the reunion

By now, my KittyBittyBoo should be in the country. Seeing as today is deadline day, I'm getting Sean, who has the day off, to meet her at the tube station. I've emailed them photos of each other, I'm sure they'll make it. I haven't seen my blog co-founder since Easter last year I'm ready for some shenanigans and high jinx. Just as soon as I help to tuck in the lastest issue of Dive. So look forward to many images of Kitty and Aynia Going Mad In London. Huzzah.

who'd've thought

So when I started this running malarkey, the last thing I expected was to actually enjoy it. On Sunday, Kerry and I headed out for our usual run/walk (sorry Kate, I know I've joined an anti-slash club but old habits die hard) but Kez's knee was playing up so when decided to just walk it. This seemed like a good idea except that when we got to the park I actually felt something I might label disappointment and felt quite like a dog on a leash. It was with a slight feeling of horror that I realised that I actually wanted to run. In fact, I realised that I'd even been looking forward to it. *shudder* I never thought it would happen to me. I'm not saying that I've become a die-hard-running-fan because, among other things, my body won't let me. I may get fit enough one day for that to become a problem but for now my rasping, gasping, wheezing attempts at breathing are enough to hold my new found enthusiasm in check. I guess the problem is my closet boy-racer-persona. My need for speed has teamed up with my endorphin junkie and the two of them enjoy getting high to a soundtrack of Queen and equally cheesey songs; I just don't seem strong enough to battle them. The only thing in my favour is the 7 hour sleep rule and even that isn't enough to save me at times, it's a sad state of affairs, let me tell you...

have a comic sans free day

This link was sent to me by Holly (chur chur) and sums up my attitude to Comic Sans and its usage pretty perfectly. Yes, I call it Satan's font, but that is really only because of how it is used.

In short, it's just not safe for unregulated public use. It should be handled like controlled substances or firearms, and should be used only by licensed professionals in very specific settings.

I agree. I would say that every font, now matter how fugly, can have a purpose and an appropriate time for usage. It just so happens that most people seem to think that every time is Comic Sans time which is NOT TRUE.

As for the rest of my life, I'm in Friday mode. I have a bitch of a feature still to lay out (hee hee, that sounds dirty...) but ignoring that, tonight I should have the flat to myself and I'm going to cook up some popcorn (I know, I know, I'm meant to be being good but it's Friday!) and sit back and watch Step Up.

ans of DIRTY DANCING and FAME will dig the moves in this tale of a sullen young thug named Tyler (Channing Tatum) who winds up doing community service at the Baltimore High School for the Performing Arts. At first he's just smirking and mopping the floors, but then Nora (Jenna Dewan), a talented dancer and choreographer, loses her partner to a fractured ankle mere weeks before the big showcase, and Tyler steps in as her partner. At first he doesn't take it too seriously but then again, he's never had a real chance in life. His best friend from the street (Damaine Radcliff) gets jealous and forces Tyler to decide which side of the tracks he thinks he belongs on.

Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about. Cheesearama. This is the kind of movie I would usually indulge in with my sister. In fact it's a bit weird to write that because we haven't done it in 2 years but I will always think of here when I see a movie like this. In fact I almost prefer to watch them by myself (the first time) as opposed to with friends because it's some weird little homage to my sister ritual for myself. So, Julie, know that tonight I will be eating popcorn, watching a trashy dance movie and thinking of you. I miss you hon. xox

randomness

This is what everybody needs on their computer. A Chuck Norris Widget. Oh yeah, it's so cool it's ice cold baby. This widget lets me happily snigger away to myself throughout the day and occasionally call our IT guy (who sent me the link) to share a gem. We have caller ID on our phones so I don't feel the need to say it's me. I don't even bother with polite preliminaries, I cut straight to the chase, "Some people eat frog legs. Chuck Norris eats lizard legs, hence snakes." Oh the comic genius!

man or woman?
Every morning I walk 25 mins to the overland train station because the walk is good for me and quite nice and actually faster than catching the bus. This means that every morning I see the same crossing guard at the intersection by the roundabout. Living in a big city where everyone ignores everyone and anonymity is the name of the game, I like trying to bring my small town Dunedin feel to things so I make a point of smiling at my crossing guard and saying good morning and on Fridays I wish him a good weekend. The him part has only recently been confirmed though. For all of winter my crossing guard was bundled up like Kenny- I swear to God- except in a fluro high-viz jacket instead of orange so there wasn't much face to see and between the voice being muffled and me having my iPod going, there were very few tells. Some days I cross on the opposite side of the road but when I finally got a close-up view I decided that based on the bushy eyebrows, my crossing guard had to be a man and I am pleased to say that with the warm weather this has now been confirmed.

more crazy people at my gym
The other day on the treadmill, this solidly built guy with tattoos up his arms was running wearing a grey hooded cut-off styled t-shirt- with the hood up. As if this weren't enough, he would occasionally 'shadow-box' at the mirror as he ran. This did not seem like the kind of mo-fo to mess with so I restrained from my range of preferred reactions: (1) laugh out loud (2) snigger, progress to #1 and point (3) make loud comments to anyone who would listen about how all the Rocky movies were GAY (I've never seen one and in fact I want to but seeing people shadow box on the treadmill with their hood up brings out the shit-stirrer in me) and finally (4) hop on the treadmill beside him and every time he did a boxing move, mimic it. Failing that, just run along on the treadmill beside him singing Eye of the Tiger. But I like being alive and unmutilated so I left it. I'm such a pansy.

This is what everybody needs on their computer. A Chuck Norris Widget. Oh yeah, it's so cool it's ice cold baby. This widget lets me happily snigger away to myself throughout the day and occasionally call our IT guy (who sent me the link) to share a gem. We have caller ID on our phones so I don't feel the need to say it's me. I don't even bother with polite preliminaries, I cut straight to the chase, "Some people eat frog legs. Chuck Norris eats lizard legs, hence snakes." Oh the comic genius!

man or woman?
Every morning I walk 25 mins to the overland train station because the walk is good for me and quite nice and actually faster than catching the bus. This means that every morning I see the same crossing guard at the intersection by the roundabout. Living in a big city where everyone ignores everyone and anonymity is the name of the game, I like trying to bring my small town Dunedin feel to things so I make a point of smiling at my crossing guard and saying good morning and on Fridays I wish him a good weekend. The him part has only recently been confirmed though. For all of winter my crossing guard was bundled up like Kenny- I swear to God- except in a fluro high-viz jacket instead of orange so there wasn't much face to see and between the voice being muffled and me having my iPod going, there were very few tells. Some days I cross on the opposite side of the road but when I finally got a close-up view I decided that based on the bushy eyebrows, my crossing guard had to be a man and I am pleased to say that with the warm weather this has now been confirmed.

more crazy people at my gym
The other day on the treadmill, this solidly built guy with tattoos up his arms was running wearing a grey hooded cut-off styled t-shirt- with the hood up. As if this weren't enough, he would occasionally 'shadow-box' at the mirror as he ran. This did not seem like the kind of mo-fo to mess with so I restrained from my range of preferred reactions: (1) laugh out loud (2) snigger, progress to #1 and point (3) make loud comments to anyone who would listen about how all the Rocky movies were GAY (I've never seen one and in fact I want to but seeing people shadow box on the treadmill with their hood up brings out the shit-stirrer in me) and finally (4) hop on the treadmill beside him and every time he did a boxing move, mimic it. Failing that, just run along on the treadmill beside him singing Eye of the Tiger. But I like being alive and unmutilated so I left it. I'm such a pansy.

personality goes a long way

Marie mentioned this personality test on her blog and I have to admit, I'm a huge fan of these things. They're funny and they're great time wasters. On further searching the site, I found the following two tests which appealed to me.

1- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST
I am:

Pure Geek
39 % Nerd, 52% Geek, 21% Dork
A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.

You scored better than half in Geek, earning you the title of: Pure Geek.
It's not that you're a school junkie, like the nerd, and you don't really stand out in a crowd, like the dork, you just have some interests that aren't quite mainstream. Perhaps it's anime, perhaps it's computers, perhaps it's bottlecaps, perhaps it's all of those and more. Your interests take you to events and gatherings that are filled with people you find unusual and beyond-the-pale, but you don't quite consider yourself "of that crowd." Instead, you consider yourself to be fairly normal.

2-THE 4-VARIABLE BUFFY PERSONALITY TEST
I'm not totally happy with this result but here it is:

Dawn Summers
72% amorality, 63% passion, 63% spirituality, 54% selflessness
Dawn is a person driven by her love for her friends and her desire to make a difference. Perhaps you are, too. You're willing to do whatever is necessary to do what is right for those you care about, and sometimes this can get you in a little bit of trouble.
Most of all, however, you have a heart of gold.

I wanna make a supersonic woman of you

My list of things I want to write about has now reached such epic proportions that blogging is no longer a pleasure but a chore, or rather the thought of having to do it is. So what do I do? I procrastinate. Duh. Like what else would a girl do when faced with a daunting task. I'm sure as hell not starting in on it- oh wait, here I am, starting. Hmm... go figure.

my friend is famous
His name is in cyberprint for research he is doing. I think this is cool. I also like that I have a friend who works with lasers because ever since Austin Powers, I haven't been able to hear that word without at least smiling. 'Lay-zer'. Oh the hilarity.

what gets you through the day
I am trying to go for a run in the morning before work. I say trying because it doesn't happen as much as I wish. I have come to the conclusion that waking up at 6am is just not going to happen if I get to sleep at midnight or later. This girl needs a solid 7 hours to function and left to my own devices I tend to cap at 8. And even with 7 hours under my belt, I still start my run/walk with a squinting , bleary-eyed, drooling shuffle that makes me resemble a zombie more than it does a live human being. I walk (shuffle/drool) my way to the park nearby which is really 2 smallish separated ruby/football fields and once I get to field, I start to run. I try to do 2 laps with a small walk in-between (a girl needs to breathe) and I'm aiming to just run eventually. Let me state for the record now that I am not a runner. I am not the stuff that running is made of. I enjoy sprinting. I like the feeling of speed. I like going fast. Unfortunately I don't actually go that fast because I am but a wee thing with short legs but still, sprinting I enjoy. But running- no way josé. So why am I doing it? Well it seems like a good idea at the time. I need something cardio so running's it really and it ain't that bad once the endorphins kick in, which they do with the assistance of my super cheesey choice of music. I firmly believe that if I'm going to huff, puff, and wheeze my way around a sports ground, I'm going to do it in style. Which for the past couple of mornings has meant Queen. The superduperclichéloving freak buried not-so-deep inside me finds a perverse sense of satisfaction from gleaning inspiration and meaning from such songs as Fat Bottom Girls and Don't Stop Me Now. I often wonder what people might think if they knew that I was making my running death-wheezing noise to the beat of Another One Bites the Dust...

why dresses are evil

This is why I don't wear dresses. I mean look what happens. (My friend Rose send me more photos from the ball...) I feel all feminine and liberated and sure, there may have been some alcohol involved but I turn in to a crazy beast in black.


Also I hug everyone. Poor Andy, he was very tolerant.


And here is looks like I've stripped poor Kez down and am hugging her naked...


dress + alcohol + crazy Aussie Jen = hugging and freaky photos


Me hugging Rose.

shame on me

It was only through skimming over Hamish's blog far too rapidly that I realised that Critic's website has changed. Nice one Noever, bit slow on the uptake there, never mind... Now I know I'm biased, because Critic consumed my life for 1 1/2 years and like any mother, I will always hold a fondness for my baby, even if now it's somebody else's baby... Anyway, to get to the point, I'm still awaiting a car package with issues of year's Critic (do you hear me David Large? Where are they?) but the website looks very nice and sleek and cool and feels like it has more than the previous one and is better to navigate. Props all round. And the covers are looking cool too, at some stage I'll get off my lazy ass and confront the beast that is virtual Critic so see what the contents are like but I won't have to do that if Dave actually follows through and sends them to me. NudgenudgewinkwinkknowhatImeansaynomore. All that praise aside though, I have to agree with Hamham's feedback.

But go, check it out: www.critic.co.nz. It rocks the party.

my mummy is supercool

The only thing better than coming back from holiday at 00.30 and finding that your flatmates have taken the bedsheets you washed and hung out to dry while you were on holiday and made your bed for you so that all you have to do is jimjam up and pass out, is arriving at work the next day and finding a package from your mum with a pretty dress in it and an absolutely stunning necklace with matching earrings. She loves me, she wants to pamper me, she misses me big time. (All with Miss Congeniality intonation. Of course.) It's like an unbirthday and an unChristmas all in one. Whoopee!!!

THANKS MUM YOU'RE THE BEST!!

I'll post decently about Portugal soon but right now, there's work to do.

more ball pics

Not the best of photos (of me) but this is the all the girls and doubles as photographic proof that I have worn a dress. For the benefit of the nosey people, left to right, back row: Kerry, Jen, Di, Rose, Kirsten; front row: Heike, me, Tania


And here are the boys. We're missing Phil, the whole reason we went to this thing (it was his rugby club's ball) but left to right: Andy, Alan, Martin, Greg and Tobi


Me and Phil, oh but I'm a hopeless camera whore when it comes to cheesey glam shots...

apparently I'm a drama nerd....

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Drama Nerd   You sure do love the spotlight and probably have a very out-going and loud personality. Or not. That's just a stereotype, of course. Participation in the theatre is something to be very proud of. Whether you have a great voice for musicals, or astounding skills for dramas/comedies; keep up the good work. We need more entertainment these days that isn't television and video games (not that these things are bad, necessarily.)
Artistic Nerd
Literature Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Musician
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Anime Nerd
Social Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

brain go byebye

This week marks week 3 of me putting in phenomenal cosmic hours at work. As in lots. But I prefer the term 'phenomenal cosmic hours' because it sounds like 'powers' which makes me sound like a super hero. Which is all good. It also reminds me of the quote from Aladdin, which I'm sure nobody gets, "Phenomenal cosmic powers and an itty bitty little living space." Aaah, personal in-jokes, you gotta love them...

Tomorrow I fly out to Portugal for Easter so I don't know that I'm going to get a chance to do all the blogging I should before I go. For now all I have the energy for is to post this one picture form the ball I was at on Sat night. Hopefully I'll get a chance to write something decent about it before tomorrow.

mix'n'match

other things I don't get
- people who climb in jeans: coz that'll be comfy. Not.
- boys who wear jeans hanging over half way down their ass: how do they stay up? My friend Kerry has a theory about this- seeing as the jeans sit well below the hip, she says there can't be anything to hold the jeans up apart from their man-bits and she says this must cause terribly chafing. I think about this when I see hip young teenage boys with a good 15cm of boxers showing above their jeans. One day I may even gather up the courage to ask one exactly what holds their pants up.

the little things
My friend Marie is currently posting on the progress of her wedding dress (or rather what she will be wearing at her wedding). I'm quite enjoying the intrigue of colour selections, material choices, buttons, trim, etc, etc. I like finishing detail choices. In one of her latest posts though, she mentions an overnight bag she bought and this is what she wrote:

When I was trying to decide between this selection of colours and the green colourway, the woman in the shop asked me, to help me make my choice, "What colour is your suitcase?" I found this question almost as perplexing as if she had asked, "Do you own any frogs?". The colour of my suitcase, if I had one even, is not in any way related to my choice of overnight bag.

Now Marie, I don't mean to diss you but how can your choice of suitcase NOT effect your selection of overnight bag?! Does everyone not colour coordinate when they can? How can they not? I did stop to wonder if maybe this is just an Aynia Problem. I know that it can get a bit out of control- take my climbing gear for instance. I like it to match. Shoes and chalk bag are both ochre and black. I have two screw gauges and ATCs but I use the ones that are gold and black, not the red and silver ones. My harness is green and black and it gives me sleepless nights* that no climbing accessories seem to exist in the same mossy green shade to help me balance up the green in my collection. But I digress, back to the bag. If you don't have a suitcase then of course you can't match the bag to it but if you can't decide between two colourways and you do have a suitcase, what's the harm in choosing to match? NONE.

I was also initially surprised that Marie didn't have a suitcase. I was all, "How can she hot have a suitcase?! That's impossible?" Well it's not really, at least not in NZ. Over here, everyone has suitcases because everyone travels a fair amount. Small wheely suitcases are everywhere. But back in NZ, the hiking pack is more common, or larger backpacks. Suitcases, not to much. I guess it's just a lifestyle thing. In an airport, the people with suitcases, no matter how large, will usually be European and probably American. People lugging massive hiking packs will usually be from Aussie or NZ. This can, of course, differ depending on the age demographic and purpose of the trip but on the whole, I think it stands true.

Also, please note my use of the term 'hiking pack'. I cannot for the life of me now say 'tramping pack' or, for that matter, use the word 'tramping' at all. Being over here has put a new perspective on the word for me. How can I possible say, "When I was on a tramp once..." or "when I was tramping one time" without starting to snigger. I mean it's just dirty.

*okay, so I may be exaggerating a little bit

typical

If I were truly paranoid/superstitious, I would wonder if my declaration not to have chocolate for the rest of the week has jinxed my week. That or Fate happened to be eavesdropping at the time, heard me declare I could make it through the rest of the week without any choccie and rubbed her hands with glee and she went, "Oh yeah? Try this on for size Little Miss Chocoholic."

Without going in to detail, because I don't when it involves work, let's just say that suddenly I'm having to handle a multi-tasking bonanza and am so busy that I can't even get to the gym and I've become quite dependent on my midday endorphin fix so today my brain can't clear itself and I'm feeling a bit stressed. Last week was worse but I was ready for it. This week just snuck up behind me with a baseball bat (a reoccurring theme in my life you may notice...), the sneaky little sh*t.

I am going climbing tonight (please God don't let Fate hear that) so at least I'll get to work some of the aaaaaargh out of my system.

things I don't understand
and finally... some random things going through my head on the walk to work this morning
- socks and sandals: WTF?
- inability to use apostrophes: unacceptable
- putting mascara on before going diving: I don't care if it's waterproof or not. WTF?
- women who wear so much fake tan and makeup that they look orange: do they not look in the mirror?
- someone who doesn't much like chocolate or sweet things in general: this person is very hard for me to bribe. Usually I preface favours with the promise of cake or biccies. When I can't offer this I don't know what to do...

TFIF*

crazy woman at the gym
There is a crazy woman at my gym. In fact there's probably more than one but Ms. Transylvania (as I have named her) is as crazy as I'd like to meet. I'm minding my own business one day in the change rooms when suddenly there is this dramatic cry oh 'Oh my GOD! How tragic!" I turned around and this largish woman with a headband/turban made of toilet paper is standing on the other side of the room who proceeded to tell me and the lady standing beside me that 2 months from that day, in 2 year's time she would be 70. "It just hit me darling! 70! Oh it's horrible!" Now I may be in the UK but she sure ain't British and I was trying to place her accent and it finally hit me- she has that melodramatic way of drawing out her vowels (esp the word daaaarling, which she sprinkled liberally throughout her dialog) that made me think of some old-style Transylvania accented vampire. Luckily she focused on the lady beside me who was just about to turn 60 ("Oh but daarling that is nothing! I've been there, 60 is fantastic!") so I just turned my back and got on with getting changed.

feminism today
I got one of those forwarded mail humour things from a friend entitled 'female self esteem' and a couple of the things actually made me smile and so I share them with you now:
- we know all our kids are ours
- we have priority in a ship wreck
- we are the first hostages to go free
All three are good and valid points. ;-) And the last two points tie in quite nicely with my theory of modern feminism: there's no harm in letting a guy do it for you. I can be independent and self-reliant but there's nothing wrong with letting a male help you if you can't do it and if they offer to help but you can do it yourself, why not let them do it? It makes them feel good and saves you some effort. Everybody wins.

the aftermath
On Thursday I went climbing for the first time since getting back from my bungee experience. Now usually I would consider myself a fairly fearless climber (which I would argue is fairly easy way to be when you're top-roping. I'm sure once I'm putting the rope up myself and there's more slack in it and the falls are larger, I'll be more cautious) and am happy to jump for things and if I think I'm going to fall, I'll just tell my belayer so that they're ready for it. I don't mind the fall, as far as I'm concerned, I have faith in my equipment and my climbing buddy so nothing should go wrong. But Thursday was a little different. The first time I was being let down after finishing a climb, my knot tightened and the rope creaked, as it always will, and suddenly I had to fight this urge to grab on to the wall. It happened again later on when I was taking a break and sitting back on the rope and I thought to myself, "This is because of that bloody bungee jump." And it was. With knots tightening and things creaking, I suddenly had that memory of that feeling of free-fall, that stomach-almost-in-your-mouth feeling, that ohmyGodI'mabouttodie feeling. But I fought it and later on, when I took an unexpected fall (and usually I have an idea when I'm about to pop off the wall) I was perfectly fine. Nevertheless, I found it really interesting that I had residual bungee issues lurking in my psyche.

more crazy lady
I am writing this in installments throughout the day so now it's post-lunch and CRAZY LADY WAS THE THE GYM AGAIN. I've decided that she is my new fav crazy person because the stuff that comes out of her mouth is just gold. Today she was talking to a 'friend' about gardening: "Oh daarling, you know What'shername, ugly as sin, poor thing but her enthusiasm is so infectious, and she knows everything about gardening, she is just adorable." This woman actually manages to talk in italics, it's amazing.

*think TGIF but with more swearing

one small step for mankind, one giant leap for Aynia

I BUNGY JUMPED!


This weekend I went to the Outdoors Show in Birmingham with work as we had a stand there and the people on the stand beside us were willing to give us free bungy jumps so before my sanity could stop me, I signed up (and then got to wait a good half hour), got taken up 60m and got pushed out of a cage to hurtle down 45m and bounce around a few times.


I'm not scared of heights but I do have a healthy respect for my personal safety and all the way up in the cage I was looking around and going, "Wow, you can see everything from here, this view is amazing." but when it got to the point where I was standing on the edge of the cage I looked down and thought, "Oh my God, this is The Most Stupid Idea I've Had EVER". The guy said to me, "Don't worry, I'll count you down from three and I looked at him and said, "Like bollocks you will" and he got as far as two then pushed me. I KNEW IT.

It was incredible, I'll give it that. But I was also quite quite happy to have it over and done with. I definitely had an ohmyGodIalmostdied high at the end but that bottomless feeling as you plummet earthwards, it's quite bloody scary. Like fucking scary. And in fact, as I got pushed off, the first word to come tearing out of my mouth was 'fuck'. Luckily, it got as far as 'fu...' because Mum, you will be glad to know that even as I was hurtling towards certain death, the thought crossing my mind was, "Oh no Aynia, think of your mother, you can't swear all the way down, how uncouth." So I swallowed it. I could quite happily have heartily yelled fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck all the way though. Instead I had to settle for a mangled 'argh'.

idols

This woman is a legend. This is the kind of mum I want to be.

On the other hand, a woman with true class (in the etiquette-book, not socioeconomic, sense of the word) would probably not have taught her flu-stricken daughter to lick her wrist and then throw back the little cup of cough medicine like a tequila shot. Four-year-old Nora's dose is now too big for the baby syringe, and during this last illness I got tired of her taking eensy sip after eensy sip while complaining about the taste. So I demonstrated the proper technique with salt and my own wrist and a shot glass of water, and told her that "this is how people quickly drink something that tastes bad." (But tequila tastes GOOD! protested my brain. Be quiet brain, we're trying to parent over here.) Nora is a sucker for procedures and processes, so she learned the routine and now knocks 'em back like a big girl. We skip the lime, that's just empty vitamins.

Whatever. She is allowed to be angry, and she does pretty well with just going in her room and getting over it, which takes all of five minutes with the preschool attention span. If I need her to get over it right now (public place, guests in the house, etc), we have had some luck with a modified headstand to "dump the angry out," and then we pretend that there is a big gooey pile of angry on the floor, and I usually pretend to step in it and get it all over my shoe, ick gross, and if the situation is really desperate I am not above taking a big comedy pratfall in the slippery angry goop, because nothing is funnier than adult incompetence. Except maybe poop in a bag.

I do actually have other things to write about but I suspect I'll memo them in a draft to come back to next week when I have time.* But for now, it's Friday and I'm about to grab curry for dinner and then go see a friend's kittens (kittens! YAY!!!!). That's how to close a week.

*HA! As if. Given that my boss is away next week and I'm pretty much manning the fort and I'm meant to get most of the mag done in a week when we usually get about 4, yada yada yada, oh woe is me, time, let alone spare time, is not something I expect to be seeing a lot of...

but Golidlocks like many freaks, does not appreciate antiques

My Dad just blogged a whole set of hilarious pictures of burrowing owls inspired by a picture I emailed him recently. I've probably picked up my fondness for owls from my dad but I do have to say, they're pretty cool birds. The eyes- hilarious- and these burrowing ones seem to have a tendency to hang around standing on one leg which also seems to amuse me to no end.

I will also take this opportunity to tell you all to scroll down and keep checking previous entries as I did a whole bunch of 'drafts' on Egypt and am updating and posting them as I can.

Reading my dad's blog also drew my attention to the fact that I have a new Fables that I need to read which means getting back on Amazon which will be the undoing of me. Living in the UK, they have this thing whereby if you buy items to the value of £15 or more, you get free delivery. Now delivery isn't much at all but of course once you're on the site, its impossible to fight the urge to go, "Oh well there's no point in buying just one book, I should get another one (or two) to make it up to the free delivery amount." It happens every time and I KNOW I'm being suckered in but I just can't help it- mainly because buying more books does not feel like a waste of money. So now I'm off to Amazon to get me some literature. Whoopee!

the coolest thing in the world EVER

So I was wrong. This is the link I should have dedicated to Julie and Philip. I watched this with a look of joy and awe on my face. It's like totally superultraübermega cool.