, it was all looking good. She embraced me and.... the alarm went off.

Last night better still. I was young, I was thin, and I was very much in love with an actress who features in one of my favourite TV shows. She was madly affectionate, this was great, we kissed, it was fantastic..... my wife sat up in bed and said "I need a drink", another dream ruined.

So since the brain does not have any instructions, do any of you know how to turn off this feckin content-filter and let me gain access to the smutty pay per view content. I know its in there, I'm not so old yet as to have forgotten it altogether. Or am I cursed to spend the rest of my life stuck watching the dream equivalent of the Disney channel?