Three things...

...that I learned whilst going to the shop for potting compost.

1. Regarding the posh blonde girl giving me evil looks all round the shop:

1a) if she's the sort of person who slaps down a £20 note whilst the girl at the till is ringing up her multiple small purchases which add up to about £2, and

1b) sneers at the girl when she didn't notice the money due to her having been busy bagging all the crap, then I don't care that she gave me dirty looks, because I look down on her.

2. People stuck at traffic lights in their cars get weirded out when you properly look at them.

3. (slightly connected to 2) People don't make eye contact or smile. There's several places between the shop and my house where I had to hoist my bags up to avoid bumping people. I smiled. I tried to make eye contact. Nothing. I'd at least smile and say thanks if someone did that for me. I guess I'm still a small-town girl.

Photo Party!

Dead Pigeon.








A huge circle o' poo.


Some bizarre graffiti...


...and one that makes me laugh.


A lovely bra. And an unhoovered carpet.


Some of my beloved plants. The two in front (l-r) are Tasha and Erica, the ones I bought yesterday, and the ones at the back (l-r) are Eddie (who I bought today), Giles and Spike.


A really odd photo of Johnny taken from above.


A sexy picture of my beloved man's watch and my wrist.


Oh, also, someone found my blog by MSN-searching the phrase 'How to give better blowjobs' (see my post here...)

I'm strangely happy about that.

Saturday Night Fever

Today we went to IKEA. A lot of people seem to consider IKEA to be some sort of suburban hellhole, but I like it. It seems cheery.

Plus we tend to avoid the maze-like furniture areas unless we absolutely have to go into them. They're disturbing, those bits. There are little shortcuts through the dividing walls, but they always lead to areas that you could swear were on the other side of the building, and sometimes on a different floor.

No, we go there for the cheap kitchenware, the cheap hotdogs, and the plant section. Mainly the plant section.

You know our problem with our plant obsession, but yet again we left the shop with two new plants, and several extra plant pots.

We bought Erica, who's an Areca, and Tasha, who's a fig tree. Her and Ben should get on. We thought females were slightly under-represented, so they should even things up a little.

And we went to the supermarket out by IKEA, where they stocked some delicious (but expensive) Lapsang Souchong (or Lapdog Shoesnog, as Stephen Fry says) tea, and fresh scotch bonnet chillis. They don't stock the chillis in the branch near our house, needless to say.
*sigh*
We love our chillis.
Of course, I managed to get chilli juice in my eye and in a cut on my hand whilst chopping them, but that's a small price to pay for the deliciousness.

So I shall spend my evening watching improbable crime dramas, eating steak and stuffed potatoes (we always eat late on a Saturday), reading, and pootling online.

So that was my Saturday. What did you do?

Media* frenzy!

*In order to collect your media, please tear off the enclosed coupon and send it to the following address:
123 Fake Street
Springfield

These books are funny. Check out the bit where you can have a free personalised preview...

Words I have been enjoying recently

megaphallic
esquire
susurrus
ant
template
vim
umbrage
chthonic
lascivious
viridian

A big list of what are described as 'creepy' websites.

Lord of the buttocks!

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

I don't know what's wrong with me today. I keep having to do things like phone Matt to check he still likes me, and I can't stick to one work-related item for more than 15 minutes before jumping to something else. This post has taken me all day to write, because I can't concentrate on that either. I'm all buzzy, but exhausted at the same time.
Blech. Nothing a good evening on the sofa won't fix.

Note to the three people with surfboards wandering around the train station at lunchtime: When carrying a surfboard, abruptly coming to a standstill then turning round is NOT A GOOD IDEA. Surfboards hurt when they whack you.

I have no idea what this means: Star Guitar
Michel Gondry returns to the Chems stable to sync up the beat with the aesthetic in fine style. Groundbreaking and the perfect compliment to the pulsating new track from Tom and Ed.

But this article on the Chinese Room Argument is very interesting.

This is really cool. And the Dhives Akuru script is beautiful.

And getting back to yesterday's topic, doesn't this picture of Janeane Garofalo make her look like Alyssa Milano?

A chicken sandwich with both sweet chilli and mayonnaise tastes... odd. And I can't work out if it's good-odd or bad-odd. I ate the whole thing, so I suppose it counts as good-odd. But still...

Dictionary.com doesn't have the British use of the word 'allotments'. I suppose that makes sense when you find out the source: "The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition Copyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company." Webster's has it, though. That's nice.

List of things I want to buy before the influx in May

A teapot
More towels
Lots of loo roll, teabags etc
Disposable BBQs
Non-refrigerator related food
Plates?

There. Wasn't that a parade of mundanity?
*sigh*
Is it May yet?

Lazy Blogger Day

Today is Lazy Blogger Day, so I'll just type stuff as and when I remember them. Watch out for the random, it's a little on the sticky side.

I may be in love with Janeane Garofalo. She's just so witty and intelligent! And cute. And she always looks so young, despite the fact she was born in 1964. That last one's more of an observation than a reason I like her.

Thought - shouldn't salt and vinegar crisps taste of... well... salt and/or vinegar? Blech. Plus, I don't believe that circles are as novelty a shape for potato based snacks as squares. I don't know why. Maybe because squares are not a shape that are generally found in food items. Plus, square crisps are nice.

I was having a chat with a guy at work yesterday, and he re-enforced the message that one must pass some form of 'test' and gain some sort of 'licence' to drive a fork-lift truck. Yes, even the cute little red one. Hmph.

Oh! BDP news (it's been a long time)! There's been 36 loads of concrete blocks under there over the past couple of days. Pigeon activity has been at a minimum, but I do have a couple of Dead Pigeon pictures from a while back that I don't think I posted. They're still on the camera (so, no I didn't post them, obviously), but I'm sure I'll get round to posting them any day now.

I think people know I got overexcited in a bookshop yesterday and spent £35 (Which is $72 Canadian, $83 Australian, $62 and a half American, or 51 Euros).
I'm most of the way through The Hamster That Loved Puccini, which is hilarious. I would recommend it. And what a great review it has!

This book solves about a dozen Christmas presents! I have just finished reading THE HAMSTER, which a friend told me made her laugh so much she had to get off the tube as people were looking at her strangely.

Of course, this means I had to bring a back-up book to work, as the prospect of having nothing to read leaves me shaky and speechless with dread.

Speaking of that, I've started to notice some of my books going missing. I haven't seen my copy of the book of Playground Law in ages. Mysterious black hole? Thieving magpies? Murd'rers?

Who can say?

Also, is it really sad to leave a shop to avoid someone? I was in an art gallery shop (so it's probably best for my bank account that I was driven away) and there was a guy there that I went to college with. We didn't fight or anything back then, but I just didn't want to talk to him. Is that weird?

FOUND magazine is fascinating. I ended up circling around it for ages, reading all the notes. Some are funny, some sad. Go. Read!

And finally, for I have just realised this is in danger of becoming the size of a large encyclopedia, we unexpectedly went into the living room the other night and turned on the light. Johnny Ransom was hanging, entirely still, from the roof of his cage, looking for all the world like a jewel thief lowering himself from the ceiling of a museum, then stopping for the guard to walk, oblivious, beneath him. Practising his Soldier of Fortuning, I s'pose. Wow. That sounded a lot funnier when remembered it. It was jolly funny at the time, anyway.

Ok, finally finally (I know, but it's breaking news) Matt's contract has been extended at work. Yay!

I blame Bridget Jones. (Warning - Rant alert!)

How come, ten years after it was published, magazines are still publishing articles on 'singletons' and 'smug marrieds'? I don't know why this bugs me so much (well, actually I do, but I'll get to that), as I don't even read that sort of magazine*, but it makes me so annoyed every time I see a headline like that. I know I'm biased. I realise that. But what sort of stupid generalisation is that? It strikes me as about as weird as racism, sexism, or any other type of -ism. People are people. If you're a smug, horrible person, you're a smug horrible person. You don't change into one because you get married.

Obviously, this is a sore point for me. Partially because I'm never sure why I should be smug, or in what way.

Actually, thinking about it, it's odder than any of the -isms, because these articles are surrounded by other articles on 'How to Please Your Man', 'How to Get That Ring on Your Finger', or 'How to Give Him Better Blowjobs So He Doesn't Leave You' and so on (I may have made that last one up), which tends to suggest that, despite the deriding, marriage is the ultimate goal.

And why isn't it such a 'taboo' (for want of a better word) to have a boyfriend? The world isn't split into married people and single people. What about those in a long-term monogamous relationships? What about that?

It seems depressing that there's a whole self-confessed 'Bridget Jones generation' who liken themselves to the heroine (I use the word loosely) of this book.

None of the single women I know are anything like her, thank god, nor do I think of them as 'singletons' or look down on them. I hope they don't see me as the stereotyped 'smug married', either. I prefer to see people in their own right as, I'd imagine, do they. Seeing as we're none of us depressing, clichéd, one-dimensional characters. Unlike Bridget Jones and company.



*I must admit to reading middle age ladies' magazines like Chat and Bella. Far more puzzles (you know how I like my puzzles) and a far higher chance of headlines like 'Gutted - my lover's son left me for dead'. What I loosely call 'Girls' magazines tend to edge more towards fourteen pages on handbags, and I can't bring myself to care.

Excitability! For some reason!

Firstly! I received this in my email this morning, from my oldest* and best friend.
It's the only decent 'friendship' forward I've ever been sent.

Are you tired of all those sissy "friendship" poems?
Well, here is a series of promises that really speaks of true friendship:

1. When you are blue - I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.

2. When you are scared - I will rag on you about it every chance I get.

3. When you are worried - I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and to quit whining.

4. When you are confused - I will use little words.

5 When you are sick - Stay the hell away from me until you are well again.I don't want whatever you have.

6. When you fall - I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.

7. When you smile - I will know you finally got laid.

8. When you are sad - I will help you get drunk and plot revenge againstthe sorry bastard who made you sad.

This is my oath...I pledge it till the end.

Then send this to 10 of your close friends

Remember: A good friend will help you move, but a really good friend will help you move a body.

Let me know if I ever need to bring a shovel....

*I now am going to completely overexplain myself, and point out that I mean 'oldest' as in having been a friend for longest, and not 'oldest' as in she's a hundred and twelve. Man, I can't believe I edited for this. Remind me to tell you about my OCD sometime, 'k?

Secondly! I've never really been a 'gadget' sort of person. I like gadgets, sure, but I never owned them. Matt and I shared the same crappy mobile phone with the back taped on until it died. We recently, however, became a two-mobile couple. My cousin (you remember her, she said we were going to hell) has some sort of deal wherein she gets a new mobile every year, so she donated her old one to us. It has a camera in it. How very snazzy.

Anyway, what with the camera phone, the MP3 player, the digital camera and the computer and fancy scanner (last year's birthday present from the in-laws), I'm currently feeling suited, booted and gadgeted up. I love the MP3 player. I adore it. I've only got about 30 songs on it so far, but I don't care. It's dinky and fits in my hand, and I get to have music wherever I go, without having rings on my fingers and bells on my toes! (Other than the fact that I do have rings on my fingers. But that's beside the point.)
It's this one. Gosh. I've just seen that it says it's a radio too. I really should read the instructions.

Secondly and a half! Does anyone else do the very geeky thing of pretending the music in your earphones is your own personal soundtrack? Anyone? Especially Boulevard of Broken Dreams, which seems to lend itself nicely to walking home in the dark. And especially when I'm wearing my big swishy Scottish Widows type coat.

Thirdly! It turns out you have at least until Saturday to escape the inevitable onslaught of the Brit comedy thing, for that is when my sister is coming round to my house and we're properly having a go at it. Revel in the freedom!

Gosh, I didn't mean for this to be so blasphemous.

Jesus had a puppy. This has to be a spoof, right?

When Jesus made his second coming he was not saved by a rabbit that dug him out of his tomb, but rather by a puppy that directed the rabbit as to where to find our lord. For this we should actually associate easter with our lord and his puppy rather than a rabbit. Below is a depiction of Jesus, his puppy and a rabbit.

It must be. Right? Right? Please tell me it is...

Homeless or Jesus? This is quite an entertaining short game...

Now, I told my sister about this post of mine, regarding British comedy actors. Since she had nothing better to do, she took up the challenge to see if any other actors could be added to the cabal, or any programmes, films etc.
Well! We're going great guns (to the extent of phoning each other up and shouting "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy!" and so on). So, hopefully, soon there'll be a more in-depth working of this, possibly with charts. I realise this is a risk I'm taking, posting something which nobody cares about bar my sister and I, but I seem to have got away with it in the past!

Well...

I've been ill. Remember those symptoms I had? Multiply them by about 13 times, and there you have it. Fevered for about a week. Very unpleasant. I'm getting better, though. All that's left is fatigue, a hacking cough, depression, and a foul temper (I'm so sorry, Chary). Back to work on Monday, thank god. I never thought I'd say that, but it's so boring to be at home all the time. I completely ruined Matt's festive holiday, though, for which I feel very bad.

Today we went to the pet shop. We missed our little rodenty companions. We bought a little brown and white fluffy hamster.
It's called Johnny 'The Bullet' Ransom: Soldier of Fortune. It may or may not be a boy.

I'm going to stop updating now, as the computer's on the floor, and my back's starting to hurt. However, it's nice to be blogging again.