My parents just called me at work and it was just the nicest thing ever. I mean we talk once a week anyway and we're a close family so if anything goes wrong or I'm feeling down, I'll call them up but this week I've been thinking of them and meaning to call but haven't been home at the right times. And then taadaa! They call me.
I'm fairly happy with the life I've set up for myself over here and I'm doing it all without the support network/general frame of reference I'm used to at home and that's all good. Look at me all Little Miss Independant and Living it Large in London. Ka pai. But sometimes it's just nice to hear a familiar voice, especially when it's Mum and Dad.
So for a little while the stress of deadline, general lack of motivation and heat-induced headache faded away to be replaced by the warm fuzzy that you can only get from family. Thanks for calling guys. xox
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
whoopteedoo
This folks, is the 100th post on this blog. I should have photos galore and witticisms abounding but all I want to do is go back home and crawl in to bed. Or even just crawl under my desk. I have been struck down by a huge wallop of apathy and a side serving of lethargy. Or maybe it's apathy that's the side dish- I'm not so sure and predictably, I don't really care. I have no idea why I am this tired. I mean it's been hard to muster up energy in this heat anyway but this is the worst yet. (Not the heat, my reaction.) I even got myself to the gym this morning and usually this is enough to kickstart my day but my one minor surge of endorphins wore off a good wee while ago. This apathy inducing lethargy also feeds in to work which ain’t so fab. We're on deadline this week and I have a reasonably lengthy list of things to do, most of them just small things like emails to send but I can't be bothered to do even that. And if I don't, it'll pile up and Friday will be mega stress. So I need to do it now but all I seem to have the energy for is whinging into the cyber void about how shit I feel. Which isn't really what you folks care to read but if this exists, as I thought it did, to keep people up to date on the life of me well here it is. You're up to date. Woe is me, poor widdle Aynzy-kins, yada yada yada.
(Once this slump passes, there will be a hugely enthusiastic email about my weekend in Ireland which was fantastic. I had one of my best weekends ever and the wedding was beautiful. I just need to start in on this list that sits on my desk and glares at me ominously... I'm hoping things will pick up after lunch.)
(Once this slump passes, there will be a hugely enthusiastic email about my weekend in Ireland which was fantastic. I had one of my best weekends ever and the wedding was beautiful. I just need to start in on this list that sits on my desk and glares at me ominously... I'm hoping things will pick up after lunch.)
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
this wasn't meant to be a vegetarian rant
Given the obvious enthusiasm with which I rended limbs from my lobster last night and sucked off every piece of flesh I could get my slippery garlic butter covered fingers on, no outside observer would ever guess that I'm vegetarian. (Although yes, I know, if I eat seafood I'm not really a proper vego. I know this but a girl has to live and vitamins do not fill the nutritional gap that fish (or just about any other form of marine life unlucky enough to stray across my path) does.)
So yeah, last night I had lobster for the first time ever. A bunch of us went to Belgos, a Belgium restaurant in Covent Garden, for Mandy's birthday and we had such a fab time. In London it can be so hit and miss when you go out for food and although slightly pricey, this place was worth every penny.
Sometimes I wonder what kind of vegetarian I am. And I don't mean as in chicken eating/fish eating/vegan/don't put meat anywhere near where it could even think (were it alive any more, poor thing) about touching my tofu, but rather- am I a hypocrite or not? I'm vegetarian for moral reasons. What exactly those morals are I don't really know any more. When I was about 14, I burst onto tears while eating a sausage and I stopped eating meat. Then an unnatural amount of hair fell out so I started again but was still conflicted and as of New Year 1996 I stopped. (This is to date the only New Year's resolution I have ever managed to keep.) In the teenage years I, in my oh-so-wannabe-rebel-but-not-actually-knowing-anything-about punk/grunge/goth/anti-establishment way, defined it as "not approving of the heartless killing of innocent masses". And I think that's essentially what it still is. I have no problem with the food chain, that's life baby, but I don't like that things are mass-bred and go through nasty living conditions to feed us- especially when there is so much waste. I worked in a supermarket for 4 years and there's a LOT of meat that gets thrown out and I'd think, "That's a whole little piggy that could have been trotting around." During this time I was on and off with eating seafood. I ate it initially because, hypocritically, I didn't feel so bad about eating fish. Then my uncle pointed out to me that if it was the whole cruelty thing I didn't like then I was a total hypocrite with fish because those things are hauled out of their home and left to suffocate to death. And he has a point. So for a while, quite a while in fact, it was no fish too but there were health 'issues' so I decided to give it another go and I feel much healthier and better for it.
Just not morally better is all. Not only do the poor little fishies die nasty deaths but they are being over-fished and although I don't like animals being bred for food, at least we're not killing off species by doing it. So as I ripped in to my lobster last night I did spare a thought for this. I did think about my poor lobster which had probably spent his final hours crammed in a tank with other poor potential victims. I did feel bad. I did think I made up to him by thinking that if I were to die and get eaten, I'd hope someone served me up in a garlic butter sauce on a bed of rocket with a side of the best frittes to be had. And I'd hope that person ate every piece of flesh there was and cracked me open to find every last piece of flesh and wasn't picky about it and had a bloody good time doing it.
I was the kind of meat eater, back in the day, who chomped off the end of my chicken drumstick and sucked out the marrow. I like meat. Well I liked it. I honestly now don't how I'd react to the texture of flesh now. Over in the UK there is a comprehensive range of meat imitation vege products and I've been working my way through them- for something to do if nothing else. The other night I had imitation burger patties and it was a bloody disconcerting experience. These things smelt like meat, tasted like meat (from what I can remember) and had the texture too. I ate it all but had a very strange expression on my face the whole time. I really don't know how I felt about it. I think that now I would have a problem with eating 'flesh'. This is a feeling you don't get from eating tuna or smoked salmon but you almost get from prawns at times. That chomping feeling. It sometimes puts me off.
So now I am the kind of vegetarian who eats seafood, wears leather shoes and would happily eat an animal that I could bring myself to kill. For that matter I'd probably happily eat someone's family cow or chicken that had had a happy life of carelessly running free. So I don't think I can call myself a 'good' vegetarian but I still call myself vegetarian none-the-less.
But enough of my vege rant. I was meant to be talking about the cool Belgium restaurant. Or more to the point, about our hilarious waiter. The rest of the girls thought he was a bit much but I thought he was a delightful breath of fresh air. As we placed our orders he would give his opinion on what we were ordering. Prawns? [Sceptical raised eyebrow] Lobster? [well done] chocolate mouse [nose wrinkled in disgust] what's wrong with the mouse? [I don't like sweet things]. The best by far though was when Kerry ordered her coffee. Cappuccino [approving nod] but just half a shot [look of confusion] I just like it weak, a whole shot is too much for me [dubiously raised eyebrow] and can you make it decaf [chaos- total look of confusion, arms flung up in the air- coffee=café=caffeine=what are you doing?!] I know just how he would have reacted to someone ordering a caffeine-free diet Coke. ;-) Tee hee hee. 
They also have an absolutely amazing range of beers and even fruit beers. Dude. I had a mango one and a raspberry one and they were both delicious. Lauren (the girl in the pic with me) had mussels and I tried one and they too were amazing. I usually like mussels but have reservations because sometimes they're chewy and that's not cool. These were incredible melt-in-your-mouth muscles and I might have them next time because them I definitely DON'T feel sorry for at all. Kerry amused us all by "feeding her chest" as she puts it. Something of everything she are seemed to squirt or drop on to her shirt. (Hence the napkin on her chest.) So it was an interactive evening of ordering and all the food we got was great and I would recommend the place to anyone. Slightly pricey but for people coming to London- we will so have to go there.
the internet
Since I'm writing so much today (prepping you guys for the drought while I'm in Ireland), I've decided to get all jiggy with it and do some headings. Which means breaking out the old HTML for some fancy font sizes and colours. When I worked at Critic I often had to turn on my safe-search in Google because for some reason, the searches I would put in would lead me to the dark and dodgey corners of cyberspace. In my time at Geographical, I have had no such need. Until today. It was a perfectly innocent (or so I thought) search too: dragon pics. I was trying to track down an image library that I had been told was called Dragon Pics. So I popped that in to Google and got a whole lot of links along this line:
asian boys nude. barefoot chinese sex girls photos, amatuer nude ...
... asian girls lesbians naked latino asian longhorned beetle asian sex now ... asian girls naked grannys chinese dragon pics chinese tractors torture tiny ...
Please note the lack of actual link because I am NOT linking to that. I mean what the f***?! How do those sites come up with this shit? I mean I know how they do it, good old meta tags, but what makes them think to drop in dragons with asian lesbians and something longhorned. I'm almost scared...
So have a fab weekend you lot and Mon shall see many glorious pics of me in Ireland. Hopefully.
So yeah, last night I had lobster for the first time ever. A bunch of us went to Belgos, a Belgium restaurant in Covent Garden, for Mandy's birthday and we had such a fab time. In London it can be so hit and miss when you go out for food and although slightly pricey, this place was worth every penny. Sometimes I wonder what kind of vegetarian I am. And I don't mean as in chicken eating/fish eating/vegan/don't put meat anywhere near where it could even think (were it alive any more, poor thing) about touching my tofu, but rather- am I a hypocrite or not? I'm vegetarian for moral reasons. What exactly those morals are I don't really know any more. When I was about 14, I burst onto tears while eating a sausage and I stopped eating meat. Then an unnatural amount of hair fell out so I started again but was still conflicted and as of New Year 1996 I stopped. (This is to date the only New Year's resolution I have ever managed to keep.) In the teenage years I, in my oh-so-wannabe-rebel-but-not-actually-knowing-anything-about punk/grunge/goth/anti-establishment way, defined it as "not approving of the heartless killing of innocent masses". And I think that's essentially what it still is. I have no problem with the food chain, that's life baby, but I don't like that things are mass-bred and go through nasty living conditions to feed us- especially when there is so much waste. I worked in a supermarket for 4 years and there's a LOT of meat that gets thrown out and I'd think, "That's a whole little piggy that could have been trotting around." During this time I was on and off with eating seafood. I ate it initially because, hypocritically, I didn't feel so bad about eating fish. Then my uncle pointed out to me that if it was the whole cruelty thing I didn't like then I was a total hypocrite with fish because those things are hauled out of their home and left to suffocate to death. And he has a point. So for a while, quite a while in fact, it was no fish too but there were health 'issues' so I decided to give it another go and I feel much healthier and better for it.
Just not morally better is all. Not only do the poor little fishies die nasty deaths but they are being over-fished and although I don't like animals being bred for food, at least we're not killing off species by doing it. So as I ripped in to my lobster last night I did spare a thought for this. I did think about my poor lobster which had probably spent his final hours crammed in a tank with other poor potential victims. I did feel bad. I did think I made up to him by thinking that if I were to die and get eaten, I'd hope someone served me up in a garlic butter sauce on a bed of rocket with a side of the best frittes to be had. And I'd hope that person ate every piece of flesh there was and cracked me open to find every last piece of flesh and wasn't picky about it and had a bloody good time doing it.
I was the kind of meat eater, back in the day, who chomped off the end of my chicken drumstick and sucked out the marrow. I like meat. Well I liked it. I honestly now don't how I'd react to the texture of flesh now. Over in the UK there is a comprehensive range of meat imitation vege products and I've been working my way through them- for something to do if nothing else. The other night I had imitation burger patties and it was a bloody disconcerting experience. These things smelt like meat, tasted like meat (from what I can remember) and had the texture too. I ate it all but had a very strange expression on my face the whole time. I really don't know how I felt about it. I think that now I would have a problem with eating 'flesh'. This is a feeling you don't get from eating tuna or smoked salmon but you almost get from prawns at times. That chomping feeling. It sometimes puts me off.
So now I am the kind of vegetarian who eats seafood, wears leather shoes and would happily eat an animal that I could bring myself to kill. For that matter I'd probably happily eat someone's family cow or chicken that had had a happy life of carelessly running free. So I don't think I can call myself a 'good' vegetarian but I still call myself vegetarian none-the-less.
But enough of my vege rant. I was meant to be talking about the cool Belgium restaurant. Or more to the point, about our hilarious waiter. The rest of the girls thought he was a bit much but I thought he was a delightful breath of fresh air. As we placed our orders he would give his opinion on what we were ordering. Prawns? [Sceptical raised eyebrow] Lobster? [well done] chocolate mouse [nose wrinkled in disgust] what's wrong with the mouse? [I don't like sweet things]. The best by far though was when Kerry ordered her coffee. Cappuccino [approving nod] but just half a shot [look of confusion] I just like it weak, a whole shot is too much for me [dubiously raised eyebrow] and can you make it decaf [chaos- total look of confusion, arms flung up in the air- coffee=café=caffeine=what are you doing?!] I know just how he would have reacted to someone ordering a caffeine-free diet Coke. ;-) Tee hee hee. 
They also have an absolutely amazing range of beers and even fruit beers. Dude. I had a mango one and a raspberry one and they were both delicious. Lauren (the girl in the pic with me) had mussels and I tried one and they too were amazing. I usually like mussels but have reservations because sometimes they're chewy and that's not cool. These were incredible melt-in-your-mouth muscles and I might have them next time because them I definitely DON'T feel sorry for at all. Kerry amused us all by "feeding her chest" as she puts it. Something of everything she are seemed to squirt or drop on to her shirt. (Hence the napkin on her chest.) So it was an interactive evening of ordering and all the food we got was great and I would recommend the place to anyone. Slightly pricey but for people coming to London- we will so have to go there.the internet
Since I'm writing so much today (prepping you guys for the drought while I'm in Ireland), I've decided to get all jiggy with it and do some headings. Which means breaking out the old HTML for some fancy font sizes and colours. When I worked at Critic I often had to turn on my safe-search in Google because for some reason, the searches I would put in would lead me to the dark and dodgey corners of cyberspace. In my time at Geographical, I have had no such need. Until today. It was a perfectly innocent (or so I thought) search too: dragon pics. I was trying to track down an image library that I had been told was called Dragon Pics. So I popped that in to Google and got a whole lot of links along this line:
asian boys nude. barefoot chinese sex girls photos, amatuer nude ...
... asian girls lesbians naked latino asian longhorned beetle asian sex now ... asian girls naked grannys chinese dragon pics chinese tractors torture tiny ...
Please note the lack of actual link because I am NOT linking to that. I mean what the f***?! How do those sites come up with this shit? I mean I know how they do it, good old meta tags, but what makes them think to drop in dragons with asian lesbians and something longhorned. I'm almost scared...
So have a fab weekend you lot and Mon shall see many glorious pics of me in Ireland. Hopefully.
poor ickle me
I think all my enthusiasm is evaporating out of me. This is not sweat I am swimming in as I sit here, it's my motivation oozing out of my pores to get all clammy behind my knees and down my back. It is H O T. It's meant to get up to 34 degrees today but I reckon we're well there by now and it has to be more than that in this office. Apparently temperatures on buses have already reached 50 degrees and it's 42 on the tube. And yes, that's celsius folks. Tomorrow we're meant to get up to 39 and I would seriously take a "sick" day( *cough* *cough*) if I weren't already off for 2 days this week and we have deadline looming next Fri. Damn me and my conscience. To get home I have to catch the overland (airconditioned thank you God) and the bus (why God why) and to get in to town after that for Mandy's birthday dinner I need to catch the tube (whatever it was I did, I'm reallyreally sorry. I'll be good from now on. Promise). So there may be no more blogs because you can't type once you've melted into a pile of goop.
Monday, July 17, 2006
a saga of Irish proportions
I had contemplated writing this up like a screenplay with cast lists and everything but frankly, I can't be bothered to instead you'll get the brutal summary- This Wednesday I'm heading over to Ireland for Anita's wedding. Anita is one of the 4 daughters of Pat & Olive who I spent Xmas with.
Plan A- fly over on the Wed evening, get picked up from the airport and stay with my cousin Aaron who I haven't seen in 8 years
Plan B- I can't get picked up on the Wed night any more so I suck up to Corin and get a bed to stay for Wed night and plan to bus out to the wedding on the Thurs morn.
Plan C- Cathy says she can pick me up and I can stay with her and her lot....
Today saw what I can only hope is Plan D, the last in the saga:
I will be collected by "a rather hunky friend of Steve [the groom] with funky hair" who will have a placard with my name on it so I will feel either really important or really embarrassed. He will then take me and another youngish couple coming in at the same-ish time to Anita [the bride] and Steve's house in Carrickfergus outside Belfast. There will be "5 young people, all direct or indirect friends of Steve", and Cathy tells me that Anita tells her that I'll be well placed and have a ball.
Dude.
If this is not the most Irish thing ever, I don't know what is. I think I shall either have one of the most fab weekends ever or things will be quitequite pear shaped... I am of course crossing my fingers for single, spunky-haired-hunks with hilarious Belfast accents. Wish me luck.
Plan A- fly over on the Wed evening, get picked up from the airport and stay with my cousin Aaron who I haven't seen in 8 years
Plan B- I can't get picked up on the Wed night any more so I suck up to Corin and get a bed to stay for Wed night and plan to bus out to the wedding on the Thurs morn.
Plan C- Cathy says she can pick me up and I can stay with her and her lot....
Today saw what I can only hope is Plan D, the last in the saga:
I will be collected by "a rather hunky friend of Steve [the groom] with funky hair" who will have a placard with my name on it so I will feel either really important or really embarrassed. He will then take me and another youngish couple coming in at the same-ish time to Anita [the bride] and Steve's house in Carrickfergus outside Belfast. There will be "5 young people, all direct or indirect friends of Steve", and Cathy tells me that Anita tells her that I'll be well placed and have a ball.
Dude.
If this is not the most Irish thing ever, I don't know what is. I think I shall either have one of the most fab weekends ever or things will be quitequite pear shaped... I am of course crossing my fingers for single, spunky-haired-hunks with hilarious Belfast accents. Wish me luck.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
presspassing and trespassing
I got to go to Stonehenge!
Last Thursday, Ali and I went to Andover to presspass the magazine at St.Ives, our printers. Stonehenge isn't far from Andover and since Ali was driving, we took a detour. Armed with our audio guides, we traipsed around the stones and I really wish I could remember some of the interesteing facts and yes, I could Google it now to fill you folks in but you know what, you guys can Google it yourself if you care that much. About the only fact I came away remembering is that 1/3 of the stones is buried underground which is pretty bloody amazing. It would be moreso if I had a height figure for you (but I don't) so instead just think of these bloody huge stones being another thrid as huge. Dude. Them's some big ooga stones, let me tell you.
(This is Ali.)
As we walked around, we talked about the shame it was that th efield where the stones are is fenced off with barbed wire, that you have to pay to get in, and that the pathway around the stones is roped..........
------and that's as far as I got with my writing the other day. RIght now I'm just going to brutally wind this up. Slap in some happy snaps and get this baby posted because otherwise it's gonna hang around forever and I have a weekend coming up and hopefully new and exciting things to blog about on Monday. As a side note- Mimi Smartypants is an editor so small wonder that she writes well. That makes me feel a bit better. ;-) But for now- back to my abortion of a blog:
The stones are roped off so you can't stand beside them which sucks.
I have about a kazillion of pics like this but all are pretty much the same (although of course all totally different and special, hence needing to take so many...) It was al nice and moodybroody though.
Press-passing, which I will have to talk about later- and I feel I should, if only for Kitty's benefit because it's designy, was bloody interesting and I'm so glad I went.
The end.
Except forthis. Dude.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
when I grow up
I want to be this cool
Or at least I want to write like mimi smartypants. I was checking out a related link on A Dress A Day which was, up until half an hour ago, my fav blog of the moment. (Even though I can't wear dresses (they never fit) I love to look at the pics and I like the way she writes.) But no more. I am now a mimi smartypants fan. What's the appeal? Well I'm still trying to nut it out but I think it comes down to: I like the way this lady thinks and the way she writes about it. It's the way I imagine things sounding in my head when I want to blog, it has to attitude and cadence I want and then I just come out with my usual bollocks. *sigh* I'll be that cool one day. Honest. In the mean time, everyone should get along and check out her blog: http://smartypants.diaryland.com because it is cool and cutiepie. And her kid sounds ultra supercutiepie. I don't like the dairyland setup as much as blogspot or maybe it's just the way she's set it up but focus on the content people.
As I write, I have a draft of another entry almost ready to rock - lots of Stonehenge pics among other things - but for now this is what you get coz I am supermegaüberbusy with work. As you may have guessed from my one week blogging absence. Patience grasshopper, there shall be plenty of nonsensical blather soon enough.
Or at least I want to write like mimi smartypants. I was checking out a related link on A Dress A Day which was, up until half an hour ago, my fav blog of the moment. (Even though I can't wear dresses (they never fit) I love to look at the pics and I like the way she writes.) But no more. I am now a mimi smartypants fan. What's the appeal? Well I'm still trying to nut it out but I think it comes down to: I like the way this lady thinks and the way she writes about it. It's the way I imagine things sounding in my head when I want to blog, it has to attitude and cadence I want and then I just come out with my usual bollocks. *sigh* I'll be that cool one day. Honest. In the mean time, everyone should get along and check out her blog: http://smartypants.diaryland.com because it is cool and cutiepie. And her kid sounds ultra supercutiepie. I don't like the dairyland setup as much as blogspot or maybe it's just the way she's set it up but focus on the content people.
As I write, I have a draft of another entry almost ready to rock - lots of Stonehenge pics among other things - but for now this is what you get coz I am supermegaüberbusy with work. As you may have guessed from my one week blogging absence. Patience grasshopper, there shall be plenty of nonsensical blather soon enough.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Hello! Lady! Ok!
I just thought i'd show you what the headline on stuff.co.nz is today. For some reason I find this really hilarious.
First issue of Critic is out for the semester - a fishy and chippy themed one. Quite a shock to this technical editor, who thought she had another 10 issues to think about something different to do with fish and chips for the cover.
Virtual Critic will be up shortly. After my little break from putting VC up, it wasn't until typing this blog that I realised I haven't done it for this week.
Also, if you're a crazy person, the new "flatting mag" is out, and if you really want to see it I'll post it to you. W00T!
I am currently negotiating my ticket for GlobalKitty. Why is it that airlines only want to fly in one direction all the time? It's so fricken disruptive of my plans. It's like models who can only turn left or something. All I want to do is fly to Asia, then U.S then Europe. Cheesus!
ummmm.... yeah.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
we will stop at nothing
As science progresses, the scenarios of the sci-fi books of my youth seem less like fiction and more like a potential reality. The stories where Earth is a barren wasteland because we've pillaged all its resources or global warming has had its wicked way with the planet; the ones like Gattaca where normal, unaltered people are the freaks, not the ones who have been enhanced or screened at birth; the ones about wars between humans and the clones/drone slaves they produced. I mean we have the technology and even if we don't quite have all of it just yet, we're well on our way.
I myself don't know where I draw the line with scientific research and how far we should take our findings or even how far we should actually explore. Surely there's a point where we should go, "You know what? We could find out about that but maybe we'd better just leave it as it is and, just for once, not see if we can put it back together better than it was before we pulled it apart."
Why the cynicism you ask? Well I came across this article the other day. I think this news story foreshadows (probably not quite the word I want but I'll use it anyway) up the potential fate of mankind quite nicely. I mean what can you say about a race that is willing to stick extended legs on to ants as well as chopping bits off just to see how exactly it is that they manage to get back to their home? Some may say I'm overreacting but to me it seems curiosity taken just way to fucking far that we will chop the legs of something (I don't know if they can feel it, maybe they can, maybe they can't.) to see how it works. I know, it’s ‘only an ant’, but for Christsake people, where’s the line people?! This is the human race folks. We will stop at nothing to scratch that curiosity itch. I say the doomsday stories of my sci-fi youth are just a matter of time. Someone will clone a human, someone will make a kangaroo/human hybrid and why? Just to see if they can.
I myself don't know where I draw the line with scientific research and how far we should take our findings or even how far we should actually explore. Surely there's a point where we should go, "You know what? We could find out about that but maybe we'd better just leave it as it is and, just for once, not see if we can put it back together better than it was before we pulled it apart."
Why the cynicism you ask? Well I came across this article the other day. I think this news story foreshadows (probably not quite the word I want but I'll use it anyway) up the potential fate of mankind quite nicely. I mean what can you say about a race that is willing to stick extended legs on to ants as well as chopping bits off just to see how exactly it is that they manage to get back to their home? Some may say I'm overreacting but to me it seems curiosity taken just way to fucking far that we will chop the legs of something (I don't know if they can feel it, maybe they can, maybe they can't.) to see how it works. I know, it’s ‘only an ant’, but for Christsake people, where’s the line people?! This is the human race folks. We will stop at nothing to scratch that curiosity itch. I say the doomsday stories of my sci-fi youth are just a matter of time. Someone will clone a human, someone will make a kangaroo/human hybrid and why? Just to see if they can.
the modern feminist
I like to think that being a true feminist in the 21st century means that although I know I can lift the 19L water bottle to replace it in the water cooler, I am perfectly happy to let one of the boys at work do it when they offer. Because they're being polite by offering so surely it's polite to accept? Also it's bloody hot today and I've already been to the gym and done yoga so I have every right to be lazy and accept chivalry when it comes my way.
So last week was press week and hectically busy as per usual and this week it's been horribly hot (and in the weekend too)- like up to 32 degrees. Apparently it got up to 38 degrees in some on the tennis courts at Wimbledon. Jesus. Those poor buggers having to run around and hit a ball in that heat. Not for me chickadee. And although I've managed to drag myself to the gym in the mornings, the heat has otherwise drained me of the will to do anything but sit in the shade with ice cold drinks. I can't even be bothered blogging which is saying a lot.
On Saturday I watched England get kicked out of the World Cup (snigger). Well not too much snigger really. They didn't play that well and didn't deserve to go through but they didn't deserve to lose out because of penalties either. And they cried at the end which really was just sad- not sadpathetic but ohyoupoorthingI'msosorry sad. They really did want it bad. So now all the England flags and support paraphernalia has come down and the place looks naked.
All this means that attention can be focused on Wimbledon (or in my case the tri-nations which is starting, I think, this week). My tube station is the one you get off at for Wimbledon and every year at tennis time the station gets a facelift. I should take before and after pics for you folks. It's quite hilarious (I've noticed that I use this word a lot) too see how everything gets dolled up for the tourists. What is not hilarious are the crowds we have to cope with. No cash at any of the cash machines because they've been cleared out, no seats available on the tube, stalls of tacky souvenirs everywhere. Grumble grumble. My friends went to see the tennis last Friday but I couldn't go because of press deadlines but secretly I don't mind too much because of the queuing involved to get in. People camp out in front of the venue during the fortnight of Wimbledon and queues can get to at least 500m (this is not a fact I know, this is me taking a guess at the distance from the venue to the park down the road). I do know you could be in the queue for 3 hours. It becomes as much of an event as the tennis. People bring drinks and picnics, it's insane. Only in Britain would they make an event of queuing.
So last week was press week and hectically busy as per usual and this week it's been horribly hot (and in the weekend too)- like up to 32 degrees. Apparently it got up to 38 degrees in some on the tennis courts at Wimbledon. Jesus. Those poor buggers having to run around and hit a ball in that heat. Not for me chickadee. And although I've managed to drag myself to the gym in the mornings, the heat has otherwise drained me of the will to do anything but sit in the shade with ice cold drinks. I can't even be bothered blogging which is saying a lot.
On Saturday I watched England get kicked out of the World Cup (snigger). Well not too much snigger really. They didn't play that well and didn't deserve to go through but they didn't deserve to lose out because of penalties either. And they cried at the end which really was just sad- not sadpathetic but ohyoupoorthingI'msosorry sad. They really did want it bad. So now all the England flags and support paraphernalia has come down and the place looks naked.
All this means that attention can be focused on Wimbledon (or in my case the tri-nations which is starting, I think, this week). My tube station is the one you get off at for Wimbledon and every year at tennis time the station gets a facelift. I should take before and after pics for you folks. It's quite hilarious (I've noticed that I use this word a lot) too see how everything gets dolled up for the tourists. What is not hilarious are the crowds we have to cope with. No cash at any of the cash machines because they've been cleared out, no seats available on the tube, stalls of tacky souvenirs everywhere. Grumble grumble. My friends went to see the tennis last Friday but I couldn't go because of press deadlines but secretly I don't mind too much because of the queuing involved to get in. People camp out in front of the venue during the fortnight of Wimbledon and queues can get to at least 500m (this is not a fact I know, this is me taking a guess at the distance from the venue to the park down the road). I do know you could be in the queue for 3 hours. It becomes as much of an event as the tennis. People bring drinks and picnics, it's insane. Only in Britain would they make an event of queuing.
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