breaking my heart

I'm spending Christmas with family friends in Ireland and just called up to confirm that they had all my flight details etc and got to talk to the kids, Sean and Daisy. I can't believe I didn't blog about my trip there at Easter. I thought I did but cannot find a post about it anywhere. At any rate, the relevant point about that trip was that Sean, who at 4 years old (now 5) was really getting into his words, realised that Aynia rhymes with lasagne so I spent 5 days in Portugal being called Aynia Lasagne which is something I haven't been called since I was 8 years old and thought I had done a pretty good job at stomping out. However- when a 4 year old boy with a heart-stoppingly cheeky smile is so proud of himself for 'inventing' this name for me, well I just didn't have the heart to quash it.

When I got to talk to the kids just now, Sean gets on the phone and proud as punch, announced, "Hello Aynia Lasagne!" to which I had to reply, "Hello Seany-prawny" (you say it's lame but it was his suggestion). But then Daisy gets on the phone and, bless her soul, she proudly tries to say the same thing but it comes out more like 'Aynia lagnana' and my heart nearly broke from the übercuteness of it all. I'm only going to get to see them for a night and part of a day before they fly back to Portugal so goodluck to their family getting near them in that time.

island paradise

That's it, I'm moving to Rarotonga. Or at least going for a VERY long holiday. Apparently their library is chocca-block stocked with quality literature (my penchant for this is my now-not-so-secret shame) and between that, the sunshine, the sand and the scuba, I could be happy for a veryvery long time.

pining

Fresh on the heels of my Egyptian trip, the aftermath of which is a strong rekindling of my need to live by the ocean and be on the water, I decided to add insult to injury by checking out Kura's blog. She's living in Rarotonga and the bitch (I say that with love) manages to make it sound and look pretty bloody idyllic. Her husband just completed his PADI course and saw eagle rays and sharks. Eagle rays and sharks!!!To say I'm spitting with jealously would be an understatement. I have to keep reminding myself that there are reasons for my being in London at the moment and have to resist the urge to ship myself across the world and spend all my life savings (which is sweet f*ck all at the moment and would get me nowhere) getting myself into the water. I've been back for almost 2 weeks now and it's still pretty much all I can think about, I think I've caught this bug bad. I also think I need to stop whinging and moaning about it though as I'm wearing out sympathy and starting to get a smidge annoying... ;-)

living on a prayer

I came across this photo in my weekly UK Climbing newsletter, for some more stunners check here but this one was definitely the winner.



The caption reads: James McHaffie on the finishing jug of Masters Edge - look at that run out! For those not in the know, 'runout' is the distance between 2 pieces of kit and if you look at the photo, that lad has a looooooong stretch of rope below him not clipped in to anything and it makes my breath catch to think how big a fall he'd take if he came off. "Eeek" doesn't even begin to cover it.

not surprising really

Killing time on a Friday, I had to try this philosophy quiz I saw on Marie's blog.



Apparently I'm existentialist (no surprise) with a penchant for justice which is pretty much me.

joining in

So I've come back from my holiday all rejuvenated and inspired and all go-go-go and eager to do new things. I spent my flight back from the UK planning my holidays for next year and let me tell you, they were awesome and action-packed. But then I spent the Monday night doing some rough budgeting and planning and the sad reality is that I can't afford to do them all so will have to pick and choose. Plus there are things in London I'd like to do as well and ultimately it comes down to an annoying financial balancing act.

I've decided that I'd like to take up swimming because it makes sense to be a good swimmer if you're going to be a diver (and by good I don't necessarily mean styley, more like stamina) so after some research, my local community centre pool is looking like the best bet. They also offer courses of all sorts and reading through their brochure yesterday had me laughing out loud and regaling my colleagues with quotes.


Now I love flowers and have always though I might enjoy something floristry-esque but TEN WEEKS worth of 2 hr sessions? I don't know.... I like that the course is "open to all levels" although it made me giggle as I tried to imagine what "extreme floristry" might be like: "not for the faint-hearted and recommended for people with over 300 hours floristry experience this course is a rewarding experience in dealing with the more adventurous side of floral arranging..."


I might have been peeing with laughter over this one if I wasn't almost silenced by shock. I mean it's great that they have a course introducing people to Macs but really 1Macs are pretty bloody intuitive and you'd think it's PCs that need the intro course and 2 How the HELL do you need EIGHTEEN HOURS to decide whether "a Mac is for you!"?!?!?! You'd think just one hour (max) would be enough....


This just amused me because there is Spanish stage 1 and 3 but what ever happened to stage 2?

oh I do like to be beside the sea

This was my instructor Claudio. Or rather, this is Claudio who was my instructor. When I did things right I'd get the okay sign, if it went rather well I'd get the okay sign with both hands and when I got something perfect it was full on rock hands like in the pic. We had a ball. It's funny how well you can communicate things underwater even when you can't talk. (And yet at the same time some things are very confusing.... ;-)


Claudio again. He's inflated his drysuit to try to make it look like he has big muscley arms. Goodluck.


And here is me with some people who were on my boat and their instructor. We've exchanged emails but you never know how good people will be at keeping in contact. Jess is Irish and I think we were without a doubt the two craziest girls of whichever boat we were on, we made a right pair.

I can't pinpoint exactly what it was that made my holiday so great because it was a combination of the people and the place itself... Camel is a great place to stay and the staff are genuinely friendly and helpful and it was very cool to come back and have people remember me from 9 months ago. Now I'd like to put part of that down to the staff being cool but I will also have to take part of the credit myself as I make a point of smiling nicely and saying hello and thank you and all that. Especially traveling by yourself, I think it's important. Heading over, I had been a bit anxious about being Little Miss No-mates (3 weeks by myself in Greece seems 5 years ago, not 2 1/2) but I had an absolute ball. I was on boats regularly with some of the same people so we'd meet up for dinner or drinks in the evenings. There is definitely something to be said for traveling solo because it does force you to socialise whereas otherwise it's easy to just be lazy and hang out with the people to are on holiday with.

Despite being a busy place (even in winter, Sharm is a tourist meca), the atmoshpere still feels very laid-back. Maybe it's the sun, maybe it's being by the ocean. Regardless of what it was, it was a reality check for me. I love my job, I love the friends I've made in London, I love my flatmates but I'm not living the lifestyle I want to. I'm a seaside girl, I will have to be honest and even on my last day, when I couldn't dive, I got myself onto a boat for half a day so that I could at least be on the water. Some might crassly describe me as happy as a pig in shit when I'm on a boat but I prefer to be compared to a dog hanging its head out the window of a fast car. But my time here (London) is not yet done so I'll just have to last it out.

oh I do like to be beside the seaside

I'll write something decent very soon but for now, here's a pic of me diving.

are we there yet?

Ok so I know I really need to blog before I go but suddenly there are so many things to tell or at least cool links to share, that the task gets increasingly daunting as the days go by and the easiest way to procrastinate is to, well, simply not do it at all.

But there are some big goings-on in the life of A:

1 My parents are moving to Australia

2 I'm going to Egypt for a week on Saturday to do some diving. WHOOPEE!!!!

I've also got tendinitis where my biceps tendon attaches to my shoulder but that's not so much big news as my being a cripple. I haven't climbed in a week and with another week off for diving it should come right.

Ooh and also- my sister met Giovanni Ribisi. I got a text from her saying that she was talking to him in a bar in Wellington and that's all I know. I'm SO jealous. I hope he was interesting to talk to.

Fluffy Stuff
This is a link to a crazy animated gif.


I came across some paintings which I really like. And I mean really REALLY like. I think they look awesome and I might almost be tempted to get one but 1-cost 2-it'd have to be shipped from the states 3-I think I'd like to see my art in person before buying it. Still, I think they're amazing. I think finding one to fit a room might be a bit of a mission because they're quite intense but I am totally and utterly in love with the style at the very least. I love the bold shapes of the strokes, the ways the colours mix and yet sit as blocks and the way it all feels so chunky and textured and alive.
Read more about how the artist does them here.


This little guy is so cute!

disturbing meat art
And yet somehow cool.

I've found a new cooking blog
And how could I not love it, given that it's called Yumsugar.


It even had a sister site called Geeksugar. That is like so totally me.

And this is another cool cooking blog I found. Lovely pictures. Although this recipe on Baking for Britain is on my hitlist. It looks AMAZING. All that fruit, yumyumyummy.

Right- for now I think that's gonna have to be it. I'll try to post as soon as I'm back from Egypt.

inferiority complex

Two of my friends are all off having adventures. Like big fuck-off huge amazing adventure-of-a-lifetime adventures. Of course I'm jealous. Of course I sit in front of my computer reading their blog feeling like I'm wasting my life and not living it at all when they are building memories of a lifetime. So of course I'm going to use this forum to complain about it.

They are traveling from the UK through to Thailand and doing the whole thing by train over 3 months. This is mainly because Lauren has issue with flying but it's an awesome way to do a trip and see a lot of countryside.

One of my favourite segments so far has been from the entry on Mongolia. Lauren has an acerbic and cry wit and the best of times and I like that when she gets going, I can hear her telling the story and see her facial expressions as I read it. Sue is a blonde which on the Asian continent would seem to be quite the novelty. Here is my fav snippet so far:

Next morning after breakfast we had all signed up for a horse ride. They kitted us out in helmets and chaps, gave us saddles and then we watched them corral the horses and put the saddles on - there was a LOT of nervous laughter at this stage. We all hopped onto a horse and were away - at this stage we noticed Sue had her own person Mongolian Herdsman who had a firm hand on the reigns of Sue's horse. I only started to worry when I noticed them riding away into the sunrise. I am not sure what happened for the time Sue was away from the main group but when they returned the herdsman refused to let go of Sue... and her horse....
At one stage we heard singing (a traditional Mongolian courting ritual) and when Nick went up to see if Sue was ok (I was too busy trying to get my horse to go slower) he got the "leave my woman alone" stare from the herdsman. Sue denies the romance but the whole group could feel the magic in the air.

After the horse ride and lunch we headed out to see the Nomad family in action (Sue paying particular attention, so that if her Mongolian romance worked out she would know her place as 3rd wife).

You can read their blog at Where in the world is Sue? but I must warn you, I'm not fussed with the setup by the people hosting it. I find it annoying to get only segments of entries as tasters and when you click through to read an entry, you're left stranded with only the back arrow on your browser to get you back to the main entry list. DUMB. And annoying.

I do have other things to blog about but for now work calls.

Rocking out

Last weekend I went climbing outside for my first time in the UK. Given that I had only climbed a couple of times out at Long Beach back home about 4 years ago, it might as well have been my first outdoor climb ever. It was terrifying, frustrating and exhilarating all at the same time. Inside I am a pretty fearless climber. I'll jump for anything, I don't care if I fall, I don't mind if I pop off and nothing really phases me. Outside it would seem is a whole different kettle of carabiners and I tend to cling to the cliff in a very accurate imitation of a limpet and don't trust my hands or feet one tenth as much as I do indoors. I have no idea why this is exactly- maybe it seems more 'real' outside, I don't know. All I know is that at the end of Day1 I was pretty disgruntled as I didn't feel I'd climbed well and was definitely vexed by finding myself scared, a feeling I am not at all used to. I have to say thought that my climbing buddy Graeme was a champion beyond belief and never lost patience with me and just found me something nice to climb on Day2, knowing that getting me up something was the main thing and he was infinitely encouraging and managed to do it all in a totally non-patronising way which is no small feat.

Apart from not feeling that I was on top climbing form, it was the best weekend I've had in a long time. We were climbing at Stanage and the views were stunning and it was great to be outside walking around and doing things which I haven't done it farfarfar too long, given that I've been cooped up in the big smoke for so long. I could yabber on about it forever but instead I'll let the pictures do the talking:

Me at the top of one of my first climbs.


This is the view from the top of one of the climbs. Heather moors. Mmmm, pretty....






Me belaying.


Me and Phil at the end of Day1.


Me looking sceptically upwards as the boys set up the rigging for our top rope.


This is the overhang I didn't make it up. I got to where Phil is in this pic and then had to let go. It was possibly one of the most terrifying moments of the weekend as it meant I pendulumed outwards. As I psyched myself to de-limpet from the rock, I realised that my life was quite literally hanging in the balance. The only things stopping me from swinging out into nothingness and down a rocky hill was the rope which was tied into my harness, which was running up and through a carabiner which was connected to another rope which was tied around a rock. Which is sweet fuck all really when you're that high up getting ready to let go of the rock.


And that's it for now. I'll try to upload the vid of Phil letting go so you can see the swing I had to do. Eeek.

achoo

I think that after weeks of avoiding the various colds going around the office, my body is finally succumbing to some weird mutation of the lot. I woke up this morning with a scratchy throat, have felt dizzy when walking, have a wonky personal thermostat and am in a foul mood (not a symptom, just a result of the afore-mentioned). But we go to press in a few days and there's no time to wallow at home so I just need to hang on a bit longer. And there is a weekend in the middle.

But still- people coming into contact with me at the moment should be aware that I'm prone to wallowing in self-pity and operating on a short fuse. Totally not my bad.

killer monkeys?!?!?!

I have to thank Carl for this link. I seriously didn't believe it at first and thought he'd found a spoof site. (He does read The Onion after all...) But no. It turns out that Delhi had a severe monkey problem. Thanks to my sick and twisted sense of humour, I was laughing in disbelief. Especially at this:

One approach has been to train bands of larger, more ferocious langur monkeys to go after the smaller groups of Rhesus macaques.

Nice one. Bring in more ferocious monkeys. Good thinking Batman. Not. DOES NOBODY READ SCI-FI ANYMORE?! Or have common sense I guess but disaster scenarios of this caliber tend to come up more in sci-fi than real life.

ka pai

I always wanted to do animation but discovered very early on that I did not have the patience for it. You should all check out one of my friend's early ventures into doing it for himself. It's basic, yes, but stop to think about the time that has gone in to this. I think it's way cool and has not been done with all your usual fancy-pantsy 3D programs. I am particularly fond of the creature's funky little rocking gait. Props.

heaven

Yesterday I had what can only be described as a small slice of tv heaven. At least my idea of tv heaven- probably tv hell for some but for me it getting to watch two of my favourite childhood films- Ladyhawke, followed by The Princess Bride. The only way to make this better would have been to add on The Neverending Story but that might have meant a bit too much sofa time. Even for me...

The Princess Bride
This is my favourite movie of all time. I can quote most of it to an annoying degree. I could yabber on and on about it but I'm short on time so I'll let the links do the talking. There is of course the obligatory wikipedia link but I quite liked this guy's review although parts of it made me laugh:

I was surprised to learn from the documentary on this DVD that The Princess Bride was a low-budget film, because it doesn’t really look like one.

Umm.... pardon? I rather think it does. And I say this with all the love I possibly can. It's not a cheap and nasty, badly filmed, green-screen-arama movie but there are quite clearly a lot of built sets and not location shots and I'm assuming it's easier to build it than take all the crew out to a location... Anyway, to me, it smacks of low budget, but in a good way.

This has to be one of the most iconic scenes from TPB. There are many more of course and I could embed YouTube movies till the cows come home but I shall restrain myself and stop here:

classic

I feel rude not giving Ladyhawke any space on this entry- maybe the next one. Right now I gotta dash.

it's official.

Ok so I know this is a bit geeky but look at my rope! I have my own climbing rope, I am now officially one of the cool people! Isn't it beautiful? Look at those colours! I am such a proud mum. It doesn't have a name yet but tends to be called 'ropey' or 'baby'. I know, I know, there is little hope for me but, at least for me, getting a rope is a Very Big Deal.

not funny

stomp

I'm in a foul mood today. I guess I woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something similar but I am dead tired, have no motivation and all I want to do is go home and sleep. So I trying to decide- work through lunch and try to go home early because I think I'm getting sick or go to the gym and try to sweat it out. Now I know Plan B would be the best course of action but seeing as going to the gym yesterday was the least enjoyable activity in a long time, I'm thinking my bed sounds good.

But enough of my misery- if I need to cheer myself up, all I really need to do is think of going to see STOMP last night. I've been wanting to see this ever since I got here and now, nearly 2 1/2 years later, I finally made it. It was totally worth it and was up with the most amazing performances I've ever seen. It's totally my kind of thing- dance, percussion, a bit of humour. I would go and see it again in the blink of an eye. If anyone every gets the chance, leap at it. It's amazing.

comic genius

With some birthdays coming up at the moment, I've come across some brilliant cards I had to share. I'm a huge fan of the Edward Monkton cards.

OCD or just common fashion sense?

Last night was the second and final installment of my lead climbing course and I am shattered. I was quite literally peeling off the wall last night. It's a good feeling as you know you're working as hard as you possibly can but at the same time, I still get frustrated with myself because I think I should be able to do more. And now that we've done this course, we need to buy a rope so that we can actually practice. Also, with a view to climbing outside, I'm looking into a helmet. A helmet is one of those items of climbing gear that I think some people don't wear when they're outside because it isn't 'cool'. But for me, just starting out, I think I'd rather be safe than sorry. Plus the company that made my harness does matching helmets and how is a girl meant to be able to pass that by? I'm practically salivating at the thought and won't even look at any others. I want the one that matches, it's that simple. It may not be the prettiest of colours but it matches my harness so, as far as I'm concerned, that's it. Graeme and I were looking at ropes in the shop last night and he was just shaking his head as I immediately discarded certain ropes because they would clash with my kit. Admittedly, my weird brown and bright green (not to mention the mustard and black shoes) are hard to match but I have to try. Of course if I'd had my way initially I'd have blue or purple shoes and harness but it was not to be...

I've also been looking at climbing t-shirts and this one made me laugh out loud. What does it say about me that this is the one that makes me laugh? I'm sure Graeme would appreciate it.

outrage

In other news, I've found out that I have to wait till the 19th of October for Stardust to come out here. The 19th. That's ridiculous. Boo hiss.

drooling

I don't know why, but Stardust has come out in NZ WAY before it has in the UK. Like it's not even out in the UK yet. And I wanna see it bad.

My parents went to see it and my dad has blogged about it. I have to admit to not reading it (his post) because I don't want to spoil the movie for myself which is actually funny because 1- I've read the book so I know what happens* and 2- I skimmed through the post to look at all the pictures anyway. It looks amazing though. On the phone, Dad described it as a mix between LOTR and TPB**. I really really can't wait to see it but of course now I'm worried I'll have built it up too much for myself and it won't be as good as I expect. But still- everyone should go see and if not, read the book anyway, it's magical and Neil Gaiman is a genius.

*but it was over 2 years ago now so my memory on it is a bit fuzzy.
**The Princess Bride. If you didn't know that then SHAME ON YOU.

WWF the cat way

True to form, the cats did "have at it" last night but in nowhere near their usual style. The night before last, Ossy did this brilliant ambush of Arthur who lay on the carpet unsuspecting but I saw her hiding under the chair. She crept out, wiggled her bum and leaped high in the air to arc down on Arthur with a body slam worthy of any WWF wrestler. She has a nifty jujitsu-esque maneuver in this video which would have made any of us proud at my former dojo.


I should apologise for the shitty dark quality of these vids- it was a bit dim and my camera is not very obliging with video in interior light conditions. Never the less, I post another vid for you to witness these two at their nightly revels. I'm very careful to watch that there are no claws involved...


On other cat habits, I came home one day and one of the pillows looked like it had been moved and my PJs were in the middle of the bed and I was sure I'd dumped them on top of the pillows so yesterday I made special note of where I left them and when I came home, sure enough, they'd been moved. I blamed Ossy and it seems I was totally correct. Jane just got back in the country and texted me to see how the week had gone and I relayed my suspicions about Ossy and my PJs and she replied saying, "Yes it is true she plays with mine too. She likes to chew them for a while and then drag them around the house. She is mad." Yup. She sure is. It's just lucky she's so darn cute and that eccentricity is a personality trait I rate highly in a cat.

pumped

On Tues night, Graeme (my climbing buddy) and I did our first session of our lead climbing course.

It was awesome. I had such fun. I still get all adrenaliney and psyched just thinking about it. At first I was fairly nervous for a myriad (good word) of reasons:
1- lead climbing is more dangerous
2- I might not be fit enough to do it (turns out that at least for learning, that isn't really an issue)
3- we were being taught by Mike, the guy who taught us for our beginners course which was over a year ago now and I was nervous knowing that he was really analysing our climbing and checking our technique and I was paranoid that he'd be thinking, "Holy crap, this chick can't climb for sh*t." Which is of course bollocks but still- that's the way my brain works.

I don't know that 3 reasons makes for a myriad but they were all for naught in the end. I did not get hurt, fitness wasn't an issue and Mike told us that we progressed the fastest out of all the people he's taught so far (only 4 groups before us but that doesn't matter to me and Graeme. We know we're cool.) which was awesome.

It also turns out that the Westway, where I climb, is the only place in the UK (or at least London, I'm pretty sure it was the UK) where they teach falling as part of their lead climbing course because it's deemed as potentially dangerous but Westway backs their course and personally, after having started this course. I don't see how you could teach lead climbing without teaching people how to fall. You're more likely to fall lead climbing so it's great for the climber to make sure you're technique is right and also for the belayer to make sure they know different ways of handling your fall.

So our first night involved quite a bit of going up the wall and throwing ourselves off it again which personally, was a hoot. I love it. I totally trust Graeme to catch me so as far as I'm concerned, it's all fun and games. That said, trust is being taken to a whole new level with this course. We did an exercise where the belayer had to close their eyes which as a climber is a little stressful as it means they're doing it all by touch and feeling the tension in the rope. But Graeme and I have a good deal going: don't drop me and I won't drop you. It's worked for us so far. ;-)

Next week will be the last session, it's just 2 x 2hrs and then we need to get a rope and get practicing as we'd like to get outdoors once before winter really kicks in and it's way too cold and wet to do it. Outside! Awesome!

shameless

I have done my first DIVE cover! Ooer, aren't I fancy? And fairly happy with it too, just had to share.

obligatory cat post

I'm a cat person. I can't deny it. I'm so much a cat person that even the annoying traits of cats amuse me. Don't get me wrong, I like dogs too. I like their mindless enthusiasm and eternal optimism but something with cats just resonates.

Jane is away again so once again I'm looking after the house- and now there is a new lady in the house. After the sad and untimely demise of Sweep, it was decided Arthur needed a new friend. What he got was Ossy. She is a small round, compact little lady who is about half his size and absolutely terrorises him. It is hilarious. I watch their play-fighting with half a watchful motherly eye, making sure it doesn't digress in to anything serious but right now they seem happy to just beat each other up, sans claws, which is just fine.

This is Arthur.


As is this.


And this is the little madam. Amongst her other more catty traits is the desire to wake me up in the middle of the night to scratch her under the chin for a few minutes so that she can then trot off back down to the end of the bed where she usually sleeps. If I didn't have such a warped sense of humour, I would not find this amusing.


She is also very good at the cat habit of walking just in front of you so that you live in eternal fear of stepping on her or tripping over her.




And that's it folks. I'm sure I'll manage to blog something of more substance at some point...

buddy!

I don't know what it says about me that I get a kick out of my dodgey spam mail. The gem of this morning was

Good morning, buddy!
Want to see free porn films?
Use real-player in your attachment. Enjoy!

I think it was the "buddy!" that made me smile.

As of tonight I am once again house/cat sitting for one of the ladies from work. Expect a lot of cute cat pics and "funny" cat stories over the next week coz these two are supercutiepies. Arthur is the "kitten" the size of a horse and his new buddy, Ossy, is about half his size but that doesn't stop this spunky chick. Oh no. She takes great delight in pouncing on him and generally terrorising the gentle giant- it's like he doesn't realise he could squash her with one paw. Good times.

almost famous

Well not personally but I was almost close to someone famous. I could have met him. I was definitely within line of sight. And so, ladies and gentlemen, without further a-do, may I present Quentin Tarantino:

I know, I know, it's a shit pic but my camera hates nighttime shots and has a pathetic zoom so it was the best I could get. I was at a premiere event to promote his new movie, Deathproof. A movie premiere would have been nice but instead this was a banger car rally which actually turned out to be quite fun. A bunch of us from work rocked along and chose a car each and cheered them on. Some of them got pretty crunched up, it was hilarious.

confession of a font nazi

I have a dirty little secret to share. In the October issue of DIVE, there will be Comic Sans.

Sorry.

My defence of this travesty is 'post-modern-irony'. I know it's Satan's font but because in this particular situation, it was actually appropriate (and those occasions are few and far between), I have let it through. So how did I come to stoop so low you ask? Well we have a regular feature every month called 'InDepth' and it always has a map of the area covered. October's is Cuba and the opener was a spread where we had postcard-styled photos of variosu aspects of Cuba and the map was one of these. As such, I sent our cartographer the instructions to cheese up the usual map style so that it looked more postcardy and when it came back, which was pretty much minutes before deadline, I saw that he had used Comic Sans as the font for the place names.

I actually wailed out loud.

But time was running short and, when you think about it, so many postcards use Comic Sans and so, with a nod to Fate's twisted and ironic sense of humour, I let it through. I could have changed the font, I had the technology. But I let it stay.

And that my friends is the burden I must bear.

addicted

I've been scanning Hayden's iTunes and have joyously rediscovered The Brunettes. And, as I am wont to do when I find a song I like, I have been playing and replaying and playing and replaying Dancefloor which I think has to be one of the cutest songs ever. I love it. Love love love. Unfortunately I can't find it anywhere on the web to send you guys to listen to it. But check out their myspace anyway.

In other news, it turns out that my curry man is a smoker. Should I tell him it's because of that that we will never be together as opposed to his impinging on my personal space in an unwanted manner?

spam

Sometimes junkmail flies in below the radar of our filter (which tends to be very good, on the whole) and one such instance was the email I got this morning:

From: Jacob Glass@jjkny.com
Subject: Your friend is here

Hello! I am tired this evening. I am nice girl that would like to chat with you. Email me at l@BestOnset.info only, because I am writing not from my personal email. To see some pictures of me.

Umm.... how do I tell them that I highly doubt that Jacob is a nice girl?

not right

On my tube journey on the way to climbing tonight, I had a guy sitting diagonally opposite me who was sucking his thumb. I couldn't help myself, I kept double-taking and staring because I could hardly believe my eyes. I mean this was a grown man, maybe about my age. Watching him sit there with his thumb in his mouth was oddly repellent, I just kept thinking, "Man that is wrong." But I think he was on to me beause everytime I looked up, he was looking at me too, probably wondering why I was staring. Or he knew- I mean how can you not be that old and think it's strange? I was a thumb-sucker in my youth, which is probably why I moved on to being a nail biter but I like to think I'm most reformed on that front and would NEVER dream of suckign mmy thumb. Eeew.

oops I did it again

Yup. Not content with locking myself out once, I decided to do it again. Just because it was so fun the first time...

This time I did it on Monday, the Bank Holiday and I totally blame Extreme Home Makeover. I was meant to be going out shopping with Kez and her flatmates in the afternoon and ended up sitting in front of the tele watching Extreme Home Makeovers which were running all day long. Finally I sent Kez a text saying, "Please for the love of God get me out of here, I am sobbing my eyes out." (It was a very sad episode.) So she called me and said, "Turn that TV off NOW. We're headed for the bus, just go wait for us." So I did.

It was only as I closed the door behind me and went to double lock it that I realised that I had taken my house keys off the main key ring when I went for a run that morning and FORGOTTEN TO PUT THEM BACK ON. So, once again, I was locked out. The common thread here, in case you guys missed it, is me going for a run. Clearly it is not meant to be. Still, smart poppet that I am, I am going to get TWO copies made (haven't done it yet as it needs to be done by a proper locksmith and we don't have one near work which means I'll have to go to the wanker 2 mins from my home who wanted to charge me at least £60 to open up my door last time...) which will mean there is a spare set at the flat which I can take on runs and another set which I will leave at Kerry's flat for safety so that should I have another bout of retardedness, there is a spare set of keys 10 mins up the road. I may be a slow learner but when I learn, I learn.

Extreme Home Makeover is Satan

I made the mistake of turning on the tv as I made my lunch. I should have left it off and returned to my book. But I did and UKTVstyle is having a whole day of Extreme Hoem Makeover. The show is addictive- the tales of trauma of families, the cool design ideas they come up with, the supercheesey American flavour to it all and, most of all, the tears. This show makes me cry like a baby. It's a sunny day outside and I'm glued to the tele, almost bawling my eyes out about families devastated by cancer and financial strife, I can't move away, I need to see how Ty and his team saves the day so that I can cry some more. So I texted my friend and told her that we had to arrange a time to meet up because I needed to leave the house and otherwise I'd be here wasting my day away.

why?

I just saw an ad for some type of facial product/moisturiser thingy (it has to be a marker of how poor the ad is when I can't even remember the product's proper name) and the celebrity promoting it was Lindsay Lohan. I have to ask you- what would you buy because LL was there telling you how wonderful it was and how clear it's made her skin and how she loves it, yada yada yada. How could you watch such as ad without thinking, "Girl, you are such a mess, in a out of rehab for drugs and alocohol. You're a mess, you're not a role model in any way. You think my skin needs help and that fancy moisturiser can help? Girlfriend, you're the one who needs help." It just all seemed a little surreal to me...

TGIF

I headed home in a relatively ambivalent mood. It was 7.30pm. It was Friday. My work is about 10 mins from the train station and as I was waiting for my train, I went for my cell phone- which wasn't there. I looked everywhere and decided that I must have left it at work so went back to work but on my way back, realised that I had left my phone on the 2nd floor. To which I don't have keys. I kept heading back, hoping against hope that I had indeed left my phone on my desk. So I got back to the office and guess what- the cleaners were there and they have keys to teh second floor so YAY, justice triumphed, hip hip hooray. This is especially the case because this weekend is a Bank Holiday weekend, meaning that Monday is a public holiday so I would've been without my phone till Tuesday. Which would've been pretty darn traumatic.

So with this change of events, suddenly I was in a VERY good mood. Plus I've gone one week withouth chocolate. Well one working week which is good enough for me. Bring on my long weekend!

hoist by my own petard*

So I had this cunning plan to go without chocolate for a week. Just coz I can. Or rather because I fear I just can't. Our office has a large tin which is frequently full of all manner of goodies- chocolates, biccies, cakes, mini-swiss rolls, the list goes on. And since I've been working phenomenal cosmic hours and not getting to the gym, I thought I should see if I could go a week without.

Although that said, today was the only day I didn't go to the gym and that, as much as anything, is probably to blame for my foul, self-indulgent mood. Up until today, I'd had a gym break half way throuhg my day when my brain got to recharge itself, a period of time where my brain was somewhere else. But today there was so much to do that I worked all the way through which meant that by 7pm my brain was quite literally shutting down, it had nothing left. I was also in a fairly foul mood which, for some strange reason, makes me laugh at myself. It's the way I have of being able to look at my life from an eye-of-God perspective, I can laugh at myself going, "Oh, poor widdle Ayzy-kins. She didn't get to the gym today and she hasn't had any choccie all week and now she's tired and crabby and hungry and feeling sorry for herself. Boo hoo." God knows why anyone likes me, the way I take the piss out of myself, I shouldn't even like me... ;-)

I may not have chosen the best week to do my choccie boycott- print deadline looming and all. A nasty side effect of this resolution of mine is that I seem to have developed a generalised health conscience so when doughnuts were brought down to our office today, I thought it would be hypocritical to eat one when I wasn't eating chocolate. Just for the record- this is abnormal behaviour for me. I came home HUNGRY- which may have accounted for the high proportion of cheese on my omlette but hey, a girl's gotta live, right?

So here I sit watching House, just me and Lappy (oh I'm gonna miss him when Hayden takes him back...) as the flatties are out. Trying to get my brain to slow down so that tonight when I collapse on my bed, totally bodily exhausted, I actually fall asleep as opposed to having a million thoughts run through my head.

* stricly speaking this is not true because this is what the phrase really means. But I liked the sound of it so I decided to use it anyway. Live with it.

will hug for curry

It sounds like the heading for some cheesey new chick-lit book doesn't it? I can just imagine the blurb on the back of the book now: Aynia's life was bland. Finally making it in the world of graphic design she had a job she liked with people she liked but worked so hard that there seemed time for little else. The closest she got to excitement was fending off the amorous advances of the proprieter of her local Indian takeaway. Then finally the scuba diving magazine she works for sends her on a trip to the Red Sea and with the appearance of her personal dive guide, Juan, it seems that there might just be some spice in Aynia's life after all...

So I'm liberally cutting and pasting (and embellishing) different parts of my life... I know, I know, I have far too vivid an imagination and too much time on my hands- this is what happens when I can't be bothered taking my iPod out of the depths of my backpack and walk the half hour home from the train with just the company of my own thoughts. Dangerous.

In regards to amorous advances of my local Indian takeaway proprietor, well it's kinda true. Every since Kitty was here and leaned on the Indian takeaway counter after 2 pints and told the guy how they made the best curry she had tasted in a very long time and was there being all drunk and chatty and tall and blonde and then got us both hugged- well ever since then (curse you Kitbit), I have had to fend off dodgey Indian hugs which get held for just 2 seconds too long. Which is about 3 seconds too many for my liking. You know when you hug someone and go to let go and step back but they're still holding on- that. The latest instance was last night- I did my standard wave hello as I walked past on my way home from climbing and as I was getting my keys out, the guy actually came out. I got a hug hello and as a result, am in the process of perfecting my exit trategy which involves putting my hands on his shoulders as I let go, thereby pushing us away from each other which is more active than just letting go and trying to step back. I was offered free curry- or at least free dessert and, get this, I actually said no. I was thinking at the time, "What is wrong with me? Saying no to curry? Who am I and what have I done with myself?" When I got back up to the flat, Sarah and Sean couldn't believe it either.

So my conundrum is this: what do I do? If this were a pub or a club, I would have no problem telling this guy to fuck off but this is now not a stranger, it's my curry man and I know him and it'd be rude to say, "Excuse me, could you please not hug me for so long, it makes me uncomfortable?". Wouldn't it? I mean if a few hugs every now and then get us extra curry and free things and a discount, where's the harm in that? For now, I plan to perfect my exit trategy and get Sarah or Sean to do the picking up when we order curry...

So this is me signing out for tonight, the girl who will sell her body for a curry.

the coolest idea ever*

I came across this link on A Dress A Day and was struck but what a cool idea it is. I don't think I could adapt something like this to my figure (I suit a different style) but I still think it's supercutiepie. And such a nice flared skirt.

On the subject of sewing, next Monday is a bank holiday and I think I'm gonna be spending it making togas. I know, I know, all you have to do is wrap a sheet around you but I'd like to take the chance to be creative and make something a little more tailored. We'll see how it goes... So why am I interested in togas? Well one of my friends is having a birthday party in a couple of weeks and she wanted to do a dress-up and went for the toga theme. The reasoning was, she wants everyone to dress up and everyone has a sheet to nobody should have an excuse. Which I guess seems fair enough but coming from Dunedin where toga party = skanky fresher boosing fest, I have my reservations. That and I'm not the kind of person whose figure is seen in its best light when wrapped in a large white sheet... So the sheet won't be white, in fact I'm thinking the louder the pattern the better. ;-) Whilst researching various toga patterns on the web I made the schoolboy error of doing a google image search. All I can say is WTF and yep ladies, I'm pretty sure that chest hair is real.

After a weekend which has mainly consisted of 2 days of shopping (but I wasn't the one doing most of the spending so yay) I am absolutely shattered. My flatmates and I are currently sitting down in front of the tv in a vegetative state watching Troy and wooden horses made us wonder about the origins of never look a gift horse in the mouth. So I googled it (as you do) and, for those who don't know, here is, supposedly, the history behind the phrase:

Who Said It: St. Jerome
When: 400 A.D.
The Story behind It: This proverb is based on the fact that a horse's value is determined by his age, which, in turn, can be roughly determined by an examination of his teeth. The message conveyed is that a gift should be appreciated for the thought and spirit behind it, not according to its value. St. Jerome, who never accepted payment for his writings, first used the phrase in reply to his literary critics. His exact words: "Never inspect the teeth of a gift horse."

And that's all for now folks.

*given that any new thing I see that seems a bit funky has to be the new best idea ever... ;-)

dickhead me

Today I locked myself out. Yup. I went for a run before work (that'll learn me, if I hadn't done that, none of this would've happened.) and grabbed the spare keys, forgetting in my rush out the door (8am) that it isn't a complete set at the moment because we recently had some locks changed. So I got back, got through the bottom door and then stood in front of the top one as a sickening feeling grew in my stomach. Luckily for me, my friend Kez is off sick at the moment and only lives 10 mins up the road. Only thing is, I had to wait till she was up and about. So I walked, walked some more, swung on a swing, knocked on Kerry's door (no answer), walked down to the locksmith, got a quote for at least £58-75 just for the callout (and I only live 2 mins away from them so over my dead body was I paying that much to get them to let me in), walked to my local library, picked up some "quality literature" (Dr. Cowboy), read that for a while, tried Kerry's again (still no luck), headed back to the library, read some more, tried Kerry's yet again adn this time I struck gold. By this time it was midday and pretty much my first words to Kez were, "I locked myself out, I need a shower and I need food."

So needless to say, no work for me today. I called in as soon as I got to Kerry's and apparently everyone had been really worried because it's totally unlike me not to call in. When I checked my facebook, there was a message on my wall:
Aynia, can you get in touch with work?! No-one knows where you are and we're worried that you may have had some sort of flapjack making accident or something! If anyone knows where Aynia is today can they give us a call on: [xxx number supressed]. Thanks [name withheld]
and when I finally got to my phone tonight, there were missed phone calls from everyone at work who has my number. So that's all very sweet and it's good to know that if something happens to me over here, I will be missed. Although when I go in to work tomorrow, I'm pretty sure they will mercilessly take the piss out of me. (This is how I know I work with good people, I would do the same to them.)

penguins and fluff

Schmappy Feet
On Sunday I watched Happy Feet which, to be completely honest, I thought was quite a shit movie. I was only one more singing penguin away from turning off the TV and walking away when suddenly some South American-styled penguins entered the plot and suddenly things moved from potential Bathroom Brigade material to moderately amusing at times.

Ever since the stupid singing penguins though, I've had Kiss by the artist formerly known as the artist formerly known as Prince, or the artist currently known as Prince, or just Prince, if you're gonna be a boring old square about it. At any rate, it's been stuck in my head. So I had to look up the lyrics- as you do. It's an earworm, I hope you all catch it.

Not much use for the people back home
I have found a pretty darn delicious fudge recipe. The reason it won't of much use to NZers is that it uses Fluff. I came across it in a supermarket here and remembered it from living in the States and making fudge with my cousin. The result is pretty darn sweet (not a problem for this mere mortal) and the texture is (in my humble opinion) pretty near perfect. I brought some in to work and was a little alarmed that it didn't instantly disappear. People would be like, "Oh no, I couldn't have another, it's just so sweet." I was confused. Too sweet? Maybe there is something chemically wrong in my brain or physically wrong with my tastebuds because I have yet to discover something being "too sweet". I was starting to think that I was the only freak in the office who could quite happily down three pieces one after the other (but held back) until three of my fellow workers stepped up to the plate. One at 7 pieces in a row and another other might have topped up around 5. Not too shabby really.

Cake Sunday

It's been a while I know. I can't even start on explaining how busy work has been but I'll sum it up in 9 hours days (at least) with no lunch breaks- ie. veryVERY busy. So this week, my baby having gone to press, I thought I'd be able to sit back and breathe a bit but it hasn't really been the case. (Boo hoo, sob sniff oh woe is me poor widdle Aynzy-kins etc etc)

Hayden is staying at the moment and I'm sure the poor boy thinks I have no life and that all I do it come home, coma, watch tele and bake cakes. I tried to set up a monthly date where friends came around and each month it was 2 news people's turn to choose what cakes we would have. This seemed a cunning way to (1)buy friends and (2)work my way through the cook books I'd been given for Xmas. Alas through general lack of organisation and business, it hasn't been monthly but after much delay, this Sunday shall once again be Cake Sunday. I'm looking forward to it. I like baking- hell, I love baking, and this is a great excuse for me to muck in- plus I like feeding people. So roll on Cake Sunday!

So what else has been happening in the Land of A? Not a helluva lot really, I must get back on with stumbling to serve up quirky web gems and other lively bits'n'bobs to enliven your days. In fact half a tick....

Aah yes, here are some goodies:
Eagle vs Shark
Those of you in NZ have probably already heard of this gem or, dare I say, seen it (no idea when it's coming out). For this wanting-to-be-back-home-Kiwi, this film trailer is an absolute gem. Kinda Napoleon Dynamite rip-off-esque, but still, the accents alone could keep me happy for days. I will like so totally be watching this in the cinema.

Charley
For the cat lovers, this is adorable.

Have a great weekend everybody!

Sudha's Carrot Cake recipe

Having spent a panicked few minutes looking for the pieces of paper I scribbled this recipe down on, I thought I would take the wise precaution of putting it on the web so I can find it whenever I want. Little pieces of paper go walkabouts with me and I can't call my parents up every time I want to bake...

So here it is. We (my family) got this recipe from a friend and it's divine. You'd better like sultanas and the nuts are, as always, optional but this is a moist (this is the only time it's appropriate to use that word), dense (but not heavy) cake. Enjoy!

2C shredded carrot
1C sultanas
1 1/2C sugar
1 1/2C water
1/3C (125g) butter
1C plain flour
1 1/2t baking soda
1/2t of each salt, cloves, spices*
1C whole wheat flour
1t vanilla essence
1C chopped walnuts

• combine in a pan carrot, sugar, sultanas, water and butter.
• bring to boil and simmer for 5 mins.
• leave to cool**
• sift plain flour, baking soda, salt and spices in to wet mixture
• add whole wheat flour
• add vanilla and walnuts and mix well

Cook for at 180˚C for 35 mins or until cooked***

Ice as you please but I have found the best one is:
finely grate a lemon rind, add a tub of cream cheese, make sure it's soft then add in as much icing sugar as you need to get the right consistency. Vague instructions I know but I'm a handful of this, pinch of that kind of cooker. ;-)

*I just put in 1/2 of each cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg
**this will take at least 20 min depending on your pot. I never leave it to cool totally because I'm too lazy
*** I usually find this is about right although more towards the 40min mark depending on your oven. It can pay to check it at 30mins to be safe

scariest piece of spam mail yet

Good afternoon, friend!

Do you see this game? Funny flash game with nude Angelina Jolie. She sucks and... fucks! Enjoy! The game in your attachment.

Thanks.

[editor's note: I did not open the attachment]

gem of the day

bootscootinbaby.com

How exactly I got to this site is a long story. Let's just sum it up with:
"OMGthere'sawebsitecalledbootscootinbaby.com (I was talking very fast at that point) where mums can go to linedance with their kids"
[I click on the link]
"Argh! It's in comic sans!!" (Whilst also thinking to myself, "ARGH! It's also pink and has an animated gif of a baby in cowboy boots dancing.""

Make sure you check out the snapshots link. The mothers do line dancing with their babies strapped to their fronts. My boss is of the firm opinion that line dancing (and country music) are cancerous growths that should be cut out of society. I strongly disagree. Maybe living for 4 years in good ol' redneck southern states rubbed off but I say country music has its place and if I could spend an evening boot scootin' my way around a dance floor I would be in some form of heaven.

simple pleasures

To cut a long story short, 2 banners needed to be designed at work for a promo weekend we're doing at a dive site in a couple of weekends. We need the banners to go beside our stand and lucky me, I go to design them. That's not sarcasm folks, I'm fo' real lucky. This is the first large scale design work I've done and I must be a mega-design geek because the thought of standing beside two 2m high (80cm wide) banners designed by myself fills me with a warm fuzzy glow and makes me begin to drool with joy then start doing little excited jumps of joy. There's just something deliciously mouth-watering about getting to design BIG things.

Of course with this excitement comes big angst. I'm designing something on screen that is going to be 2 METERS HIGH. That is bigger than me. (Not hard to do, true, but still, bigger than me...) It's hard to know when you look at something on the screen what it'll be like at real size. But they're looking good and they're transferring to the printer now and I've checked and double checked and got other people to double check and finally, I had to just close my eyes, take a deep breath and hit 'send'.

There will be photos of me with my 2m high babies- I just hope to God there aren't any mistakes otherwise I'll be spending all weekend at the dive site looking at the muckups and obsessing over them. But I'm sure it'll be fine. The main thing to focus on is I will have made something that is 2 METERS HIGH. I go weak at the knees thinking of the chance to design a billboard...

delivering the goods

Shelly von Strucknel was in fine form the other week:

Others are complaining about errors triggered by Mercury's retrograde cycle, which continues until early next week. Those pose little problem for you, as you swiftly figure out a solution for most. The personal doubts you are tangling with are another matter, and have you wishing you could find quick solutions for them

She actually used the word retrograde- I couldn't have been happier.

sweet choice legend

We have recently acquired another Kiwi at work so we now number a grand total of 2. I derive a pure and simple pleasure from talking to my fellow countryman because although the accent is familiar, it isn't the nastier, more embarrassing variation and just the way he puts sentences together reminds me of home. It struck me this morning that although he is speaking exactly the same language as me, his sentences have a structure, and words are used in a way that would only happen back home. I love that. I miss that. I've pretty much lost that.

from the hands of babes...

this is my flatmate Sean, as drawn by his 4 year old niece:


this is me:


psychoanalyse away, we had a field day with them.

festering mass of resentment

Sometimes when you're sick and feeling sorry for yourself, the best thing to do is not to pick yourself up and carry on but rather to wallow in it for a while, swim in it till your fingers get all pruney. That's my theory at least and it's what I really wanted to do this weekend but it just didn't happen. I'm at a disadvantage anyway because my naturally sunny disposition* makes wallowing in self-pity a bit hard. I tend to end up taking the piss out of myself and making both myself and those around laugh at my cynical oh-woe-is-me approach. I didn't know if I wanted to get a really sad movie so that I could cry so hard my eyes swelled shut and I couldn't breathe properly and I felt really sorry for myself or if I wanted to fall asleep in front of action movies. I envisaged a duvet, the sofa, the TV, a shite load of popcorn and not much else. I also needed to clean my room and go through paperwork that I've been putting aside to sort through "later" for ages. My room got a little tidier but otherwise none of my vision for the weekend was to come to pass. *sob* *sniff* Instead I was inundated in babies- which usually I would love- and in fact I did love it. I mean how can you not love babies? I think what I resented was that I ended up having a weekend full of having a nice time chatting with friends and having coffee and sitting outside at the pub in the sun talking to people and, of course, making babies laugh and it was a nice weekend. But I didn't want a nice weekend. I wanted to be holed up inside on my sofa watching all of the Star Wars (the vintage versions, not the new stuff) or all the Die Hards or something with Arnie, or something to make me snot all over everything. I wanted to wallow in sickness and self-pity so that I could start the week afresh with it all out of my system. Alas it was not to be. So now I'm still sick and feeling sorry for myself and am quite the hater right now. How lucky I can laugh at myself.

*don't laugh

I know I shouldn't laugh but...

The headline on my Metro* this morning could have come from a Hiaasen novel: The rise of DIY plastic surgery. Here are a selection of the better quotes:

Obsession with celebrity culture is driving people to perform DIY cosmetic surgery, an expert warned yesterday.
In the worst case, a man gave himself a nose job with a chisel and replaced cartilage he removed with a chicken bone, according to consultant psychiatrist Dr David Veale.
Others have cut their stomachs in DIY tummy tucks, and used glue to try to pin back their ears.

Now I know I should be horrified by the impact that the media is having on our everyday life and boo-hiss to size zero models etc etc and that it's tragic that someone cuts their own stomach because they think they're fat but I'm afraid I just can't get past a guy chiseling his nose off and putting in a chicken bone. It's so horribly tragic that I can't help but laugh. Say it with me folks: WTF.

*still avoiding reading the horoscope in the morning although now that I've sworn off reading it, it is of course all I want to do. But I know that if I read it, it'll be all doomsday again and then I'll regret it. But it feels like having a scab that you know you shouldn't pick so all you want to do it pick at it. Scabby little Metro horoscopes. A pox on them all.

new hair and a touch of British class

On Friday night Kez and I went to see Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. I thought it was about as good as the first one, a work colleague of mine thought it was the most disappointing thing ever- and he has knowledge of the comic. So from an ignoramous standpoint- about the same as #1, from an aficionado point of view, superpuss. And in case you're wondering, these hot pictures of me and Kez in the hothot glasses are the 3D glasses that were provided for a Reb Bull ad that played before the movie. Probably the biggest point of note was that a couple was sitting about 4 rows in front of us and at the final fight sequence, the guy got up and left the cinema, I'm assuming to go to the loo. Then, just when everything has finished, the dude comes back in. The icing on the cake was that one of the main characters had been taken out of play for most of the grand fight finish and just as the dude goes to sit down, they come too and say, "Did I miss anything?" Oh the grand ironic comic timing. I sniggered to myself but Kerry, bless her soul, let out the loudest cackle ever- in a quiet cinema. It was gold. This picture is in here because the toilets at our local cinema are a constant source of horror stories for us. Usually there's no paper, the seats are half off the loo, there are tampons and/or pads scattered liberally and stuff clogging the loo. We use toilet paper to open the doors on the way out, we're that scared. So when we went to go to the loo before our movie on Fri night, I was suspecting the worst. We walked in and for once it was empty and (relatively) clean. But as I scoped out a suitably sterile loo, I came across this photographic gem which caused me to laugh so hard and so long that Kerry nearly left her toilet to see what all the fuss was about. I'm just glad that nobody was around so that I could take a photo of it. This snap, ladies and gents, typifies my Wimbledon Odeon experiences perfectly.

And here, at long last, are silly posey pics of my new haircut. It's the shortest yet folks.

I'm getting some fantastic morning hair with this cut. It's never quite vertical but very close to it.

I thought it bared comparison to how my hair used to look.

riddle me this Batman...

This was in a catalogue I got at work. What I can't understand is why, if your phone is on silent (when surely, of all times, you want it not to attract attention) you want a flashy rotating toy on the end of it. WTF I ask you. W T F.

kitty!

I think it must say something about how cat deprived I am that I look at this and say, in my patronising who's-a-little-coochy-coo-then voice, "Aaaw, look at the widdle kitty swimming for his dindin. Isn't he cute?" No Aynia, he is not cute. Actually, he's looking pretty f*cking ferocious and scary as hell. Here is a link to the online article.