What a week

There has just been too much going on in my life for me to take it all in. And I know this post is going to sound all whiney, but that's exactly how I feel at the moment. Tired, emotional, and really overwhelmed by everything. All I want to do is stay at home, watch tele, and just dig my head in the sand. But unfortunately, it's time to start acting like the adult I'm supposed to be, and just get the bloody hell on with it....

1. Moving house & the great appliance debacle
Holy crap there is so much to do. I have to get so many services ported across to the new place, like water and gas and electricity and phones. On top of that work has been a bitch, so I can't seem to find the time to do everything. PLUS, I have to buy a cooker, fridge and a washing machine, and for some reason I just can not make up my mind. I've never heard of brands like "Indesit" (or as I've now heard them called Indeshit), "Cannon" or "HotPoint". How am I supposed to make an informed choice? I think I've got the washer/dryer/fridge/freezer thing nailed down. I just have to get down to buying the bloody things.

The thing is that now I am suffering from a total lack of conviction, and I am completely indecisive about everything. I was trying to buy a card reader this morning, and got totally flustered about buying a £8 reader or a £6 reader. The cheaper one is from Amazon, but the more expensive one seemed to have a longer cord. This is all it takes to floor me now. I can't decide if I should have one piece of toast or two. Eat sushi for lunch or hot dogs. Am I thirsty now or not? Do I want to sue the people who are selling me my house or not??? What is fucking wrong with me????

2. Police
I got a call on Tuesday from Aylesbury police. We went to Aylesbury for the weekend last week to show The Flatmate how random the whole place was. So when I get a call from a police woman, saying that she has some questions for me I think "holy crap? What did I do? Did I assault someone and not remember it, even though I wasn't that drunk? ". She then asks me if we stayed at the hotel which we did stay in. This has me thinking "hmm, I'm sure The Flatmate paid the bill? We did take the biscuits from the room, but they were supposed to be complimentary??? We didn't trash the room at any stage.. maybe they're calling because I couldn't get the tap to stop slowly dripping... Maybe it is over the 50 pence biscuits... but they weren't even that good..". The police woman then starts questioning me on whether we saw anything suspicious on Saturday night because they are investigating an incident of a rape at the hotel, possibly involving a man or a member of staff. This has me completely freaked, because we were there, but we didn't see anything.. admittedly, we also had a good amount of whiskey and cokes in us, but still... that's really freaked me out to be honest... What if C or I had been alone in the room and someone tried to break in? What if they accused The Flatmate because he was alone in his room? How could I have been at a hotel, where there were so few people, and not notice some woman had been brutally assaulted? There is this real feeling of guilt for some reason, that I can't seem to shake.

3. FOP
FOP week has been moving along slowly. Unfortunately The Flatmate called me up all in a state because all the restaurants he wants to go to are full on Saturday, and he didn't think about making any arrangements prior to today. This gets me annoyed because I'd spent most of the week "reminding" (ok, fine, nagging) him to get things organised, and he'd just get annoyed at me for "reminding" (nagging) him. So I didn't have the greatest amount of sympathy when he spent ages on the phone complaining that he'd left it too late. All well that ends well, because he finally found somewhere, we just hope that all the vegetarian/vegan/non-beef/non-red meat eaters will be ok with an Argentinian Steak House. I like steak, and yes, my name is Jack and I'm alright.

4. FUCKING HOUSE
I've officially completed today. So officially I am supposed to be living there today. I am supposed to have the keys. I am not supposed to have the sellers living there. I told my solicitor about this whole not moving in until Sunday thing, and how the estate agent (never deal with Foxtons) had specifically told me not to say anything to them, and she's gone dead set nuts. Now she's servicing them notice telling them that if they're not out we're going to charge them, and if they aren't out on Sunday at 2pm, we're going to sue them. Apparently I could ask them to pay for the two days they are living there, and if they didn't pay then it would be up to the estate agent to pay, completely explaining why the estate agent didn't want me to say anything.

I just want an easy life! I just want to move in without all this freakin' hassle. Fuck fuck fuck.

On the plus side, Calv pointed out that we are going to a casino tonight, and if I get the keys today, I could just throw them on a roulette table and say "all on black". Then I'd have to explain to everyone why I was living out of a cardboard box, because I don't own a house anymore.....

FOP, Wrists and Boggle Eyes

I know I've not finished regaling (aka boring) you with stories of Svalbard (where it's not -37.6C, but when we were there it was a pathetic -1C) but so much else has happened, so I'll do Svalbard later.

1st: Groaning Debt
It seems that after 6 painful, head banging against the wall, hair wrenching months, I've finally exchanged on my flat! I'm getting the keys on Friday, and legally, I'm bound to it like a hostage, gagged and flung into the back of a car. However, as nothing with this house has gone smoothly, the vendor can't move out of the flat until Sunday, because he can't drive and he has to wait for his brother to help him move (what is wrong with hiring a dude and a truck I ask?) , the vendor, his girlfriend and son will be squatting in my flat for 48 hours. My esteemed estate agent told me "well, this does happen all the time, but best not mention it to your lawyer eh?". So obviously not trusting this sleazy man as far as I could throw his short, squat, rotund, little body, I ran and told my lawyer who was less than pleased. But still, squatting aside, it's done now, and some of my lovely friends are helping me move my junk on Monday. Love the lovely friends

2. FOP
It's finally happened. The Flatmate has an end date, a get out of jail, exit strategy finally planned.

Last Friday, removalists came to pack up his stuff and ship it all back to Australia. Naturally, being a complete hoarder, his estimated 15 boxes turned into 35, probably because he's taken a load of my crap too (why? my dresses won't fit him, he's way too tall!). So our flat is not 1/2 empty, and devoid of all things his. Amusing he's living out of a suit case for the next 2 weeks, and because they've taken all his stuff, including his linen, he is sleeping in his sleeping bag, on a naked mattress. Talk about temporary. Also, being seduced by the lovely warm March spring weather last week, he packed all his cold weather gear, and now is paying the price as it's fucking freezing in London, and it's starting to snow again. Snow. In London. In March. It must be some sort of punishment from the gods for abandoning me. Obviously the gods are on my side, and want the wicked Flatmate to freeze. Ha!

So the next 2 weeks are FOP week for The Flatmate (FOP = Fuck Off Phil). A vast array of events, all involving eating, drinking and spending money I don't actually have anymore.


3. Punishment for Boggle Eyes.
Speaking of punishment, on Saturday, probably in answer to me taking C and The Flatmate to Aylesbury, where Dr D grew up, for a truly, mid England, thug filled, old men coping off with old women in sleazy nightclubs, with lots of underage kids thrown in the mix as well, night out. We thought The Flatmate needed to see the randomness that is a night on the tiles in Aylesbury. And also I was making a last ditch attempt at keeping The Flatmate in London, by throwing a 5Ft 9, blond, yes slightly boggled eyed, friend of Dr Dr in his path. Of course it never works out the way I plan, as whilst she looked kindof interested in The Flatmate, that interest waned very quickly when Dr D said "well, I work with her* (pointing at me) and he (pointing at the Flatmate) lives with her (pointing back at me).." At this, her boggle eyes looked at The Flatmate, then back at me, then back at the Flatmate, probably trying to work out what sort of weird bunch we were, then she buggered off literally 10 seconds later. So in punishment for me trying to change The Flatmates destiny, I've managed to end up with tendonitis (or more accurately De Quervian tenosynovitis) in my right wrist. Basically, my wrist is fucked, and I can't grip, hold a pen, move a mouse or type. You find being a programmer who can't type or use a mouse is very difficult. I went to the minor injuries unit at the hospital yesterday, only to wait in the queue behind what seemed like a thousand people, all of whom seemed to have open cuts, broken feet or missing limbs. 2 hours I sat waiting, so I could finally see a nurse, try and explain that whilst I did go out on Sat night, and yes, my wrist started hurting on Sat night, I did not go out, get pissed, and fall over and hurt myself, and that this definitely is not a UDI (Unidentified Drinking Injury). 20 seconds of looking and my arm, she sticks my wrist in a splint, says "rest" and packs me off. So much for the NHS.

*Amended because Dr D has issues. BIG HAIRY ISSUES.

So that's what's been happening here. Sprained limbs, house moving, and FOP events. It's going to be very weird now as we start doing our "lasts" of everything. Last dinners at fave restaurants, last nights in, last fights involving fisty cuffs, and kicking.. It all sounds a bit perverse huh? Good thing The Flatmate never reads this..

Longyearbyen, our first day. AKA Boffins on Ice

This was the day we went dog sledding... And Dr D realised he had Superman/Indiana Jones fantasies, whilst the Magic saw himself more like a Bond style hero...

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It's been such a cool day today. We spent the morning doing a dog sleding tour around an iced over lake!

Calv, and The Flatmate took one sled, and Dr D, Magic and I were on the other, being pulled along by 9 very, very eager huskies. All 3 of us had a go at leading the dogs, whilst the other two sat on the sledge, and it was amazing fun! Before we started off, these dogs were yappy, and jumpy, and so excited. But once we took off, they all turned into serious working mutts.


Dr D so far has not had a very good animal tour/holiday ration so far. In America a few years ago, we went horse riding, and he managed to pull his groin really badly when his horse got ultra greedy and kept trying to eat the grass, whilst not bothering to stop first. What must have seemed like a real time saving move at the time turned into Dr D's near death experience, as the horse refused to stop eating, lost it's balance, and nearly fell over, possibly leaving Dr D in a more pancake shape.. This time, he was surely hoping to have less life threatening animal touring experience, but even so, when he took the reins he seemed a bit nervous. Once he started getting into the swing of it, he really took to it, looking around, urging the dogs to run faster, saying how much fun it was, giggling like an excited school girl. Inevitably cockiness overrules, and he starts to think "this dog sled driving is a piece of piss", and so he starts trying to make snow balls with his foot (we still have no idea why??), whilst dogs are pulling us along at a not to be sniffed at trot. Slowly I notice the constant Dr D chatter has stopped, to be replaced with the occasional "oops" and "ooh dear". When I turn around, he wasn't so much standing on the sled, but more being dragged, Indiana Jones style, belly down, along the snow, behind the sled. Apparently he had managed to get too much snow caught in his boot, trip a bit, completely fuck up, and fall over. Rather than letting anyone know what he'd done of course, he thought he could "fix it" before we noticed, and was trying to drag himself back up. The only problem with this plan is that the snow is of course too soft for him to get a good grip with his shoe on, and everytime he tries to put his foot down, he just sinks into the snow even deeper. He literally was dragged about 100 m, with 9 huskies pulling our sled along before we noticed. When we saw this, The Magic jumped up on the sled quick as lightning, trying to manouvere his way to get to the break, thus saving his best friend for drowning in snow. Unfortunately, whilst The Magic jumped up like a hero, and he fell down like a boffin.

So now, this leaves me, on a sled, alone, being dragged by 9 uber excited huskies, no driver and no way to stop. Screaming "STOP" at the dogs does no good of course, because these puppies don't understand English or even the more common English Louder. All the other sleds in front unfortunately do speak english, and by now have all stopped their sleds and are watching Dr D and the Magic running after, laughing their arses off, and falling over in the snow. They also watch me preacriously climbing my way to the back of the sled, sure footed like a cow on ice skates, throw the anchor, lose my footing, and get dragged along the side of the sled until the dogs ran into the people in front. I've never been so embarrased to be a nerdy boffin in my life!


So all in all Dr D succesfully managing animals on a tour 0, Animals Trying to Kill Dr D whilst on holiday 2.

Tomorrow we're off ice caving in a river glacier, in the evening. Now I'm not too keen on closed in spaces, but I've been assured that this is the tour were I won't have to crawl under hundreds of metres of ice on my hands and knees. Being opressed by a ton of ice is not something i'm particularly looking forward to, but then again, neither is flying and I manage to do that ok.

Svalbard Day 1

Here's Day 1 in Svalbard.

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Well we've finally made it to the Arctic Circle! After a 4 hour delay in Tromso because of blizzards in Longyearbyen, we spent a few hours sitting on the plane, hoping we were actually going to make it here today. When we finally did land in Svalbard, there were amazing snow drifts coarsing over the runway. Even though you know the temperature is going to be way below freezing, nothing prepares you for how cold that really is. Taking in that first breath of sub zero air was such a shock it threw me into a coughing fit. It was unbelievable. And because it's all snowing, and dark, my perception has been completely thrown, and I find that I am unable to distinguish the things that I'm looking at.. is that snow on the roof? Is that a roof at all or just a part of the sky? Is that a car or a bear? Or am I just hungry...?

But now we've all checked into our apartments at the SAS Radisson (oh yes people. We go to the acrtic circle and stay in style.. nice!), and we've gotten all of our cold weather gear (including my new hat which has a deer on it! Not quite as dangerous as a seal I'm sure), and gone our for a walk around town.. the only problem with that is that we keep getting distracted by all the feather light snow, and we all just keep falling over and rolling in it. A bit like dogs. It really is amazing here. Freezing and dark, but amazing.

So we're off to have dinner now, in the hotel restaurant, which looks amazing. And surprisingly heaps cheaper than Oslo! Tomorrow we've got a 3 hour dog sled tour booked, where we get to meet the doggies, harness them and drive them around! I'm so excited!


Firstly though, here's my personal checklist of things to do on this holiday:

1. Try Seal
   
2. Try reindeer
   
3. Try Deer - done
   
4. Dogsleding
   
5. Snowmobiling
   
6. Snowball fight
   
7. See the Doomsday Vault
   
8. See the Northern Lights
   
9. See the Polar bears
   
10. See glaciars
    
11. Possibly, run outside in my underwear in the snow....
    

24 hours in Oslo

Well, it's over. 2 months of planning, anticipation, worry about polar bear mauling, and sheer excitment has ended with 8 fantastic, sometimes bitterly cold, days in Norway, and it's little territory called Svalbard. I was going to blog whilst I was away, since I brought my laptop with me, but blogger had other ideas. My blog was flagged as spam(!) and I had to email the powers that be and ask them to give me my account back. Spam I tell you. Phnarr. You've never heard so much swearing when I found out. Sailors would have blushed.

Anyway, here's the first post I had written up whilst away. I figure I'll post all the ones I've written, and then do a little recap in the end. Included in future posts are things like:

1) Me being abandoned on a dog sled with no driver or other passengers, in the middle of a glacier, whilst both Dr D and the Magic try unsuccessfully to chase after
2) Me almost killing Dr D by overturning our snowmobile
3) £80 worth of pizzas
4) The taste of seal
5) The Island

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First 24 Hours in Oslo
We've now been in Oslo for about 24 hours, and after lots of walking, taking photos, playing in snow, trying to avoid being eaten by the worlds largest dogs, we're all sitting here in one of our rooms, frankly, knackered, feet up, drinking beers, and watching "Loser" on norweigan telly. Incidentaly, our room is possibly the most nerd injected room in all of Oslo with:

1. 3 laptops
   
2. 6 digital cameras
   
3. 1 digital SLR
   
4. 1 old fun time SLR
   
5. USB2 Cards
   
6. Network Cards
   
7. 3 USB keyfob/drive/thingy (Magic says keyfob, Dr D says key drive, and I say "thingy")
   

Hell YEAH!

Our first 24 hours has not been nearly as cold as I expected it to be. It's probably about 3 degrees outside, and compared to what it's going to be like in Svaldbard, that's practically t-shirts and shorts weather!

I have to say, Oslo, and probably Norway, is the most expensive place on this god given earth. Last night we went out to dinner, to what has been described in the guide books as "moderately priced". Norways "moderately priced" is equivalent to the rest of the world's "sweet mother of god, I need to get a second mortgage to pay for this meal of bread and tap water". When the Mag and I decided to have a bottle of wine with dinner, the waitress suggested a £38.90 bottle of red. And that was one of the cheapest ones going! Today, I inadvertedly spent 5 POUNDS on a tiny, tiny, tiny travel size bottle of hair mousse. It's scarey when you're in a country where you need a bank roll to buy a burger. Or where you can take out almost £600 from a cash machine in one transaction...

Anyway, here are a couple of pics from today, including Dr D constantly falling over in the snow.. I'm not sure we're going out tonight. It's actually insanely fun drinking tinnies, watching tele, and chatting. (Though Dr D is not really talking to us, and is spending all night "playing" (aka cheating) at Championship Manager. And asking me if I'm "blogging shit".

Oh yes I am Dr D.

BTW: I've just had the most nerd fulfilling experience in my life. I've just OUTNERDED The Magic, a doctor in particle physics (there are 2 of them in this room right now (thus upping our nerd factor to stratospheric levels)), when he saw me using on GVim. He didn't even know that you can use VI on Windows! How cool is that..

Svalbard Weather Watch

Ok, I'll admit it. Despite the fact that

1. I've paid close to £500 in hard weather gear for this trip to Svalbard
2. Distressingly, I've realised that despite the years of coca-cola propaganda, polar bears are in fact not our friends
3. I could die in a horrid plane accident when our 2 stroke, probably made of MDF, light aircraft tries to land on, what can essentially be called an ice rink

I am getting pretty damn excited about this trip.

So, I'm going to keep you updated, for the next 3 days, of the temperature in Svalbard, to appreciate the slight apprehension I'm feeling as a soft southern Sydney girl, going as far north as a girl should go:

Temperature at 6am this morning (with windchill) : -30C
Current Temparture in Longyearbyen : -9.6C
Current Temparture in Longyearbyen (with windchill) : -21.1C

-21.1C!!!! In Sydney, if it dips below 10C people start going worrying about the ensuing cold snap, destined to take down the city and start wearing thermals underwear and long johns.. This is going to be weird.

Sunset Appreciation

Here's something for Mayren's Sunset Appreciation post - a stormy sky taken on our Roadtrip, between El Paso and the Grand Canyon through the US a few years ago....

All these pics were taken from the middle "captains chair" seats on our Dodge Grand Caravan - hurtling down freeways at hundreds of k's per hour.. or whatever the speed limit was...

Easiest way to make a man come running

1. Walk past the man's bedroom, muttering slightly
   
2. Walk past again, this time holding a tool box - this obviously makes him prick his ears.
   
3. Open tool box, spilling some of the screwdrivers on the floor - this is to pique his interest and make him knit his eyebrows together a little.
   
4. Walk into the bathroom, screwdriver in hand - he's getting more interested/nervous
   
5. Start unscrewing the piece of wood behind the toilet, to get to the toilet cistern - his head pops out the door. At this point, he will ask "do you need a hand?", to which you have to look around, smile and say "no thanks!"
   
6. Put the 'blue loo' cleaning block in cistern, then start screwing the wood back into place. When inevitably, it does not end up quite flush against the wall, say loudly "oh damnit, that's not supposed to go like that" - this makes the man ask his brother, who is on a call from Australia, to hold on a minute.
   
7. Go back to the hall, take out hammer from the toolbox, then start hitting the wood, to try and get it back in place.
   

This is my sure fire, never fail, guaranteed way to make the man (aka The Flatmate) throw the phone down on his international call, run out the door, down the hall, into the bathroom, saying "Um, ok, are you sure you don't need some help? Don't need me to come to the rescue then?"

Hmmm, and I'm supposed to be owning a house soon? Now I'm not sure that's the best idea is it...

Brussels Trip Roundup

After 3 days, and averaging about 4 hours sleep a night, we've gotten back from my spiritual home of Brussels. I really love it there, and would move back in an instant if I had the oppurtunity.

Will blog the trip, but here is the slideshow of some pics from the weekend, which you can also see here. I'm trying out different things on my digital SLR, for my next trip, in 3 days time, to Norway!

Makes you want to smash your head repeatedly against a wall

AAARRGGHH.

After 5 freaking months, I am still not the owner of my god damned flat.

I was expecting to be able to exchange early this week, but lo and behold, it's Thursday and still no joy. My solicitor called me today to say that as far as they were concerned they have all the necessary paperwork, and asked for which dates I would like to complete on (i.e. which day do I want to get the keys to my first flat). After much deliberation and thought, I replied back with "I want the keys yesterday or sooner". So I call the estate agent, a sleazy little man, who if I ever hear his voice or see him from now until the end of time, it will be too soon, to tell him that I want my house now, and to this he says:

"Well, because this whole process has taken so long, it seems that the vendors original mortgage offer has fallen through, so he is in the process of getting a new one approved. We don't think it will take too long, and hopefully he will not need another survey done. This will obviously put a delay on completion."

FUCKING WANKING BASTARD HELL

I am not the very soul of a good human as I am fuming, angry, and want everyone involved with this house sale to get into a car, cover themselves with petrol, light a match, and drive off a cliff.

So when I tell the estate agent that I can't believe that this is happening, and that the sale of this house is going to fall through, he says in his sleazy, disgusting little way:

"Don't get stressed. Go and drink some camomile tea or something". - No, why don't you go and shove your camomile tea up your arse you nonce.

I am not impressed. I am now waiting to see if the vendor his gets his new mortgage offer, and am now planning on moving to my new place, ooh, I dunno, March, 2008. I wouldn't want to be too optimistic about the date now would I?

On the vaguest of vague plus sides, I'm off to Brussels tonight, which is my spiritual home, for the weekend, so I won't be back until Monday. I'm sure I'll have lots of pics of us eating gaffres and chocolate. To the minus side, my stomach is still going crazy, so right after I eat the gaffre and chocolate, I'll probably need to go run for a loo to not injest calories again. Damn damn damn.

No more feelings of rejection

It's finally got me. On my birthday, after too much fondue, meat, cheese and chocolate variety, the gastro bug that's taken everyone down got me too. Whilst it is annoying throwing up everything you've eaten, I've taken the pragmatic approach of thinking "my female friends will be proud of me.. at least I'm not injesting any calories".

Unfortunately it wasn't so bad that I couldn't go whoreing myself (AKA doing a presales demo/meeting/training) at a large financial institution at Canary Wharf , but I was sick enough to go home halfway through the day yesterday and stay at home today.

The thing about being home from work is that I always end up padding about the house, unshowered and in my pj's... lying on the couch, feeling sorry for myself, and smelling slightly ripe... The good thing about having a stomach bug is that I have absolutely no appetite, because everytime I eat, my belly feels like it's full of little dwarfs, doing summersaults, with little shoes that have spikes in them.

So today, I've watched the 1940's Noel Coward classic "Brief Encounter", which is a terrific example of stoic british angst at it's finest. Lots of long looks, sighs, fainting spells and "oh darling, don't look at me like that, it's awfully shamefull what we're doing. One must keep one's composure". The Flatmate as less than impressed with the whole film. And now I'm off to show my xbox some love, since it's sulking because I've not paid it any attention today. The Flatmate is off to have lunch, because he says there is a funny smell here... maybe I'd better shower first... hmmm

On this day..

1. 1473 - Nicolaus Copernicus, famous astronomer, whose at the time controversial theory called "De revolutionibus orbium coelestium" is percieved as the starting point of modern astronomy, was born on this day
2. 1985 - EastEnders is first aired on the BBC! (You can see my new and old house on the map in the start of the show). I love a show which can make you think "no matter how bad I think my life is, at least I'm not pregnant and still in love with the man who I am having an affair with, who doesn't want to have an affair with me, but is only doing it because his wife wants to buy my child".
3. 1861 - Serfdom was abolished in Russia
4. 2007 - It's my birthday, and I am now "officially" in my "late 20s". 28 was my mid-late 20s. Undeniable, 29 is my late-late 20s.

As it's my birthday, and to honour my german ancestry, to celebrate chinese new year, and because it's the last day of my "Birthday Season", we went to Kurz & Lang for a german pork sausages and sauerkraut for lunch. Tonight, a few of us are off to a Swiss fondue restaurant, where The Flatmate will try not to be sick, since he reckons he's now been hit with the gastro bug that's making the rounds of our group.

Present wise I have done exceptionally well. Dr D got me a DIY book, my friend Pop, who has amazing taste in fashion, gave me a cool pair of earings that appeal to my catholic side by having what looks like bits of rosary beads dangling from them ! Lee got me a cool book chocka full of American Diner recipes. My friend, Campbelly got me a champagne recorker so that I can safely induldge in Champagne Thursdays without feeling the need to neck the whole bottle in one go. And finally The Flatmate, C, Calv, Magic and Dr D gave me an XBox 360!! WOW!! I can now play Halo, which I love, as well as Gears of War, which is just plain frightening!

I also got these beautiful roses from my mum.

On Saturday night, C and I had a lovely dinner at a local pub, which 20 of our closest friends came to. On the way back to our place, for the inevitable party, I walked everyone past the soon-to-be-mine flat, where we all stood outside freaked out the vendor... Why having 15 or so people standing outside their flat, pointing and going "oooh" and "so when do they move out?" would freak someone out is anyones guess. They didn't look too happy looking out of their windows, desperately trying to call the cops...

And yes, if you're wondering, the inevitable party did end at 4 am when we sang our voices dry with some awful/awsome Singstar.... A really serendipitous finding that night was that I own all the ingredients needed to make some kick arse cosmopolitans, which Lee, Pop and I drank by the huge red wine glass full.. no wonder I didn't surface from my room until 1 in the afternoon!

All in all, it's been a pretty good birthday season. I'm not too worried about getting older.. though I'm sure that's going to change soon. But right this very minute, I will own a house soon, I'm going to Brussels for the weekend, then I'm off to Svaldbard and China in a few weeks, so at this moment in time, life is pretty damn tasty!

Your Friday Moment of Zen: Hats made of seals are bad

For some insane reason, The Flatmate, Calv, Magic, Dr D and myself are all off on holiday in a few weeks time to Svalbard. Officially a part of Norway, it is Europe's northernmost territory, and is way inside the Arctic circle, being about 1000 km from the North Pole. In fact, I think it's as far north as you can get before they slap the title "explorer" on you. The whole territory has only 5 towns, the smallest one having a grand population of 10 people and the "capital" having a population of 1,800... My last job employed more people than that!



The fact that there will be no sun for the whole time we're there means we will hopefully see the Aurora borealis, which I think is the main reason for us going... The fact that the average temperature is about -12C, which goes down to about -30C with windchill, is not the thing that's freaking me out the most... It's the fact that for years now I've always thought of polar bears as cute and cuddly animals, who drink bottles of coke, nuzzle their young, are romantic to their partners, and love to give humans hugs. However, the 500 or so white cutie pies which are on the territory are the biggest threat to people, and if one tries to attack you, you are advised to keep shooting it until it stops. Killed by lead poisoning. Thus, you are told to never leave a settlement without carrying a rifle.

Which you can hire.

Without the need of a license or even the knowledge of how to use one....

So in honour of this new found polar bear fear, this is my Friday Moment of Zen: Of all the freezing, north pole equipped, fuck off hard core weather gear I will be wearing in Svaldbard, not one item will be a hat, shaped like a seal.

Enjoy!

Posts, posts, posts

I've been uber slack for the last week, but I do actually have a ligitimate excuse: that stupid monkey called "work" has been on my back for the last week, so I've not had much of chance to write things up. But hopefully these 4 posts will make up for a week of bludging (well blog bludging..)

Yours in slackness,
I

Infatuated again

I wrote a couple of months ago about a horrendous crush I'd developed on Superman (yes, you read right. Not much of a mind blowing announcement: "Geek girl fancies comic book hero. "). Oh god, how pathetic).

However, the revolving door of fictional men I get crushes on seems to have stopped right firmly at the door of Jane Eyre's Mr Rochester.

This is of course helped by the fact that he's recently been played with Toby Stephen's in the BBC production, which is just amazing. After watching the BBC production, I was in the throes of the 19th century novel, and I have to say, I don't know where this novel has been all my life! And on top of that, I can't get over it was written by a Bronte, considering how I can't even count the ways in which I loathe and despise Emily Bronte and her pathetic book "Wuthering Heights" (for god's sake Catherine and Heathcliff. Get a god damn fucking room, or go get lost on the moors until collapse of starvation and wild dogs eat you).

Mr Rochester though. God damn. Whilst it's sad for someone my age to lust after a fictional character, especially the youngest son of a wealthy man who ends up (LOOK AWAY IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO SPOIL IT) locking his wife away in a tower and becomes a brooding, angry, depressed, hollow shell of a man. But there you go. It's too late. He's long "dead" and I think he's great.

Finally! Finally!!!!!

After 5 months, and 17 agonising days, I have finally been told by my lawyers that they might have all the necessary paper work, so I could possibly exchange contracts for my new house next Monday, which just happens to be my BIRTHDAY!

I refuse to let myself get excited, and start thinking things like appliances, light fittings, curtains, and removalists, until they can guarantee that I will have the keys of my flat in my hot litte greedy hands.

OH MY GOD! I MIGHT ACTUALLY EXCHANGE ON MY FIRST FLAT! How fabulous is that!

Ok calm down. I will not allow myself to get excited about this, because the feeling of elation when I've been told that there is only 1 thing left to get, followed by the absolute dismal feeling of being let down when I'm told something else hasn't come through yet has left a horrid taste in my mouth, so I refuse to let myself get disappointed again.

Still, I just can't stop myself from being excited! Watch this space, because I am going to INUNDATE this blog with the crappy things I want to fill my house with. Starting with this cool, cool, cool retro lamp (at the insane price of £1,980):



It sucks to be me... so many beautiful things, so little money...

Night of firsts

Going out with people from work usually means that our group from the office end up in a pub 2 minutes from our desks. It also means that I always end up getting the tube or a taxi with either Dr D or Calv (cause they live very close to my house). However this time, Calv was too sick to go out, and Dr D was just getting over being sick (both boys had a horrendous case of gastro, which I was practially willing myself to get... it's pretty pathetic when you want gastrointeritous just so you can feel a bit thinner, and that you actually feel the sting of rejection when a stomach bug refuses to not infect you and leave you lying on the tiles of your bathroom floor... ). So at about 9pm Dr D left the pub and me, for me to make my own way home...

So tonight was definitely a night of firsts. The first time I went out with work people on my own (how wierd is that?). The first time I ended up in KFC on my own, eating my dinner at a table in the corner by my lonesome (hey, love me, love my KFC!).. and for some reason I kindof saw my future - a sad image of myself, staring back at me in the flourecent lit reflection of the door. A sad woman, siting alone, slightly pissed, nibbling on chicken wings...

And thinking about it now, I'm not too sure how I feel about that....

Happy Birthday C!

It's C's 29th birthday today (6 days before mine) so this post goes out to you:


C is very much into 1940's looks (hair, dancing and dress), so I have been trying to find a picture of a cheesecake girl that she might like. The only problem with this is that it means that I need to type the words "pinup", "girl" and "cheesecake" into google, which obviously puts my work pc into worlds of problems. I'm seriously waiting for the internet police to come and take me away for looking up porn.... albeit 1940's porn...

So C, Happy Birthday! Hope you're having a good day :) Don't worry, we've still got 365 (372 if you're me) more days in our 20s...... It's possible it could go all downhill from there....

Oops: I forgot to mention that I found this picture here

Mayren as an M&M

In the new "You as an M&M" exhibition, here's Mayren (of Mayren Abashed fame) in M&M form! Nice hair & bear combo!

Remember, if you'd like to take part, go to becomeanmm.com and sculpt yourself out of a piece of virtual candy, send it to me, and I'll post it!

C as an M&M

I'm going to blog anyone who has made an M&M person of themselves. If you want to send it to me, then let me know and I'll send you my email address.

This is C. She said she think she looks rubbish, but I reckon she looks hot! Look at those shoes!

Remember, if you want to be an M&M person, check this out!

Snow in London

Today it snowed for the second time this year! As an Aussie girl, even after almost 6 years in London, I am still excited everytime I see the snow, even if it is only about 2 cm deep and has all melted by midday. At lunch today, I found all the swept clumps of snow, and jumped up and down in them like a 5 year old. I'm never going to grow tired of that!

Check out my slideshow here

Me in M&M form

Clearly whilst being very busy at work, I stumbled across this from those crazy kids at M&M.

Try it, it's fantastic fun!

For The Flatmate

Whilst watching an episode of 'Friends', Ross' g/f comes in and finds them playing Strip Happy Days, and goes "Ok, I'll catch up" and takes her top off.

The Flatmate: "Damnit! I came in late, and only saw the end of that!"
Me: "Damnit! If only we had a tivo box of some type which was recording what we were watching!"
The Flatmate: "Damnit! And if only that tivo box meant I could rewind and see her in her bra!"
Me: "Well why don't you then?"
The Flatmate: "Well, I would, but if I did, you'd blog it."


The Flatmate - you're so damn right.

Screaming my rebel yell

Since Friday night, roughly 60 hours ago, this is the sum total of all I've eaten:

• Approx 2 dozen pieces of chicken wings. All with hot sauce.
• 2 servings of fries
• 2 x 1/4 massive serving of nachos
• 1/2 a family size bag of corn chips
• 1 whole rack of baby back ribs, fries, and 'slaw
• 1 serve Chinese noodles
• 6 pints of beer (I think...)
• Too many bottles of beer to count
• Cocktails - including shots (too many to count + don't actually remember how many I had bought for me)

A truley mature, healthy and varied diet huh?

This is how the blame is being organised for this weekend of glut:

1. Beer/shots/beer/shoots/first serve of chicken wings: Going out on Friday night after my ex-ex boyfriend told me he was definitely moving to Ireland to be with his g/f, even though he told me he would never leave Australia when I moved to London. I needed all the extra beer and shots to help me fuel me for the inevitable drink and dial I ended up doing...
   
2. 1/2 family size bag of corn chips: Being horrendously hung over on Saturday morning, dragging my sorry arse onto the couch, and finding a pack of Doritos on the table. I had to substitute my coke/corn chip cure for just corn chips and water to try and feel human enough to go to orchestra...
   
3. Beer/Fries/Ribs + fries + slaw/cocktails: Hair of the dog + we were going out for dinner anyway... AND I can't go to Bodeans and not have ribs.. That would just be plain wrong.
   
4. The Beer+Wings+Nachos Blowout: Superbowl Sunday and watching the Chicago Bears bend over and receive a spanking from the Colts.
   

In fact, this whole weekend has just been one big be as naughty as I can possibly be weekend.

Firstly: The ex-ex: I believe that all phones should have the "Don't Make An Arse Of Yourself" feature, where it recognises when you're drunk and if you call a number you KNOW you shouldn't, either blocks said number from being dialed, or at the very least gives you a recorded message with something like "if you make this phone call, you know you will end up waking up tomorrow, realising that you've made a complete tit of yourself, and end up wishing you were dead, because frankly, your now in your late 20's and you're still acting like a fucking teenager".

Damn you Drink+Dial. I don't really remember what I said but I'm sure it contained the words "why didn't you move for me? What the fuck was wrong with me?" and "you bastard", even though I know that this is not this guys fault, and it was like 1000 years ago for fuck sake, and given the choice, I wouldn't have changed a single thing, because we both know it all worked out for the best anyway.

Secondly: C and I bunked off 3rd period musicianship class at orchestra this Saturday, because 1) we couldn't stand listening to Viola Woman drone on and on about crap that has nothing to do with the class, 2) the sun was actually shining, and we wanted to sit and bask in it's cancer omitting rays. I've never bunked off class in high school, and I felt like such a rebel. I was practically Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club (though obviously without the being a boy and smoking dope bit).

Thirdly: HOW MUCH JUNK HAVE I EATEN THIS WEEKEND? I can't add up all those calories because I don't believe numbers can get that big. The Superbowl has the most to answer to for my poor diet. Despite the fact that I know nothing American football, I happily used Superbowl Sunday as my excuse for staying up until 3.30 am on a school night, help demolish 2 massive Pyrex serving dishes of nachos + guacamole, drink copious amounts of beer, and gorge myself on delicious spicy, buffalo chicken wings. The Flatmate and I went to Dr K's and Calv's house last night, where they cheered the colts, and I of course cheered on the Bears.. who lost. Typical. Calv and his friend Mappy were supposed to do a podcast for their website, which I was going to special guest star on, so on Sunday morning, (with another hangover), I boned up on my Superbowl knowledge. I was desperate to say on the podcast how I believed that "Chicago would take a very similar approach to what they did in the NFC Championship game against the Saints, and play a very physical game." And how I thought that "The Bears would try and get as many hits on Manning as they could, whilst their corners would do all they could within the rules to manhandle the Colts receivers and throw off the timing of their passing game." However we never recorded the podcast, and around 2 am, I kept falling asleep, waking up, eating some more chicken, taking a slug of beer, then fall asleep again.

Ok, this week I'm going to be uber virtuous and v angelic. I'm going running and cycling, eating only salads, fish and low fat soups.

OOOHH, someone at work just gave me a caramel egg... Ok right after this I'm going to good.

Who am I kidding, I just can't do virtuous and angelic.. I'd best just go buy myself some eatin' pants.

In Loving Memory

There will be no Friday Moment of Zen this week for 2 reasons:

1) I wanted to talk about the gorgefest that Sunday night will be thanks to the Superbowl. I don't even watch american football, but any excuse to eat nachos, buffalo wings, ribs, and guzzle bottles of beer is ok with me (I'm so classy!). And whilst I do have a full post about Gorgefest Sunday Superbowl, I can not find any pictures of chicken wings that do them justice.

2) Today's entry will be in loving memory of The Flatmates Nintendo Wii.

Which I apparently bricked by sending him an email.

Oh yes, that's right. The Flatmate's Wii, which we got him for Christmas, and which you can not now buy for love or money is bricked. Dead. Fucked. Gone. Bye bye.

Apparently by sending him an email which has loads of html tags in it (who knew that a Eurostar itinerary could so lethal?), I've managed to kill his Wii. It starts up, begins to play the Wii music, then boom. Dead. It just stops working. He's been on the phone with Nintendo customer support, and they've never seen this before, so he's now had to send it back the very same day he bought a brand new controller so we could play 3 player Mario Carts.

Oops.

So to help stop him from topping himself, we took him out last night to get a bit pissed. And in loving memory of the games console that everyone wants, but no one can get, I'm missing out on the Friday Moment of Zen, because for him, there can no longer be zen like state of being.

Embarrassing Kareoke Flashbacks

I've just had the most embarrasing flashback of me standing in my living room, mic in hand, singing my guts out to Belinda Carlise's "Heaven is a place on earth":

"OOOH baby do you know what that's worth?
OOOH heaven is a place on earth
They say in heaven, love comes first
OOOH heaven is a place on earth
You make heaven a place on earth...."

Oh dear.... I thought it was a bit wierd that I seemed to know all the words.....

So here I sit at my desk, blushing slightly, starting off quietly singing, though gradually getting louder and louder, until people start throwing things at me to try and stop the music: "you know we're just beginning, to understand the miracle of living, I know I was scared before, but I'm not AFRAID ANYMORE!!! OOOH BABY DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT'S WORTH? OOOH HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH!"

I know no shame.

The mother of all parties

We had our 6th Annual Australia Day (now with added Witangi Day) BBQ party on Saturday night for possibly the last time ever. What with The Flatmate moving back to Oz, and me moving into my new apartment, both of us are leaving our current mother of all parties house for much more sensible, grown up, less teenage abodes. Our flat does seriously rock when it comes to throwing a damn fine knees up mother brown shindig, as we seem to be able to make as much noise as we like, make as much smoke as we like from numerous bbq's on the balconies, party on until 7am, play singstar and screech so loud you could hear it about 1/2 a mile away (apparently), and we still know no fear of our neighbours complaining or calling the cops. We think this mostly has to do with the fact that our neighbours aren't legally allowed to live in their "flat" because it's zoned to be an office, and not as a house, and since we hate them, we really don't care. (Childish? Oh yes, absolutely).

As it was a bbq, I prepared all the food on Friday night before going out, so we had tandoori lamb, pork tocino, big fat chorizo sausages and adobo chicken. I figured everyone else would bring all the standard fair of bangers and vege crap anyway. And as it was a celebration of all things antipodean, I made a pavlova (well, two in fact because I started to make it after I had a few drinks and then my friend C and I got the temperatures wrong, and baked it at 250C not 250F... we only noticed it's blackened charcoal like texture when the fire alarm went off... ooh masterchef, eat your heart out!). My friend from Oz C made some delicious Anzac biscuits, and a mate P made lamingtons. It's amazing when you immigrate to another country how it's the little things like snack foods and deserts, which you can get freely in your home country, but after years way, are the ones that make the biggest impact on you.. each bite of a lamington or an anzac brings back feelings of nostalgia for backyard swimming pools, scorching summers in December, cicadas, and friends and family... The humble pavlova is enough to make grown antipodean men weep (and grown antipodean women quake with fear of demolishing the whole cream laden thing and growing sideways...).


This years Aussie day bbq was definitely one of our most successful ones to date. Starting at 6pm, it ended with the last few scragglers leaving our house to a rising sun at 7am.. Loads of drinks, food, and of course the obligatory singstar all made their mark over the 13 hours of parting down.. If it seems that singstar is all we do at our shindigs, well... you'd be damn right. I now seem to own every single one of those damn kareoke playstation games, and they are so fucking addictive! There is nothing more fantastic than watching your friends try to battle it out and out sing each other on cheesy classics like "Gold" by Spandau Ballet, "Little Respect" by Erasure (DAMN YOU MAGIC! He beat me by only a tiny fraction.. i swear that man practices!), and my person favorite "Sweet Home Alabama" (yeehaw!). One of our directors from work came with his wife, and at 5 am, after we'd turned the playstation off, jumped up, mic in hand and said "COME ON GUYS! We have to crank it up! Let's start singing!!". You have to understand, we only started up again because he's the boss, and not because we're sados... Fuck it, I don't care, I'm not proud. I love singstar. What I love about is that it's the people who come over and think that it's going to be really sad and pathetic are always the ones that end up releasing their secret rock god, complete with Pete Townsend style windmilling, finishing songs with a rock and roll arm in the air, head held high, score way down low... it's so much fun!

My top 5 for this year's party is:

1. None of our furniture caught on fire (unlike one year, when ignited absinthe spilled out all over our coffee table!)
2. Everyone who threw up did it either outside or in the toilet (unlike last year.. very very messy... )
   
3. There are reports of people not recovering until 5pm Sunday night
   
4. I didn't pass out, wake up at 5 in my bed, still in my clothes, and think "oh, the party's over! And everyones gone home!"
5. Dr K, who is one of the worst singers alive, who still loves doing it anyway, decided to trash talk one of the girls from work, who was so excited about singstar.. As she warbled away, he yelled out "Come on! Try and sing at least one note!", to which she turned around, screamed "I'm trying my best!" and then threw the mic straight at his head... That really makes me giggle!
   

I'll post some pictures tomorrow, some of which are priceless... Least of which is one of our friends in the "sex hat" (a leather biggles hat someone brought to our place years ago, but which neither the Flatmate or myself can come around to touching to give it back to them, because it really, really, really does look like a gimp mask...), my "high maintenance mask" and pavlova all over his face...

Ah, what a fantastic way to celebrate Australia Day...

Your Friday Moment of Zen: Happy Australia Day....

Well it's Australia Day today, or if you're aboriginal it's "Invasion Day", when white settlers came to decimate your people, destroy your culture, and kill your homeland.

Anyway, since it's Australia Day, and I'm a wee bit homesick, I was trying to find all things aussie related on YouTube.. then I stumbled across this... It's cheesy badness makes it very, very amusing, and for some reason this kid's done a video of the crappy suburb that I come from, Cherrybrook (why is there a wiki page on Cherrybrook??? I really don't understand). If you do watch this, I live just down the road from the roundabout near the shopping centre... I actually think this kids backyard is right near my house.....

If this is not your cup of tea, then I've included this one below, which is a) a timelapse video of sydney b) a shamless advertisment for some guys website.



Just one last thing, I do not actually know the kid who made the cheesy doco, but I do sincerely appologise for his mispronounciation of Nova Scotia... I'm cringing all the way from London.

Friday Moment of Zen: All things aussie and cheesy bad.

Barely Breathing

Some things should come with health warnings: cigarettes, alcohol, intravenous drugs, the Amelie soundtrack.

I've been listening to this for about a week non stop at work. I love Amélie (où <<Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain>>) the movie, MAIS la musique du film... Mon dieu!

Composed by Yann Tiersen, it is a great and quirky soundtrack, with haunting piano solos and very Gallic sounding, 1930's pieces, that work amazingly well with the film to help conjure up the dreamlike world of the main character, and I really do love every single track on the album.. But what I don't understand is how people can review this soundtrack as making them feel good, because all I feel is a sadness so thick that I can barely conjure up the energy to breath, and all I want to do is disappear to Paris for months on end, drinking café's and be by myself.

And here I go, hitting the play button again. Sigh.

Your Friday Moment of Zen: Small Retraction

I blogged the other day that I accidentally picked up a pair of Calv's boxers that were on his desk. Well, I've gotten no end of bitching from him about this, so I am retracting this blog by stating:

1. I picked up shorts because apparently they are not in fact boxers
   and
   
2. He does not have cooties.
   

So to apologise for the fact that his mother called him up and said "why are there things on the Internet about your underpants? What have you been doing?", I've decided to put up this MasterCard advertisement with some dude who plays American football which Calv has been hassling me to post for months now.

Your Friday Moment of Zen: D-Caff.

I dunno, I've had it explained, and while I do get it, I'm not laughing my arse off.

Enjoy!

I didn't fucking buy it on Ebay

I'm just a little annoyed.

I used to like ebay. I, however, have just had one of those annoying ebay experiences, where I've spent all fucking week waiting to bid on particular item. I'd go to ebay every damned day to check if anyone had put a bid on. Then, tonight, as the auction was ending, I very, very, very, paitently waited, much like a guerilla in the jungle waiting for the kill, for the last possible second to bid for my item, constantly refreshing the god damned screen, glowing with the belief that I'd actually won the stupid thing, only get outbid 8 fucking seconds before the fucking auction fucking ends.

Fuck fuck fuck.

So to you Miss Bitch Whore SwissBlahBlah or whatever the fuck your called, I hope you like that god damn fucking book. And I want you to know that because of you orphans will cry. Angels will weep. And it's very likely that puppies, kittens & rabbits will get kicked all shades of blue.

Thanks a fucking lot. Stupid crappy ebay.

Party Games in the Office

Helpful tip: What they don't tell you in the "How-to"'s: if you're going to do party levitation in the office, don't scream when they lift you 2 cm off the floor.

We did this in the office this week, (why? honestly because we can) and since the only other girl in the office point blank refused to do this, I let myself be the levitatee (is that even a word?). The only thing was that the idea of having nerd boys (none of whom leave their boxers in the office) touch me under my knees and armpits made me squeemish, so we decided to just picked the chair up, with me obviously still sitting on it.

I was all up for it, until they decided that there should be a 5th person to stand behind the chair, just in case the whole thing tipped over, and I cracked my skull on the radiator behind me. Only then did I think "what the hell am I doing?". When they started to levitate me and I was literally about 2 cms off the floor, I screamed like the girl I am, they dropped me, and refused to do it again, in case one of our directors came running around the corner to see who'd been killed.

I really want to do it again, but I think I've missed my one and only non-drunk oppurtunity to try this.

Does anyone else do random things like this in their office?

Deadly Flannel

Me, walking past Calv's desk at work, spot a flannel shirt, very similar to one I loved when I was in high school (hey! I know what you're thinking, but in the early 90's flannel rocked. Just watch reruns of "Party of 5". That dude from Lost isn't so cool now is he).

Me: "Oh look, I used to own a flannel shirt just like this" (pick up "shirt")

Me: "OH MY GOD, IT'S NOT HIS SHIRT, IT'S HIS BOXERS!!! EEEEK"

Me: Run to the bathroom to wash of the boy germs of my hands, because those boxers have been under his desk for the last 4 years, and I don't want to catch cooties.

Friday Moment of Zen: Champagne Thursdays + Vomit Fridays + German Country & Western Music = Me Being Almost Human Again

I am horrendously hung over today. I love everything about Champagne Thursdays, except for the inevitable Head Pounding, Neck Throbbing, Holding Vomit Back, Hangover Fridays.

I'm not convinced that I am feeling like shit today because of the whole bottle of rose I guzzled with dinner, or the numerous bottles of champagne a bunch of us shared last night (going out with nerds who work for big investments banks is great when you're a nerd girl, for we are indeed a very rare breed, and they always buy drinks. I'm not proud.). I actually think I feel and look like shit today because of the sneaky cigarette I bummed of a guy at the bar, or possibly the 5 lamb chops I had for dinner.....

So, to nurse my "hangover" this morning, I've had:

• 1 carton orange juice
  
• 1 skim milk cappacino
  
• 1 egg, ham and hollandaise sauce muffin from Benugos (to counteract the low fatness of the skim milk)
  
• 1 paracetamol (because I'm conceeding that I am in fact getting old, and it's possible I might start needing drugs to help my alchohol abuse. Actually I must be maturing a little because I normally start my road to recovery by having a can of coke and a packet of cheese doritos at 9am. Hmm. fruit juice and paracetamol... how novel).
  

However, the thing that is really making me feel better this morning is listening to that crazy "german" band Texas Lightning (I say "german" because I think they are actually from Newscastle, NSW, however they were the german entry for Eurovision last year so go figure). Now don't get me wrong, I am not a country and western music gal (despite loving tunes like "Sweet Home Alabama") but this seriously infectious song is just the dogs bollocks when it comes to fun. Listen to it, I dare you not to smile.

So my Friday Moment of Zen this week is my cure for Champagne Thursdays: Wierd Arse German Country & Western Music. Enjoy!


Update As of 4pm, I've also had: 1 large pepperoni & chilli pizza, and a chunky peanut butter bar + I'm going out for dinner tonight, so soon I'll won't be able to leave my house because i can't fit through the door, and I'll have to wash myself with a rag on a stick.

2007: Year of the Sweet and Sour Pig

According to Chinese Astrology, 2007 is The Year of The Pig, and to celebrate, China Post have issued a new stamp with a twist to celebrate the New Year.

How brilliant are these stamps! Not content with them being dead cute, what with the little piggy pulling it's mum's tail, the designers have added a really bizare twist by making them scratch and sniff stamps that smell like sweet and sour pork AND that taste like sweet and sour pork when you lick them. I'm not sure if that would beat the taste of stamp glue, but I'd be willing to give it a try.

What with 2008 being the Year of the Rat, hopefully China Post won't come out with a limited edition garbage flavoured stamps with pictures of mother rats eating their young. That wouldn't be nearly as cute.

Odds and Betting

I've just come back from watching Arsenal beat Liverpool 6 goals to 3 in the Carling Cup at Anfield. The odds on that must have been massive!

Then, on the walk home, The Flatmate and I found a tennis ball we started kicking about. Near our house is a huge Boots warehouse where late at night big semi trailers come to drop off goods. As we were walking along, we saw a semi trailer coming towards us, so I kicked the tennis ball to the curb, so to avoid it being run over by the truck. What are the odds that the semi trailer not only aims directly for the curb, running over a tiny tennis ball and squashing it flat, but also then reverses to have another 3 goes at it with all the wheels on one side?

Pretty slim of you ask me.

So with this renewed sense of strange odds in the air I'm going to jump onto the Betfair website, and find the biggest odds I can find, and blow some of my soon to be mortgaged to the hilt money on it. Not alot, just a bit. I reckon that tonight's the night kids. Mama needs a brand new washing machine. Come on lady luck. Bring home the bacon.

Update 12.04 am: I've just placed £2 on the Diamond Halo (come on! with a name like that how is that not a sign??!?) to win at £26-1 at Penn, Race 2. It's not the £1000 bet I was looking for, but a girl's gotta start somewhere. If this one doesn't win, then I will go to bed, and sleep. If it does though... oh la la. I might just keep on going until I lose.... stay tuned for my slippery downhill slope towards Gamblers Anonymous!

Update: 12.13am: Well, I'm off to bed then. Nice early night for once. Stupid fucking horse. Hope it's on it's way to make some hefty glue.

Painful Wii

All of us bought The Flatmate a Nintendo Wii for Christmas, which he loves. If you don't know, the Ninetndo Wii have take gaming to a completely different level, and instead of just having a hand held controller which you press buttons on, you play by holding a controller and doing proper movements. So you would play the bowling game as if you were actually bowling, baseball as if you were actually hitting a ball, you get my drift.

Annoyingly of course, because he plays it all the time, he is getting too good for me to even compete against. So tonight, all beered up, I feel for the first time in ages that I could actually beat him at tennis, a feat I've managed to get close to, but never of course actually doing. So watching him, all excited like a child on Christmas, waiting for him to beat who ever he is playing, I stand there, anticipating the joy of victory that only booze can self delude someone into thinking they can achieve. And then he completely smashes my elbow and arm with his hand and Wii remote whilst he's trying to do an ace, leaving me to hobble down the stairs, cluthing my painful arm.

Stupid Flatmate, stupid Wii. Grr.. I hope he goes home soon.

Farewell Sweet Ramen, And Thanks

The inventor of the instant ramen noodle, Momofuku Ando, passed away on the 5th of January 2007 from a heart attack. Faced with food shortages after WWII in Japan, Ando
developed his idea for a quick, convenient noodle product to help feed them masses. And feed them, and me, he most certainly has.

The 2 minute noodle, more commonly known as the "Pot Noodle" or the "Slag of Snacks" in Britain, has interwoven itself in my life as long as I can remember:

It was the 2 minute noodle that, as a 9 year old left at home during school holidays to fend for myself, was one of the first thing I remember trying to cook. I remember standing in the kitchen, with a bowl of noodles in cold tap water, trying to work out why they wouldn't soften. I'd prod them for ages, then give up, until my mum came home, and taught me how they were done. Then she started to cook me proper food to have for lunch, rather than "rubbish junk".

It was also the 2 minute noodle that got me through my final years in high school. Not because I couldn't afford to eat anything else, but because I was too lazy to find anything with more nutritonal value. It was directly due to eating a pack of these practially every day, that I got chunky, and developed a lovely stomach ulcer, which in turn led to the downfall of my guilty love affair for this most sinful of snacks.

So in memoriam of the Momofuku, whose fantastic invention has saved starving people in post war Asia, not to mention thousands of university students, I decided to lay aside the stigma that goes with having 2 minute noodles, and brazenly made one for lunch today, to the looks of disgust from my fellow co-workers. And here is my recipe for the best, most moreish, most delicious ways of 2 minute noodles. Try it once, and you'll be hooked.

• 1 pack, 2 minute beef flavoured noodles (don't get excited about any other flavour. BSE giving beef is the best, though if you must, then don't blame me if you don't like it).
  
• cheese, grated
• tabasco sauce
• 1/2 lemon (well, I like 1/2 a lemon, but that's probably a bit much)
  

1. Break noodles in half, place lovingly and delicately in a china bowl. No plastic cups here thank you very much.
2. Pour freshly boiled water over the noodles, and cover the bowl with plate, to keep as much heat in as possible.
3. Whilst waiting, grate some cheese. Extra mature cheddar is good, though if feeling guilty about having noodles in the first place, the low-fat pre-grated, feels-like-plastic, never -seen-a-cow-in-it's-life, stuff works fine too.
   
4. Fidget around until the 2 minutes is up. Don't be fooled, this is the most important step! Make sure that the noodles do not stand in the hot water too long, or else they'll turn into a soggy mush, which you might as well throw away, because then they are no good to man nor beast. You want nice, still slightly firm noodles.
5. Strain all the water from the bowl, and replace with freshly boiled water, until the noodles are just covered.
6. Stir in flavour sachet.
   
7. Liberally shake, like a British Nanny, the tabasco sauce over the noodles. When you think you've put too much, add another shake.
   
8. Squeeze liberally with lemon juice
9. Mix noodles
10. Add grated cheese to the noodles before each delicious mouthful, so that the cheese is just melting as you eat them.

Oh my god. This is soo good. It's not haute cuisine, but then again I'm not french. And everyone has to have a guilty secret snack, that they know is no good for them, but they can't resist anyway. This and pork scratchings are definitely mine. What's yours?

I'm hungry again just thinking about this, and it's almost 1am. Hmmm.. I wonder if we have any in the kitchen..

Friday Moment of Zen: I don't like cricket

Oh no. Now, thanks to our true blue Aussie boys in green and gold, I LOVE IT!

We annihilated the English cricket team! We creamed them! No, cream isn't the right colour... It's paler than that... We WHITEWASHED THEM! That's right. We won the Ashes series 5-0, a feat that hasn't occurred since the 1920-21 series.

If you think I'm being a bad winner, that's not completely true. Being an Aussie girl in London, who is proud of her nation, I've had to endure the constant ribbing and name calling from my English friends for the last 18 months. And now sweet, sweet retribution has come baby! I've come into work wearing my Aussie football shirt, and my Aussie beanie. The green and gold my friend.

Whilst a more gratious person would politely and modestly praise her team, and honour the fight of the losing side, I am many things, neither of which is gracious or polite. So I say BOO-YA to the English team, and especially Andrew Flintoff, who I've hated since the last Ashes series due to his crowing and arrogance. Who's laughing now eh Freddie? Not you.

So your Friday moment of zen: You might not find this so zen like if you're English, but as an Aussie, this is sweet.

New Years Resolutions

1. Start to try to be a morally better person
Clearly, have already begun the year with a flying start after returning the 50p that I underpaid our local Benugo for my egg/ham/hollandaise sauce muffin. The manager looked surprised and said "wow thanks, how honest of you". Am still trying to repress the feeling of annoyance that he didn't give me a free coffee for my honesty, because I'm sure that's not in the spirit of the whole "morally better person" thing.

Also, have tried to return a lovely white pashmina I found after our work Christmas party to a guy at work, which I thought might have belonged to his girlfriend.

2. Wash clothes on a more regular basis
Leaving clothes to "air clean" for a day to remove smell of cigarette smoke after finding them strewn around my room should not be something someone who is 28 still does. Must remember, I am no longer at university and with looming grown up mortgage/financial death knoll, will at the very least try to have some semblance of maturity when it comes to own laundry.

3. Stop bitching about sales staff in our office
Whenever I say anything like "I can't stand him, and I'm not even going to bother talking to him at his leaving drinks anyway, because I think he's a bit of a c*nt", one or both of the sales staff seem to appear, as if by magic, to walk right past our desk. Maybe in general, start being nicer to people, and remember it is not their fault if they are scummy, as it could be due to some horrible episode in their childhood.

Tricky, very tricky, as unfortunately there are so many people around who I want to grab by the shoulders, shake them hard and scream "YOU'RE A TWAT" to.

4. Learn how to walk in Stilettos
AKA: Try to start looking better. This is purely girly fantasy that this is the year I'll get my act together and start to look glamorous all the time, even if it is to only get a news paper on a Sunday morning, much like Parisian women do. Annoyingly, this is all because I managed to wander unguided into the self-help section at Borders last weekend, and have discovered an endless array of life sucking books like "Busy Girls Guide to Looking Great", "How to Walk in High Heals", "A Girls Guide to Glamour", "The Body Bible: Every Woman's Essential blah blah blah blah blah".. I have not bought any of these books, but they seem to have lots of time saving tips. Have not stooped so low to start looking at books like "Women Are From Mars" or "Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway" (sounds painful), or "Awaken the Giant Within" (eek). Will refrain from going back to self help section again, unless it's to laugh at people reading them. Obviously this goes against resolution 3. Tricky...

5. Actually See a Sunday Morning
No longer just laze in bed all weekend doing nothing but watching ABC1 and endless repeats of "8 Simple Rules" and "Scrubs".

So that's about it really. Nothing life shattering. Nothing that I shouldn't be able to do. Of course, I should mention that Resolution 1 has already had 1 small hick up because the white pashmina does not in fact belong to the gf of the guy at work. Have decided that since I've washed it now, I will just keep it, because the person who lost it mustn't have wanted it that much anyway, or they wouldn't have left it, and besides I lose things all the time, so it's like a cosmic gift for all the single gloves that have disappeared over time. Thanks cosmos.