Is Rehab losing its credibility?

“Li-Lo in Rehab crisis”, “Robbie books in as a birthday present to himself”, “Britney checks in for 3rd time this year.
These are but a few of the screaming headlines increasingly seen in publications over the past couple of years and gaining momentum at an alarming rate.

Not at all uncommon, the rehab celebrity alliance is as familiar to us as Posh’s pout.
Notably however over the past couple of years the stigma attached to the rich and famous entering these clinics has shifted dramatically.
The matter in previous years was virtually taboo in celebville. Shattering their images as perfect glossy celluloid stars, with perfect glossy lives was a considered a fate worse than death (although death nowadays is quickly being replaced by admitting any links to the church of scientology, ouch sorry Tom Cruise) .
The need to go it seemed was a (very) last resort and kept as hush, hush by their PR as possible with statements from ‘their people’ released to press such as “So and so is taking a few months of to relax and spend time with partner/friends and family” or “Mr Megastar had to pull out of filming due to unavoidable commitments”
Comments which are now reserved for female celebrities who come back from Switzerland looking remarkably ‘well rested’ and a touch different but why I can’t quite put my scalpel, oops I mean finger on.

But back to the topic at hand these stars are used having everything in excess, from money to lifestyle to partying it’s no wonder some abuse alcohol and drugs in the same excessive way. Either for enjoyment or to cope with the pressures of fame. And with money being no object it’s little wonder they find themselves with a little problem in the form of a full blown addiction on their hands sooner if not later. They’re in trouble and this is where rehab can be a saviour.

But what disturbs me is the seriousness surrounding the need to go to rehab is non-existent anymore and celebrities seem to attend with the same blasé attitude as if going to an after party.

One of Lindsay Lohans last stints saw her sneaking mates in, Britney kept checking in and out of hers as if it were the four seasons and former Busted star Matt Willis is reported to have said “he couldn’t wait to leave to go to the pub”
What was he admitted for? Yep you guessed it an alcohol problem.

It appears rehab is considered a rite of passage and you aren’t considered cool enough for their club if you haven’t done a stint at ‘The Priory dah-ling or some uber expensive retreat in the Arizona desert.

On the streets prison is the institution worthy of respect to the young, loaded and silly its rehab
The message being sent to young people seems to worryingly be booze as much as you like even take drugs till you’re off your face, but don’t fret because all you need to do is get your GP to make some sort of referral, for a nice little holiday in a fab house in the country, recharge your batteries for a bit then its back to the excesses. Think that’s a bit far out and no one thinks like that? Think again.

High Heels

                                                                   ^  The Reality, ouch!^ 

There are two words that strike the fear of Zeus in my heart. High Heels. Just the thought of them makes me break into a sweat that would put a junkie going cold turkey to shame. These towers of terror as I like to affectionately call them are just an accident waiting to happen, I thoroughly believe the inventor of heels must

a) Have been in a shit marriage and despised his wife or

b) Was screwed over big time by his ex or a string of women.

And so set about making a pair of shoes that would cause women to weep in pain with every step but be so beautiful they’d throw themselves at their alter, forever being bound into a love hate relationship with the pretty devils.

Its no accident most male shoe designers are gay!

Before you think I am some bra-burning feminist (taking into consideration my last post) I can assure you I am not.

You see, I can understand why women love shoes, I personally don’t, but then I have the same loving relationship with the handbag. Aah, my eyes are glazing over at the thought. It’s difficult to put into words the feeling I get when I see a fabulous bag, so I totally get that adoring aspect. But it’s the ridiculous 4-6 inch heels that baffle me; surely you cannot go out clubbing and have a good time with them, nor can I imagine it easy to concentrate on situations when the pain kicks in. Can you imagine trying to give a 1-2 hr presentation at work, weeks of preparation and notes could get buggered up because on the day you decided on your Laboutin skyscrapers and instead of facts, figures and statistics all you could think of is ‘My God I would happily shave my fanny with a blunt razor if someone would slide me a pair of ballet pumps.’

 Celebs attending a premiere or launch are just about the only ones who I think can get away with it, not because they look better than us, not in the slightest, but because they’re lucky enough to have what I call ‘car to bar luxury’ which means they get chauffeured to the venue, have special VIP seating, so no standing from dusk till dawn, and then get chauffeured back. So in reality there is actually very limited standing time. So they don’t suffer the indignity of having to find your night bus, have cut ,with bunions the size of golf balls.

 Why we ladies suffer for beauty is beyond me but I must dash now as I have a Brazilian booked for 2J

Sex and the City; What a load of Rollocks

I’m about to reveal something to all you readers out there that have left my girl- friends reeling in shock and many more just shaking their head trying to understand how it could possibly be.

The thing is I, Ms Beaumont, of London England absolutely hate…..Sex and the City.

There I’ve said it, it’s out there in cyberspace and it feels good.

 Often hailed by females as a refreshing and fantastic portrayal of the modern women in her attitude to sex and relationships, I find it a complete bore. When you think about it it’s not that refreshing or daring. They discuss blowjobs, so what, fair enough it may have never been done in such a way on TV before but is it worthy of  ‘Sex and the City nights’- yes these do happen. Where a group of gal pals get together dressed up to the nines just to settle in to watch the weekly half hour episode over glasses of pinot! Here’s a novel idea why not just get together and TALK TO EACH OTHER instead over a cocktail or two and not watch a bunch of women chat about what you have been doing since forever anyway!

 These women are supposedly sexy- don’t even get me started on SJP- successful, stylish, have a great friendship yet they spend all their time harping on about men, dating men and seemingly on an eternal quest to find the perfect men. So to me the message I’m getting is you can be as successful and hot as you want but unless you get a man your life will never be complete. Give me a break

I am not a cynic and do believe *cliché cringe alert* that ‘love conquers all’ and happiness is tres important but I feel this program is just way overrated.

Pedigree Dogs Exposed

pug of today

pug of 1800s

Ihave never been an animal lover having never wanted a dog, cat or a horse like the majority of Britons, I just don't get peoples preoccupation with them. I hate slobber, their fur or the smell of them.

But I was disgusted and somewhat distresssed as I watched Pedigree Dogs Exposed on the BBC last night, a documentary that delved into the world of these supposed perfect breeds .
The lengths that breeders go to to ensure their dogs are thoroughbreds is to say the least despicable.

A certain breed of dog (I cannot remember which) are particularly prone to suffer a certain neurological disease in which their skull does not grow beyond a certain age, however their brain still does, leaving them in a state of constant pain as the brain struggles to grow to its full capacity.
Or how about Boxer dogs, now prone to epilipsy. It was utterly sad to watch the poor thing have such a violent seizure.

What also shocked me was the fact that many dogs- pugs and beagles particulary- bare absolutely no resemblace to what they looked like over 100 years ago due to the forced and in my opinion unatural breeding process.

Pugs, ugly little buggers I have always thought. shouldn't even have the flat faces they posses. Supposedly their defining feature, they actually used to be somewhat cute with full nose/snout and no folded skin anywhere. Their 'gorgeous' new look now is due to the breeding processes that have taken place since the 1800s.

The ease in which dogs are abandoned and killed just because they don't look a certain way is actually quite chilling, did Hitler not do the same thing to the Jews because they supposedly were not 'pure'!
But hey its alright to do it to the dogs because they're just animals, seems the attitude.

shockingly these breeders are supposed to be dog lovers, well I find it a funny sort of love.

Mothers+ Entertaining= Nightmare *update*

since I had such a rant over the guests due over for dinner in my last post, I thought it only right to let you all know it actually went very well, although possible disaster was threateningly near when another two guests who had assured us wouldn't be able to make it, suprise, suprise turned up, (grrrr)
Cue momentary food crisis,in which appeared to heading into the "counting potatoes on each plate"phase, however we managed to bypass this dire area for the simple reason myself and my sisters other half just couldn't be bothered to eat after spending far too long having already seen the food in what seems like the aeons it took to prepare.

Mothers + Entertaining= Nightmare

aaaargh! don't parents just rile you up sometimes. I at the moment am ignoring my mother, petty I know but I am just plain fed up and steaming at the ears, so am choosing to vent in my blog.

Here is the situation. Mother has guests coming round tomorrow old, old friends she hasn't seen in years, so is all in a tizz.

I know you can identify with me when I say its all "we have to clean, we have to hoover, what are we going to cook? ooh what if they don't like this? what if they don't like that?,you can't have that out, what will so and so say." My mother is no Hyecinth Bouquet but shes acting as if the bloody Queen is coming round not plain old Fiona* and Charles* et al. Give me a break, myself and my sis don't even want to be here but we're as elbow deep into the preparations as mother.

So whats riled me up.
We had a plan, a plan you hear, conceived last night over dinner we agreed to stick to it.

Now i'm very fussy when it comes to organisation particularly if you have one day only to get through a million tasks.

The plan was to wake early and go to the supermarket with mum to get the food shopping in before the saturday morning crowds hit, therefore allowing for the rest of the day to be left tidying and god knows what else we would have to do. I woke early on saturday morning much earlier than planned, so decided to scoot off to my local B&Q to buy a few plants to pretty up the front garden (another task mummy wanted doing.)

I knew I would be back in 1hr so waved mummy off as she was having her morning tea, "don't forget the plan" I sang out before closing the door.

I got to B&Q and back in record time, totally pleased with myself as I entered our front gate, only 50 minutes had lapsed since I left the house, I was happy we were still on target.

After dumping the plants I head to the kitchen to find mum still in her nightie, "mum! what are you doing still like that? have you bathed yet" I said incredulously, " No not yet, but I managed to clean the kitchen floor, it was dirtier than i thought", looking down it looked clean, just the way it did before I left, "also the doors" she carried on " but what about the plan!" I said a little hysterically, "it's now 10 0'clock, we were supposed to leave early, this is not early, by the time you get ready it'll be 11.00am" "it's ok", she said popping the kettle on for more tea and putting toast into the toaster.

That did it, those 2 slices of toast were the straws that broke the camels back totall miffed I plonked myself in front of the PC. Sensing my mood I must admit she did speed through brekkie and now as I type has had a quick bath and is getting dressed. I love her to bits but dear God

mothers+entertaining=Nightmare.

Dumpling anyone?

"Im going China town, going China town" *sung in the thune of The Jams Going Underground*.

Not having a cooker for over four weeks- a rant for another time-. The Beaumont household has been surviving on a diet of frozen meals and takeaways.

Aah, the latter was so novel at first. Merrily scanning menus ordering up a feast knowing you don't have to get your hands dirty.

I am a creature of habit, not great but it does have its pro's. So when it comes to takeaways (I'm cool with restaurants) I usually order the same thing, In my opinion there is nothing worse than getting a dish that in theory sounded so lush but in reality is barely paletable. Leaving you to spend the rest of the evening staring longingly at your fellow friends food, totally pissed off because:

a)you cannot be bothered to wait for another 50 mins for another delivery

b)you now have to cook something, which totally defeats the purpose of a takeaway evening.

Four weeks down the line lets just say the suggestion of a takeaway was often followed by the words: bo***cks, no way and f***ing hell, in no particular order.

You should have seen the excitement, when our brand new cooker came, I swear even the mythed second coming of Christ wouldn't have gotten such a reception. oohing and ahhing, everyone was talking at once about what they were first going to cook, nevermind the fact that a couple of us actually hated cooking - no doubt forgetten in a severe case of takeaway induced amnesia.

However like Harry Potters scar something remained with me; a new found appreciation of Chinese cooking. I suspect it might be because I didn't have sufficient time to fully get sick of it yet.

A huge fan of Japanese cooking, sushi being my favouite food, I never gave much thought to Chinese, to me it seemed laden with coloured preservatives, and full of god knows how many e-numbers. I found having restaurants everywhere lost its novel appeal. But the humble dumpling, my goodness I didn't predict how yummy they'd; completely addictived. I vowed to make it my first dish to cook.

Braving the horrendous British weather I headed to Soho in search of dumpling skins. Prize firmly in carrier bag I rushed home excited to make my first batch. to cut a long story short the first bite was heaven I couldn't believe I had done it, lil' old me made my very own dumpling and it tasted good, so good I chose to devote a whole blog to it. But I'm not selfish people I have chosen to share my recipe with you, so go, now what are you waiting for go make dumplings.

INGREDIENTS

• dumpling skins
• pork mince (200g)
• fresh ginger (crushed)
• crushed garlic (the lazy one is fine too)
• soy sauce
• toated sesame oil
• spring onions
• fine sea salt
• white pepper

HOW TO:

• Mix all the ingrediants together, decide how much of every ingrediant you wish to put in, its completely up to you.
• place a skin in the palm of your hand
• dip a finger into water and run it around the edges, so they can stick together, when filled.
• place some filling in the centre and close the edgesof the pastry together
• place the dumplings into boiling hot water. they are ready when they float to the surface.
• serve with soy sauce

voila!

The polite pensioner reality or myth?

Things were good in the old days... there wasn’t any trouble...people were so friendly.
Have you ever heard your grandma or granddad utter these words? Chances are you probably have. Of course no one believes them. But today I fell victim to what I now call another perpetuated myth, that of the ‘polite pensioner’.

After a particularly long day at uni I wearily but happily walked towards my campus’ local Greggs bakery in much need of its sugary delights, (iced preferably). Popular and often very busy amongst my fellow students, mainly because of its cheap and cheerful ‘four for the price of’ offers, I was grateful to find no queue, just a lady with two children particularly eager to have the “Biscuit man with smartie eyes” as one put it, and a very dapperly dressed old man reminiscent of the 40’s and 50’s when men wearing suits were de rigour. Distinguished with salt and pepper hair he strongly reminded me of Nelson Mandela.

He probably won’t take two long I thought. Having spent most of the day in the library, I had skipped lunch, which had left me ravenous with a craving only a doughnut could satisfy. Lost in thoughts of pastry, my journey home and assignments, my reverie was shattered by the loud unmistakably rude tone of ‘Mr distinguished’, commanding with a thrusting forefinger what he wanted in the window, don’t you know it is rude to point, I thought! He then went on to command various other goods, in the same manner, his behaviour combined with age i must say left me shocked.

Looks passing between the silent salesgirls lead me to believe I wasn’t alone in thinking his behaviour despicable.
Call me old fashioned but I can’t stand rudeness in anyone. After he was served I ‘accidently’ to loudly commented that some people these days don’t know the meaning of please and thank you.

Well that did it. How could I ever have even compared him to the peace touting Nelson Mandela, a torrent of shouted threats and abuse was volleyed in my direction faster than any Williams sisters could ever serve back. I took the higher moral ground and remained calm throughout. I couldn’t believe here I was being insulted by someone at least 50 years my senior because I berated him on his lack of manners. Surely this was the wrong way round.

The younger generation are always getting stick for, not respecting our elders, acting with enough consideration or being mindful of our p ’s and q ’s. And yes while there are young people who are rude there are many more that are not and it’s the same with the elderly. People have to grow old sometime and unless they have a life transplant or at least decide to adopt a more people friendly persona, won’t they just grow into rude young adults? Just because you have access to an orange bus pass it doesn’t automatically turn you into tea dancing loving, bowls playing old biddy. I tell you I have been shoved hard believe it or not many times on public transport by pensioners who then stare at you as if to taunt there’s nothing you can do about it. Now before you all start coming after me with pitchforks and torches, I do not hate old people far from it I just think Maybe it’s time it’s not just the young but all of society who should watch their manners.

Welcome

greetings and welcome to My two cents a blog which will feature my opinions, thoughts and 'two cents on just about anything that touches my world or just plain riles me up.