Category Archives: Amusing

Things that tickle me in some way

Now that’s just FOWL

I had a really nice time down at the in-laws, mind you, we always do. I went strawberry picking on Giulias allotment, managed to nearly kill myself attempting to water the beans and things (I’m so weak and pitiful *sigh* I’m also not really made for outdoor work – the first sign of any insectoid scurrying had me backing off sharpish with many a yelp.. I’ve said I’d be best going back when they do the digging, I’ll just shift all the rocks and thing *grin*)

In fact the whole Watford experience was marred only by the attack.
Yup, yours truly was attacked, I also now have a scar as a result of the attack – just a small one, but it’s there.

I woke up before Stef for a change and bimbled downstairs, saw the note from Giulia asking him to let the chickens out so I thought I’d do it. Wandered down the garden in my nightie, opened up the big door and watched the cockeral chivvy his ladies outside, a few minutes later I realised I’d opened the wrong door and so I went back down the garden to remedy this – that’s when he struck.

I could do nothing to fend him off, I’m there in my nightie he’s there with his beak and his claws..
Seriously – I ran back up the garden path like a bat out of hell, the feckin’ cockeral chasing me the whole way. Little bastard drew blood as well.
Never again, he can sit in the roost and COOK before I’ll think about letting him out again.
He was laughing at me all day – I just know it.

The apple of my eye.. Not.

What happens when technology finally understands a woman? movie link, needs quicktime to run

personally if that ever happened I’d forsee a lot of men being dumped lol
But seriously.. The iBra?

When I was at the hospital I was bored (as you get when you’re 45 minutes early for an appointment) so I started flicking through the magazine on the seat beside me – which is when that particular ad caught my eye.
Seriously, for about 30 seconds I though it was a new apple product – maybe they were branching out into the realms of womens underwear (hey, plenty of geeks there wishing they could I’ll bet *grin*)

But the whimsy was not sustainable for long because nowhere in this bra is there an MP3 storage facility *sigh* if only..

Seans trip to Ecuador

CIMG4192, originally uploaded by p_headless_g.

See now, it’s things like this that make me afraid of travel.
We’ve got it so lucky in England, we must have the least frightening insect life on the planet – lets face it, some of the spiders are big and scary, but nothing compared to this beastie.
Take a look at the rest of what he has on show – I can’t wait to read about it when he finally gets around to writing the trip up.

Here’s an email I recieved from him at the start of his trip this time (for those of you who’ve been around awhile, Sean is the filthy housemate mentioned in many of my posts)

A quick note before I go onto the trip out to Bilsa – My usual day in Quito goes something like this:
Get up in the morning, shower and head out to find some breakfast. More often than not this ends up being breakfast at a place called the Magic Bean, which has great coffee and overpriced pancakes.
After that I tend to go track down an internet cafe as this is usually around eleven or so in the morning, early evening in the UK so there’s usually people on. I check e-mails, check news, check pretty much everything I can to waste some time. I’ll talk to people over MSN for a while and drink more coffee.
Once it gets to about midday, sometime past that I’ll go hunt down some lunch (which changes on a daily basis as there’s an unlimited variety of food to eat around here. The only problem is the gringo prices. There are plenty of places that I go to from time to time with the intent of being frugal that serve meals of cheese/chicken soup followed by a plate of plantaines, rice and beef/chicken/vegetables. It’s more than enough to keep a person fed and only runs at about a dollar for the whole thing, including a glass of fresh juice) and then walk around the city.When I first got here I walked for miles every day, as far as I could in one direction then as far as I could in another direction, then turn around and come home. Frequently it was beginning to get dark as I got back, so I’d either get dinner or check e-mail again (but never the both together) and head over to the Reina Victoria.
The Reina Victoria is a small pub near the outskirts of Gringoland run by an Australian (who I’ve never seen) and Dorothy, from Chicago (who is there every night chatting quite happily to the clientele). Sean, the usual barman, is from Dover and I get to chat to him quite a bit. He’s what could be referred to as a thouraghly decent bloke, though he is slowly beginning to show weariness at having to live in this city.
Chad and Luis are the two ‘waiters’ I see most often there, although there are five who rotate shifts. Chad’s probably the most laid back person I’ve ever met. He’s normally a ski-instructor in Colorado but his girlfriend is teaching in a school here so he’s here for as long as it takes for them to move on. Luis I know little about other than he’s an Ecuadorian working in the Reina to pay his way through school. He’s usuallly a decent guy although he has less to say for himself, probably the result of being in a bar where English is the preferred language. Anyway, this is the place I come to drink. There are a couple of pictures up in my Flickr page you can see and yes, it looks like the most stereotypical English pub in the world. I go there for two reasons – First, they have the best microbrewed stout in the world which is made by some guy down the street. It’s completely lacking foam but delicious stuff nontheless. The only problem is in the 7% alcohol content, which knocks you out slowly and painfully if you’re not careful.
The other reason is the interesting people I get to meet there. I’ve met old men from Yorkshire with a penchant for getting several hookers at once, taking them for a drink in the pub then heading home with them.
Alledgedly he’s here to write a book about the history of genetic reserarch but I’ve never seem any evidence of this barring a few drunken ramblings about how women from Aberdeen have been genetically proven to be the ugliest women in the whole of the British isles.

The other night I met a guy writing a book about the 90’s being the beginning of cultural dissillusionment in England. He had his house in Birmingham blown down by the tornado last year and I became the youngest person he’s going to interview for the book. I’ve met journalists from New York, mobile phone software engineers from Sweden, archaeologists from Minnesota, teachers from all over working as English teachers here and an uncountable number of backpackers from the UK feeling homesick. Every night I go there I get involved in some several hour long conversation about something or other, which normally ends when Sean closes up the bar at midnight, usually giving us a free one for the road before he turns off the taps.

It was only after I came here back in January that I noticed the newsweek article outside the bar that lists the 22 best places to meet people in the world – of which the Reina Victoria is one. Figures.

Anyway, back to that point I was going to make. The night before I headed out to Bilsa was pretty rough. I was only going to have a beer or two in the Reina then go back to the hostel and get an early night (the bus is at eight in the morning and if I miss it there’s bugger all chance of me getting to Bilsa for another three days). Of course then, the Reina being what it is, I get caught up in a conversation about the merits of sports in Ecuador with the old man I mentioned earlier, Sean, Chad and Luis. It’s a friday night and Sean makes a passing remark to Chad early in the evening that he wouldn’t mind going out and getting “…totally rip-roaring drunk…”. At closing time I take out my wallet and pay the bill. Sean invites me along and I’m half pissed so stupidly I agree. The old guy drives us to a bar a few streets down that’ll serve us until three(sorry, I can’t for the life of me remember his name at the moment. It’ll come back to me later on) despite the fact that he’s obviously a bit worse the wear himself.
“Are you sure you want to be driving?” I ask.
“I’m still a better driver right now than the majority of these buggers on the roads in this city” he mutters with a broad Yorkshire accent. I’m actually in agreement with him.
We get to the bar and Sean gets the first round in, cold bottles of Pilsener. I’ve only ever seen Pilsener come in these massive 650ml bottles. I get the second round. I forget who got the third.
I woke up the next morning with a pounding bloody headache and – lacking a watch – turn on my ipod to see the time. It’s half seven. Oh, crap. I run like a mad bastard to pack up everything into my large backpack, packing only the really important stuff in my smaller one. I run downstairs (having paid my bill the night before, prior to leaving for the pub) and get a taxi on Amazonas. We get to the bus terminal maybe five minutes before it was planning to leave. I stick my larger bag into the the luggage compartment under the bus and climb aboard.
After the conductor collects the tickets and we collect a few more people on the way out of the city we’re finally along the long, winding streets with suicidal drivers that lead out of Quito. I sleep like a very ill baby. I wake up when we stop to get petrol just outside of Quininde, which is my destination. There’s not a cloud in the sky and the heat this low down and this far inland is so intense that I can only stand five minutes of it before I feel like my head is swelling and I need to go find a place to sit down in the shade. Thankfully, we’re not there for long and soon it’s back on the bus and into the city.

Quininde has nothing special about it whatsoever.
Seriously, nothing. It is a desperately poor place and serves as the closest place for people who live out in the countryside to pick up provisions. Aside from that it is never worth visiting unless you need to get somewhere else afterwards. Worse than Quito and hotter, too.
I ask the driver to drop me off at Cinco Esquinas (five corners – it gets its name from the fact that it’s a small junction with five roads leaving away from it. Bet you couldn’t have seen that coming, huh?) and walk to the Farmacia Barcia – still somewhat fresh in my memory from the first time I was out here. The Farmacia Barcia is a big pharmacy at one side of the road where all the flatback trucks going out to the countryside go from, by the way. Someone sees me and instantly recognises me as a volunteer.

“Bilsa?” he asks, pointing at me. “A la Ye?”.
“Uh… Si.” I say, still suspicious of anyone who wants me to get into their car or onto their truck unless I have some assurance of them telling the truth.

For lack of a better option, I load my bag onto the back of the flatback and wait about an hour and a half in the shade of a nearby store canopy for some kind of sign that the bus is going. People stop by every once in a while and talk to the driver, who wanders around the area not really doing anything in particular. They load things onto the back. Massive sacks of potatoes, rice, chickens… I’ve heard of goats on there but never seen one. An enormous drum of petrol is loaded onto the back as well.
This’ll be a fun trip, I think to myself. These people drive like total maniacs around the dirt roads in the countryside. This way if we crash we’re not all just going to be badly injured – we’ll probably explode as well. Well, if I had to choose a way to go at least this would be dramatic. Eventually the engine starts and people start piling on. I get shoved into a space right next to the petrol drum. Gringo luck. First I count eighteen people packed onto the back with all the bags, food and the drum. Then we set off up the road. I put on my hat to shield from the sun and strangely the hangover slips away and I smile to myself, confident and happy to be on my way.

There’s a certain elation to this part of the trip whenever I’ve taken it. Here you are, in a strange country. You’re on the back of a truck with seventeen other people and a box of chickens, soon to be bouncing along dirt roads in the Ecuadorian countryside. And it’s not just that. The most incredible views I have had of this country have been on this truck. It’s never rained when I’ve made the trip and it’s just two hours of sitting in the sunshine and looking at the landscape that stretches out for uncountable miles in the distance, vast lush greenery split up only by the occaisional wooden farm. Then of course, you look to your left rather than your right and see a massive area of forest cut down and slowly smouldering as the fire eats up the last of it. Of all the possible ways to arrive in a biological reserve, this is the best. You see first the most incredible, beautiful scenery of your life – cicadas buzz in the air, hummingbirds dart along in front of the truck and butterflies congregate at the side of the road. But then turn your head and you see exactly why you’re here – to lend a hand saving all this. In affirming personal enviromental philosophies it’s unbeatable.

But that all comes in a little while. First the driver takes a wrong turn and I start worrying.
Did this guy lie to me? Am I going to end up in the middle of nowhere because this opportunistic bastard decided to lie to me to get me on his truck? Of course, these thoughts are unfounded. We’ve just gone into one of the slums of Quininde to pick up his three year old daughter, who gets into the front seat beside him. THEN we’re off. But not before we swing by the Farmacia again and pick up even more people. As we finally, FINALLY set off I notice that one of the new arrivals is none other than Jose, one of the Bilsa staff. I have trouble putting what he does into words as it’s so varied that it defies any single description. Juliette once described him and Antonio as “Guides-slash-security guards-slash-labourers” but often they were more than this, helping out with literally everything at the station. I shake his hand as he gets on. I’ve been practicing some Spanish for the last couple of days but I’m nowhere near proficient enough to do anything but ask for what I want and even that is done badly. We share a couple of informal greetings, him smiling broadly as usual. He asks if I’m going to Bilsa, and I say I am. “Y tu?” I ask and get a reply too complicated for me to understand. We don’t really talk for the rest of the trip. Bit frustrating.

So, we get on our way. The trip is incredible, and rain spatters lightly on the brim of my hat for maybe ten minutes before it dries out. The road looks slightly muddier but surely not muddy enough to be known as the rainy season. Surely it should be pissing down on a regular basis? I’d find out more about this later.
We pass through a couple of communities on the way to La Ye. In one of them I see Fernando (boyfriend of one of the Canadian volunteers I was here with back in December and a regular fixture helping out with the bird studies at Bilsa) leaning out his door. He gives a smile of recognition and waves at me and Jose as we drive through.
We reach La Ye about four or five in the afternoon. Time is a bit of a hazy affair on this trip because of my lack of a watch. I get off, pay the driver the three dollars for the trip, unload my bag in front of a store at the side of the main square and get out the little piece of paper that Felipe at the Jatun Sacha office had given to me with instructions on how to reach Bilsa.
It was so much easier in the dry season. The roads are so dry that you can get all the way from Quininde to right outside the gate of Bilsa. In the rainy season though you need to first get to La Ye, then stay the night in nearby La Laguna, then the next morning Don Armado (who lives halfway between here and Bilsa, working primarily as a farmer and secondarily as a guide to Bilsa) arrives with your mule and takes you the rest of the journey. Bit more difficult.

Let me describe La Ye for a minute. It’s a small community (too small and spread out to be considered a village or town) maybe four hours walk from Bilsa. Not many people live around here but it’s constantly a bustling place just because it serves and sort of the general hub for trucks to Quininde. Quininde is, of course, the nearest place with a doctor and shops where you can buy the essentials. La Ye looks like it was pulled straight out of the wild west. A dusty town square is surrounded by wooden and simple concrete buildings, most of them just open with a large metal shutter on the front. Toothless old men sit outside wearing panama hats, spitting and cackling in the sun. There’s always some of the usual folk music playing somewhere nearby and stray dogs, cats, goats, cows and mules are all common in the centre.
For anyone from a different country, this is kind of a shocking sight. This is the level of civilisation you’ll be living in for the duration of your time here. Gringo culture shock.

My piece of paper says I’ll be staying with the Zambrano family in La Laguna.
This information is useful but what would be even better is knowing who the Zambrano family are, where La Laguna is and even better – knowing enough Spanish to ask people in La Ye these questions.

Well, actually that’s not really true. I did know enough Spanish to ask them. I just didn’t know enough to understand their replies. Luckily José was there to help me out, pointing me in the right direction and even walking part of the way with me.
La Laguna is just what it sounds like; a massive, placid lagoon at the bottom of a hill maybe twenty minutes walk from La Ye. This was my first exercise since my previous time at Bilsa a month ago so walking for twenty minutes first down a steep hill then back up another steep one was harder than I expected.
Much harder.
So, I get outside the Zambrano family house and walk up to see if anyone’s around. The house is a typical Ecuadorian home – wooden house, no windows up on big wooden stilts. A dog runs out from underneath the house and stop just before me, barking loudly and baring its teeth. It’s been a pretty long day already so I’m beginning to have second thoughts about the whole thing. I’m on the verge of kicking the dog and running away when a woman, probably in her fifties, sticks her head out of a window and asks me what I want. I go through my memorised spiel about being a volunteer for Bilsa and is it possible to have a room for the night? She says something I don’t understand in Spanish and after maybe fifteen minutes of back and forth, with her explaining where I was to stay in the simplest possible terms and me not understanding a word of it she just walks with me to show me where I’m supposed to go.
This was the difficult part of the walk, purely because I was carrying an alarming amount of equipment on my back, the sun was still beating down intensely and the walk up to the ‘guest house’ was all uphill. By the time I finally reached the porch of the house I was literally drenched head to toe in sweat and panting so heavily I was worried a lung was about to give out.
I rested for a while, me and Lillian Zambrano (so I got the right place after all) had another confused back and forth about whether I was allergic to anything, after which she headed downstairs to make some food. I dragged my bag upstairs into one of the rooms and was shocked at how… Well, how pretty it was.

Just drive the damn car!

Death on the roads!


Yup, yours truly is now learning to drive. With 2 lessons a week for (probably) the next 2 months, funds allowing I should have my licence by the time I’m 30!!
At least that’s the plan.

I’m boning up on all the theory questions but sadly I have no one to practice with for the practical *sniff* I know Stef’d do it but it’s a physical impossibility for me in his car – I’m too small, I can’t reach the peddles comfortably and even if I could – I can’t see over the dash! Not exactly the safest of driving posistions eh!?

On the plus side though – my instructor seems to think I have good road sense (to which I credit my former bike riding experience) I pick things up quickly and his car is well easy to drive!
This however didn’t stop me from stalling in the middle of a crossroads while attempting to turn right.

Seriously I think it’s a law: (Learner driver + first lesson) + busy crossroads = stalled car.

The thing is, the guy didn’t pick a nice quiet street or anything so I could familiarise myself with stopping and starting etc etc – Nooooooo… he picked one of the busy main roads, pulled up and told me to swap seats with him. I crapped myself.

Today is the first time in over 11 years that I’ve been in control of a car on a road. His attitude was “and..? You learn to drive by driving, set the car, check your mirrors, signal… off you go.”

So off I went. It was great right up until I stalled the damned thing. The guys in the white van were almost killing themselves with laughter, the lass to my right was giving off almost audible “awwww bless” vibes – as to the guys behind me… thankfully I have no clue what they were doing because I got the car moving again and scarpered… well, slowly turned right and drove off in 1st unable to change gear to speed up because it totally threw me… *sigh*
For a first lesson though, it was pretty cool. I’m actually looking forward to the next one, my instructor is actually pretty chilled, he made me feel relaxed despite myself.

Meeting the KI’ers

Just got back in, Claire and her mum are happily strumming away on the ol’ guitars and I’m nursing my throat *grin* Roll on 2007, the summer months.

As usual Claire blew everyone away, I would kill to have half that girls talent *sigh* just a shame I could never be arsed working for it eh?!
I don’t think I disappointed though – I’m still chuckling at the chavs faces – 3 lads at the bar who nearly dropped their drinks when I started the ‘Faiiiiith’ grunt.
Yup, I ended up covering the Limp Bizkit version of faith, was freaking hilarious no one ever expects someone who looks like me to sound like that lol
I’ll be chuckling about that for days – Claire was nearly crying, her mum wasn’t terribly impressed though – she was looking forward to us both doing some actual singing.

I’ve now met a bunch of the KI’ers and I gotta say – they are a fantastic crowd!
I just wish I lived a bit closer so we could organise more meet ups, Much as I love karaoke – I’m not up for a 5 and a half hour coach journey every time there’s a gathering.
Have been invited to a birthday bash in June though – seems one of the lads is also turning 30 in May, though the other end of the month to me, could be good for a laugh!

Ugh, bed – I’m shattered.
…Actually, that reminds me, quote of the night goes to Jackie though “You just seem to have so much energy – you always look as though you’re raring to go”
I know, Irene nearly wet herself laughing at that (probably because I’ve been asleep most of the day to ensure I had enough energy to go out – kinda overdid it last night dancing to the crazy frog…)

proof positive I’m addicted to blog

Me: So what do you think?

Him: I.. *stops and shifts weight slightly*

Me: did you just stop talking then to fart?!

Him *giggles* Might have.

Me: You mean to say that you can’t talk and fart at the same time? Oh my god! I so have to blog about that…

(told you I would *grin*)

Spreading the love

Happy New Year

Yup, if you’re reading this then you made it through all the crap that was thrown at us all last year, congratulations – have a big *hug* from me – and if you made a new years resolution then I wish you the best in luck and willpower and hope it wasn’t made when under the influence of anything liquid or chemical…There’s always going to be bad stuff, it’s the nature of things – but at least we know there’s some pretty fantastic stuff about as well to balance it all out. I’d like to throw a very public thank you to MY fantastic stuff for not only being there but being there with style, grace and love.
Cheers Stef, you really do mean the world to me my darlin’ lil’ mannums.
…And I’m not just saying that because you’re a brilliant cook *grin*

Before I start getting accused of still being under the influence myself – I’d like to point out that last night I had one brandy and about 3 sips of a cocktail, I was pretty darned sober – as I intend to stay throughout this year, I have better things to spend my money on *grin* like Stef (and with birthdays in mind – Mrs A – in your utopia people should be banned from mating 9 months prior to November, December and January! Birthdays are too good to be a holiday afterthought in the spending stakes!))

Nah, life is good. Last night should have reminded you that there are always people around it’s worth talking to and sharing good times and bad times with – even if it’s only a virtual sharing from halfway around the world.

(and now I have that chorus from the O’jays running through my head – you know “People all over the world, Join hands, Start a love train, Love train”)
Well – sod it, heres a new years love train speeding across the web to pass through these favourite stations of mine: Master K, Hot Karl, Brandie, Kitty, Patrick and Breanne, Jason and Jay, Eric, the aforementioned Mrs A, Dawn, Smidsey and the cheer spreading queen herself – the lovely Michele.

Should they choose to send it to further stations along the world wide web then fantastic, if not I hope at least a little joy leaks out and brightens their day!

Kisses people! Lots of hugs and kisses.
Isn’t life grand!

Laughing it up

I had another strange dream.
I was auditioning for the X-Factor, dressed as Lara Croft.

The cameras converged upon me and when I was asked the question “Why are you dressed as Lara Croft?” I calmly pulled out my gun and answered “One way or another I will be getting through.”
Don’t ask…
My song was cool though – I did “The weakness in me” by Joan Armatrading.

I’m not the sort of person
Who falls
And quickly
Of love
But to you I gave my affection
Right from the start

I have a lover
Who loves me
How could I break such a heart
Yet still you get my attention

Why do you come here
When you know I’ve got troubles
Why do you call me
When you know
I can’t answer the phone
Make me lie
When I don’t want to
And make someone else
Some kind of unknowing fool
You make me stay
When I should not
Are you so strong
Or is all the weakness in me
Why do you come here
And pretend
To be just passing by
But I mean to see you
And I mean to hold you

Feeling guilty
Waking from some tormented sleep
This old love has me bound
But the new one cuts deep

If I choose now
I’ll lose out
One of you has to fall
And I need you
And you.

It really is a fabulous song – and not one that I’d normally feel confident of carrying off because it’s fecking hard!
Still, that’s what dreams are for eh?!

Heard an amusing joke today, there we were, me and Gran, looking in the windows of a jewellers (as you do) discussing how nice it would be to just walk in and buy something without worrying where the money was coming from. This random bloke then joined in and it turned into an all out dig at ‘kids today’ who ‘don’t know they’re born’.
Yup, one of them.

After discussing the merits of gas central heating over the coal fires of old and reminiscing about stealing bags from the train stores (yup, they were really getting into it) this guy said that a mate of his was saying to his grandkids that they were so lucky these days because when he was a lad he was lucky if he got an apple and an orange for Christmas – the little kid apparantly answered in glee “you mean you got a mobile and an ipod?!”
Ba-dum pah!

It tickled my gran no end – I think the guy thought his luck was in because he carried on chatting to her for ages – what does it say about me that I just stayed where I could see if he tried a bit of pick-pocketing?

Oh – and the big news is that as of 11am this morning, I am officially divorced!
Yup – you heard it, poor Stef can no longer claim to be seeing a married woman *grin* how will he cope?!
The decree absolute has not left my side all day (literally, it’s cold out and it was in my coat pocket)
It was an incredible sensation though, I feel as though it’s finally signalled a close to the nasty portion of my life.
Seriously, I came out grinning like a loon and wanting to sing – I practically danced up to the town centre to meet my gran!

It was a pleasent surprise because I wasn’t expecting it to be done the day I applied for the Nisi to be made Absolute, but apparantly they now do all the finalising while you wait *grin*

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that being married to Stewart was hellish – he’s a great bloke whom I still have infrequent amicable contact with, but the marriage itself was a mistake brought about as a result of our situation at the time (not pregnancy before anyone starts nodding knowingly and whispering the words “shot gun”) I really think that if either of us had been in a decent headspace back then we’d have maybe had a fling and just stayed friends, but there was a lot of other crap that contributed to our decision to marry and now that the ‘mistake’ has been rectified it’s a definte closing of a chapter for me.

The future’s so bright, I gotta wear shades.


Stef, my beloved – the evil one who has the ability to wrest a smile from my face even as he tortures me, has asked that I tell this tale from my point of view.

You see, I’d been lying there in the grip of complete fatigue, dying for a drink despite knowing I had lost the ability to grasp a cup. Stef asked if I wanted a drink and at my grunted response realised there was no point so went to make his own.
About 20 minutes later I had revived enough that I could request a decaf coffee – I’d had images of this drink dancing before my eyes as I came around and the fact that it was made with the last of the milk just made savouring it all the more important to my eyes.
Yes, it was a cracking shot – I have to admit it was a slam dunker. But WHY did it have to be in that drink?!

There I was nursing the warm cup in my hands, trying to cover it to avoid the kind of shot he was threatening as I was only on my 3rd sip of this delicious nectar when:


My face, arms, knee and the floor before me were covered in coffee.

I was not happy.

This drink I had craved for the last hour was now undrinkable because of the fluff covered blu-tack floating in it’s murky depths. His howls of glee and duck walking celebratory dance did nothing to ease my mood from foul and intense disappointment to the glee and awe he so desperately craved.

I couldn’t even get a fresh one because there was no milk. I can’t stand black coffee – I like it milky. He’s still congratulating himself on the shot even now – I’d be more impressed if I hadn’t ended up covered in it – s’all right for him, he was at the other side of the bloody room!!!


Flowers? For me?

I’m quite overcome.

No – really. I’ve always dreamed that someday a handsome admirer would send flowers to my workplace (yes I am that sad, once again I’ll blame the early exposure to mills & boon) and look it’s finally (kinda) happened.

I’m truly touched. Aren’t they beautiful?


My poor mannums has been put to shame – I also have a nice new tv lol
and to think I’dve settled purely for the flowers! *sigh* I must be the cheapest date in the history of cheap dates.

I’m just not a royalist

Just found this on the WAYN message boards – made me cackle so I thought I’d share:

Royal Wedding

As Camilla was making last-minute preparations to walk down the aisle, she found that her shoes were missing.
She was forced to borrow her sister’s,which were a bit on the small side. When the day’s festivities were finally over, Charles and Camilla retired to their room, right next door to the Queen’s and Prince Phillip’s.

As soon as Charles and Camilla were inside their room, Camilla flopped on the bed and said, “Darling, please get these shoes off. My feet are killing me.”

The ever-obedient Prince of Wales attacked the right shoe with vigour, but it was stuck fast.

“Harder!” Camilla yelled. “Harder!”

“I’m trying, darling!” The Prince yelled back. “It’s just so bloody tight!”

“Come on! Give it all you’ve got!” There was a big groan from the Prince, and then Camilla exclaimed,

“There! That’s it! Oh that feels good! Oh that feels SO good!”

In the bedroom next door, the Queen turned to Prince Phillip and said, “See? I told you, with a face like that she was still a virgin.”

Back in the bridal suite, Charles was trying to pry off the left shoe.

“Oh, my God, darling! This one’s even tighter!” exclaimed the heir to the throne.

At which Prince Phillip turned to the Queen and said,

“That’s my boy – Once a Greek, always a Greek!”

I’m looking forward to seeing Claire, we’re heading to the sunny south tomorrow. Fun times people…

misheard lyrics

Conversation between me and the bloke this afternoon:

Me: singing along to the commitments album

Him: What did Sally do?

Me: Huh?!

Him: What did she do to deserve hanging?

Me: (after a split seconds blankness)

Him: No really – that’s what I used to think he was singing “Must hang

Me: more laughter

Him: Honestly, I used to think she must be some kind of dirty whore –
always after a ride and that’s why they wanted to hang her.

Me: Babe… You crack me up!

The cooker got fitted this morning – and the council finally sent someone round to remove the wilderness that was my garden – I have steps!
I’ll need to dig the whole lot up though and seed it – there’s just so much crap in there that’ll start growing again otherwise. But at least I now have somewhere to stick a washing line *grin*

I’m a little upset that the first meal I cooked on my (for K’s benefit) ‘stove’ is beans on toast though *sigh* I’m such a culinary genius…

I had another of those “God I’m old” moments when I was walking back through the precinct the other day. I happened to see an old guy hobbling on a crutch, a small kid ran up behind him – I instinctively tensed thinking an intervention may be in order – but the kid had just picked up the fella’s mobile phone and was chasing him to return it.

It’s a little sad that I was shocked about this small act of kindness and honesty – I’m so used to kids being complete little shits that I automatically assumed he was going to just kick the guys crutch from underneath him and run off laughing (I’ve seen it before, sadly I think we’ve all seen that kind of thing before) I know I’m old when I can turn round and say that when I was a kid, that would have been unheard of, Jesus! My arse would have been black and blue for weeks if I’d been seen doing anything like that!
These days, the kids are more likely to run off with it and sell it (after using up the credit/ running up a huge bill) rather than chase down the street to return it. It just made me glow a bit inside to see that at least some of the kids around here have been brought up right. He didn’t even stick around for thanks, just handed it back and fecked orf.

OH!! In other news…
I’m soooooooo glad I didn’t make a start on decorating the bathroom yet. It appears that I’m getting a new kitchen and bathroom courtesy of the council, I’m also going to be having the bedroom window double glazed to match the rest of the house (and after all that bloody work sanding it down and repainting the fecker!) I’ll also have to redo half the front room because they are apparently ripping out the back boiler and replacing it with a new one.

Once again – lets all cheer for the organisational ability of a local council *sigh* I’m not complaining about all this wonderful work, the flat can only benefit from it. I’m just a bit pissed that they obviously knew all this was going to happen when I signed up for the place but they waited until I’d decorated before telling me. I’m just praying that the flooring survives!
Mind you – this is the council I will be waiting on, it could be this time next year before they get round to me (the guy who came to measure up figures it’ll be the back end of this year – I’d add at least 6 months to that guess, after all, it’s taken over a month for them to come and fix a window that should’ve been done before I moved in…)
Right, time to go check my mail *grin* Thank everything that’s good for library internet facilities…

the life cycle of a blogger, and stuff..

I am a VERY happy bunny right now *massive grin*
Having sat down after dancing around the house like a mad thing and screaming “yes YES yeeeeeeees” at the top of my lungs (god knows what poor Gerry next door must be thinking) I’ll just throw some love out to you guys:

*** *** *** *** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** * * * * * * * * * * * LOVE * * LOVE * ** ** *** *** ** ** *** *** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** * * * ** ** * * * * * * * * * * LOVE * * LOVE * *** *** ** ** *** *** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** * * * ** ** * * * ** ** * * * * * * * LOVE * * LOVE * ** ** *** *** ** ** *** *** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** * * * ** ** * * * * * * * * * * LOVE * * LOVE * ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** * *

I like letters like that, good news, the best pick me up in the world!

Now all I need to do is sort out the feckers at the housing.

Anyhow, before checking my snail mail, I was looking through the comments over at Johnnies blog and decided that I too would steal this delightful run down from Amie:

1.“Start reading blogs.”
2. “You start a blog.”
3. “You become a stats whore.”
4. “You become really personal on your site as the online and real-life worlds start confusing you.”
5. “You faux “retire” from blogging.”
6. “You cave back into blogging in less than 72 hours.”
7. “You decide to “get serious” about blogging.”
8. “You have a pseudo flirty im/blogging/flickr flirting relationship with another blogger whom you have never met.
9. “You decide that you must meet other bloggers.”
10. “You take a step back and metablog about blogging and what blogging has done about your blogging.”
11. “See step 5.”
12. “You decide that as a result of step 10 and having repeated step 5 more than 3 times in the course of your lifecycle as a blogger, that you need to sanitize or reinvent your blog.”
13. “You either lose your job because of blogging, are afraid of losing your job for blogging, or join a company that builds blogging tools.”
14. “You decide to start an anonymous livejournal blog.”

I've mixed 'em up a bit though - somehow I hit #10 a while back without managing to do steps 5,6 or 7 - can't do #9 because you all live the other side of the bleedin' ocean!
Feckers. Move!

Right, I'm going to go back to happy dancing around the house as I tackle the laundry mountain and my wardrobes.
Yup, today is clothes day as far as I'm concerned - about time I weeded the chaff from the grain (or in this case the clothes I do wear from the clothes I never wear unless everything else is unclean... I know, I'm disgusting, should've been born a man.)

Pity my neighbours, I intend to sing muchly today - despite the sinisitus and crusty throat.
Life is good!


Sean’s ace!

My housemate (as previously mentioned many times before) is a filthy animal, I’m beginning to think this may just be a mark of some form of genius…
He’s planning on disappearing into some place a 2 day donkey trek outside civilization to watch a bunch of Howler monkeys for several months or more, this is the type of blog entry he’s promised he’d make about this experience:

Today I saw a Mighty Dancing Aphid emerge from its cocoon. I sat there in awe as its majestic, two foot long beak emerged from the casing, followed by a long cylindrical head covered with shards of luminous blue exo-skeleton… It took its first steps into a new life right in front of my eyes and I swear, I never even thought I could see something as beautiful as this…
Then the bastard bit me. The doctors tell me I can either have my genitals removed or they’ll rot off on their own and I’ll die. I’m still not sure…

*giggles and claps hands delightedly*

Just watched Futurama with Said filthy beastie and the following exchange prompted an interesting thought…

Leela: you don’t need a statue for people to remember you

Bender: I don’t?

Me: I do!

Sean looked up and said “But it wouldn’t need to be one big statue – it could just be lots of tiny little ones… Picture it – in a thousand years, archaeologists come across these things scattered everywhere, worldwide. They’d think you were worshipped as a goddess. I was going to do something like that myself…”

Now I just need a suitable design and someone to make ’em – who’d want a Vee-Kee statuette?
…More importantly – who’d sign up to the cult? I think it’d take a little more evidence than a few me replicas for future archaeologists to believe in a Vee-Kee cult.

Lets see – my commandments are simple. (worship me, have fun, don’t hurt anyone, be nice to everyone you meet) I’m a truly ace individual with many goddess-like qualities, I work in mysterious ways – Ways so mysterious, not even I know them.
Yup – this could work… I’m beginning to think I dismissed Sean’s cult idea in error, but still – almost a year to the day of first mentioning it on my blog, I am ready to embrace this plan.
Go forth my lovelies and spread the word – the time of the VEE-KEE is nigh!