One of the things about my life that delights me, even more than the fact that my house is a mere few hundred metres from a source of Tiptop Trumpets, is that by some trickery or magic I sometimes get paid to goof off on the internet. This is pretty much how I spent most of Monday when, along with blog stablemate Chris Philpott, I spent five hours live-blogging the Golden Globes red carpet and awards ceremony.
It is situations just like this one for which the phrase "living the dream" was invented. Sit on the couch all day watching telly, looking at dresses, snacking on Doritos and posting comments on the internet? Will there be George Clooney? And I don't even have to sign a pact in my own vein-juice? Well that sounds like a hell of a deal to me... no wonder I looked so pleased with myself.
And watching the Golden Globes got me to thinking about the world of movies and television and how very different that world is from the one that we all actually live in. Take for instance, one of my pet peeves, the magic L-shaped sheet.
This would be the one that reveals the male muscled torso (complete with inoffensive male nipples) to the world whilst simultaneously keeping the female mammaries under wraps. If we took our information about how men and women share bed linen real estate from films and television, what an entirely unrealistic view of things we would have.
We'd also get the idea that post-coital cigarettes are mandatory because smoking is sexy. Certainly that's what I thought when I saw the middle-aged woman in leggings and scuffs pushing a Pak'nSave trolley down the street earlier. "Sex on stumpy legs," I thought to meself. "Probably just bedded George Clooney behind a clothing bin," I extrapolated wildly.
But really, who wants cigarette ash getting on their 350-thread-count Egyptian cotton manchester? Yuck.
No, in real life, bed linen, and the sharing of such, works rather differently.
For reasons I'm sure someone who has studied human biology can explain, human males seem to have an internal temperature gauge set to "tropical" while the ladyfolk are a bit more "oh god, how can you not be freezing, you freak?". Though I'm just going on my own, admittedly limited (I promise, Mum), experience.
And I have to say that as far as fun post-coital activities go, I have always favoured "lying awake to the sound of nasal see-sawing" over a ciggie. But then, I can't claim that I have never snored myself, so let's just draw a veil over that and say that snoring "happens sometimes" and certainly more frequently than boudoir cigarette sessions.
So I wonder how closely my own experience with sheet sharing compares to your own? And how far does the reality depart from how it's portrayed on screen? Do you have any other bugbears* about how mundane things are portrayed on screen? If we had too much realism would we just be watching a documentary?
* The other one that really bugs me is the way no one ever says hello or goodbye on the phone. So RUDE!