What is the point of a blog if it’s not confessional? Those who have read my profile and other blogs probably know too much about me anyway, so what is there left to lose? My confession is this; I have turned into Elizabeth Taylor and I am not sure when it happened. No, I haven’t started hanging out with Michael Jackson and wearing kaftans; it’s just that I am addicted to gems, jewels, jewellery, and general expensive shiny sparkly stuff.
Actually my addiction is far more tawdry than it would at first appear, as what I am actually addicted to is a jewellery shopping channel called Gems TV. It’s absolutely shameful. For those with digital it’s channels 646 and 660. You know something? I didn’t even have to check those numbers, I just know them. I probably don’t even know my own mobile number but I know those numbers.
Gems TV is at first hilarious, then you get used to it and then, you actually begin to have a fondness for the presenters. You have your favourites and you actually start to enjoy the chat between items and the gems related banter. Many of the presenters are female, which I guess makes sense given it is mostly ladies jewellery on sale. However, there are also a few male presenters. There’s nothing like seeing a delicate sapphire and diamond ring glinting in the studio lights, nestled on the large hairy knuckled finger of a balding man to make you think, “I have to have that!” My Gems TV presenter of choice is Craig. He’s an ex Butlins cheeky chappie and really he should be diverting his career into something more manly, but by god what that man doesn’t know about tanzanite and aquamarines!
The channel had “celebrity” presenters at Christmas by the way. The only one I caught was big gay Richard from Big Brother. Remember him, the muscle bound Village People reject from Canada? He looked uncomfortable the whole time he was on screen. He was probably dying inside….
Oh but the jewellery! To be honest,most of it wouldn’t look out of place on your Mum’s friends’ fat wrists and fingers, but for those that are loyal viewers there’s that diamond in the rough, that spark of gold in the bag of shite, that pearl in the shell. Literally. The deal is this. The jewellery starts off at a ridiculous price, lulling you into a belief that it is actually worth the high price but quickly it PRICE CRASHES and you get a endorphin fueled gambler’s rush.
“Oh my god that aquamarine ring has just gone from £24,000 to £450! Not buying it would be criminal!!” , you shriek as the presenter manipulates the gems delectably on their finger, catching the studio lights and talking about “brilliance” and “lustre”- words that have now worked their way into your every day vocabulary.
Now, you have to be quick on that phone as there are only a LIMITED amount of these items (yeah, sure- they come over in 5 ton shipping containers from the Third World) so,
“You’ve got to be quick to get in the game”, the presenter warns.
Yes, they call each sale of a piece of jewellery a “game”. This is to you fool you into thinking that what you are indulging in is not shopping, but some harmless fun. It also appeals to gambling addicts. The presenter will actually sometimes shout at the end of a sale, “That was a great game, well done!”
It’s like there was actually some skill in picking up the phone and reading out your credit card number to a call centre operative. Acquiring a piece of jewelry is called “Snatching” and the presenter may also exclaim,
“Well snatched!”
or
“That was a terrific snatch!”.
It took me about two weeks to stop laughing every time I heard that.
The whole “game” is presented as if viewers have a tactic.
“Ooh! That was well snatched by Linda in Coventry who came up stealthily on the outside lane, elbowing out former champion, Sandra from Hastings out to the way, and weaving her way thought her opponents and with great skill plucked that moonstone pendant from the fat grasping hands of young pretender Elaine from Darlington to win the game. Well snatched!”
It’s like Quidditch! Only with velour tracksuited, shopping channel addicted, Barclaycard wielding, Hob Nob munching, bored housewives instead of novice wizards, on pistachio coloured leather armchairs in stead of broomsticks. How far am I going to take this? OK, I’ll stop now.
So have I actually snatched? Yes three times. What a rush! Not too bad, considering I could easily be the Mr T of Skid Row sitting in a cardboard box with all my bling on, and nothing else to my name. Hey, but I could stop any time I wanted, OK?
Anyway, got to go, “Bracelet Hour” starts in two minutes!
March 8, 2007. annoying advertisments television, gems, jewelry, lifestyle, shopping, women. .
Disaster has struck the Martin Family household. The mother board on the family PC has gone into meltdown and we faced the prospect of losing all the photos from Eve’s birth onwards, all our documents and all our downloaded music. It’s too horrible to even contemplate, so for a couple of days whilst the computer was in intensive care at Northern Peripherals we were in a bit of denial of what this actually could mean. Every holiday, every Christmas, my kids growing up, every one of John’s bizarre hair/facial hair phases- four years of your life sucked into the vortex that is the PC blackhole.
Incidentally, this is also the blackhole populated with that unsaved dissertation you spent hours writing for your finals, the latest copy of the edit you did with that really fiddly bit that took bloody ages that you forgot to save, the e-tickets you downloaded for your flights that have gone awol and you can’t get onboard without. Oh, and it’s also where all the biros and hairbands end up. Fact. “It’ll be fine, these things can always be recovered,” we fooled ourselves into believing. To an extent, we were right. These things could be recovered, but at a cost of over £200 for man hours involving a bloke doing god knows what to our flux capacitor , transducer, transponder, and megadrive. I don’t pretend to understand. I’m more of the run around and panic type of person when technology goes wrong.
When people talk to me of these things, I look like I’m listening but really I’m playing a favourite movie in my head or I go into screensaver mode with tropical fish going round and round in my head. The technicians in college have already cottoned onto this and have been known to roll their eyes in anticipation as I approach. But as I’m annoyingly fond of saying “I’m a producer, I don’t need to know what buttons do, I have boys to do that for me”, or simply “Can you make porn come on my telly?”
But don’t get me wrong, I like using technology. It’s just when it goes wrong that I get panicky and confused like a spooked horse. Maybe some whispering will do the trick, “Shhh! Shhh! It’s ok girl,calm down and switch it on and off again. Have you tried plugging it in? Easy now girl, it’s aaaaalllll going to be ok, let’s just see if we can reboot. Easy! Easy! Whoa there!”. That kind of thing.Anyway, the panic is sort of over; our photos have been recovered and we can relax. Of all the things to lose these would be the worst so they are now safely backed up. But even though I am eternally grateful to the Megadeath T-shirt wearing Poindexter that saved our family memories, I am a bit pissed off that I’ve lost all my music. Luckily, I have about 200 tracks saved on other media, like phones, laptops, CDs etc and I am currently ripping them back into my PC (see, I said “Rip”, I do know some stuff!). Only problem is that Bastard Itunes and Goddamn Windows Media Player don’t recognise any of the track artists and titles so I’m having to play a tedious version of Tom O’Connor’s “Name that Tune” to get them all catalogued again. It’s like a music version of Trivial Pursuit that will never end. If only I lived with Paul Gambaccini. Actually, on second thoughts, no, I think I’ll just do it myself.
So, if you’re round my house, don’t be surprised if I involve you in the music quiz too. Like there’s this one track that goes, “Da Da nanana nana nan naaa!” and for the life of me I can’t remember what it is. C’mon you know the one, it goes “Da Da nanana nana nan naaa!” for god-sake. It’s by that guy that used to be in that other band with whatsis name…..grrr……
March 8, 2007. computers, digital, life, lifestyle, parents. .
