bloomin' marvellous

I came home from Barcelona to find that my garden had gone crazy in my absence. The sunflowers I had left as seeds were as tall as my middle finger (and they're about as tall as my hand by now) and my lillies were finally starting to come out. For the record, I am not a fan of pink- at least not in clothing- (I did that unto death up to the age of almost 10 and judging from photos at the age of 7 or 8, all I owned was pink clothing...) but when it comes to plants I am just crazy in love with pink. So coming home to this hot pink lilly was pretty gosh darn cool. We'd bought a bag of mixed bulbs so had no idea what colours would come up. It seems I have red and pink ones and Mother Nature is the only entity I would forgive for this faux pas colour combination.


Pink lillies


Red lillies


And finally- my chilli plants. Check these bad boys out. Everywhere there are those little white buds- well potentially they can be chillies. And I have four plants- I think I'm gonna have to learn how to dry them.

happy birthday to me

I got several lovely cards for my birthday but this had to be my fav. Every time I look at it I snigger. Some of my friends know me freakishly well...


My birthday this year almost felt like a non-event as it was the first year that I haven't planned a party or gone out for dinner or cooked a fancy dinner myself for friends. Dinner had been booked a while ago for the night before my birthday and since Kerry's birthday is 5 days before mine and we were going out for dinner with most of our friends, we figured that it could count as the birthday event. [Please note that in the picture to the left, I am holding a musical cake slice. Oh yes. What was I saying about my friends knowing my freakishly well? I am also using my hand to hold back double chins to show how good my jawline can look when not impeded by me throwing my head back or pulling my chin in when I laugh.] As a result the actual day itself was very laid back. I did a yoga workshop (which left me almost immobilised in my upper body for several days. It is only now that I can reach around to scratch my back again.)

not enough hours in the day

I've worked out that to keep up to date on all the blogs I'm interested in or even just at least the ones written by my friends and check emails and keep in touch with people I'm meant to and maybe even have the luxury of getting to blog myself, I would need at least an hour a day. Realistically something close to 2. Which is a lot of time- and I don't have it. So here is a blanketing apology to everyone I should be writing to whom I haven't and maybe, just maybe, I'll get to blog tomorrow.(As if.)

oh well

I had the best of intentions- come home, pack, watch Little Miss Sunshine, clean the flat and blog about Portugal then sleep. Exactly how I thought I'd fit all that in I don't know... All I do know is that I intend to try to shut my eyes for an hour and a bit and then I have to get on my way. So no piccies of Portugal for you lot. I also don't imagine I'll be blogging much whilst in Spain but we shall see.

Peace out.

olé!

So yes, I have to post all about Portugal and yes, I haven't even posted about my last trip to Portugal but for now, even the impending excitement of Barcelona has been temporarily eclipsed but Brussels. Yeah. Who'd've thought? I'm going to Brussels for a supershort weekend at the end of June and really only because one of my friends needs a visa for trip to Italy in July but can't get an Italian one so is hoping to get a 3 month shengen one*. Not that that really matters to anyone but us so anyway- I was going along because it was somewhere new to see and I thought the food should be good but had no idea what there was to see and wasn't too excited until my friend sent me this link. A comic strip museum in a building built by Victor Horta?!!! Oh my God yes! Out pops my inner supergeek. I loveloveLOVE seeing places I've studied or buildings by the people I've studied. Or chairs by them or anything else. It's way cool and makes me way happy. Oh my God there's even a whole Victor Horta Museum. Soooooooooooooooooo cool. My friends may not want to go but I am so there. Yay yay yay.

how about you just drive the car?
On my train the other night there was a man in a suit reading a user manual for a Mercedes Benz. With a bookmark. WTF?

stumbling again
It's been a while since I've given any cool links to check out so this should make up for it a bit:

COOL 3M AD
WHY NOT TO THROW PAPERCLIPS AT WORK
POLITICS EXPLAINED- I'm sure everyone's had this email forwarded around at some point but I still find it amusing.
BENDER CURIOSITIES if you're a Futurama geek then this will make you stare in awe. You are not an übergeek fan in comparison to the people who made this site.
COOL CLOCK
NICE AFRICA IMAGES
LEONARDO DA VINCI DRAWINGS ever since first seeing his sketches, I have been in love with this man's work. Not so much his paintings but the sketches- I could look at them forever.
THIS ART REMINDS ME OF SCHOOL DIARAMAS.
CLEVER HOMES- I liked the models of the houses

*travelling as a Kiwi is so easy but if you're a South African, everything is a hassle and needs a VISA.

sniffle snuffle snot- again

I am currently wallowing in full-blown oh-woe-is-me-ness. This can't just be hayfever. Have I finally succumbed to a version of what has been making the rounds of my friend's flat? I hope not. I have four rainy days to look forward to in Portugal and at the moment not even the thought of going all pruney in the jacuzi makes me feel better because my brain is leaking down the back of my throat, I have soggy cotton wool in my sinuses, my face is exploding and I feel like a whale. Man but I'm good at being grumpy. AND my flight tomorrow is at God-awful-early-o'clock in the morning so that I might as well not even bother going to sleep at all. And I forgot my camera yesterday so no pictures of cute baby animals. BA HUMBUG.

here comes the sun

You're telling me this is a toy?

Yeah...I dunno aye. You can see more of these creations and similar things on superdeux.com. [FYI: I think this is a cool site just in general. Funky little intro animation, nice layout, good material, yada yada yada.] There are quite a lot of these 'toy' things out at the moment, I'm just not sure how well the term 'toy' is sitting with me. To me a toy is something you play with and the thought of kids sitting down and playing house with these things disturbs me a bit. Yeah, yeah, I know, they're toys for adults but they're not getting played with then, are they? I mean I do think they're cool and fun and funky and some are cute and not scary but to me they're design objects, not toys. But where's the line?

learning the hard way
I'm looking after the horse-sized "kitten" again before I go to Portugal for the weekend (bad weather forecast, don't want to talk about it, why does it always rain when I go to Portugal and why do I not get the hint?!) and there is a park nearby so last night I decided to go for a wonder. I decided at the last minute not to bring my camera because it's just a park right? What's to see. Oh boy was I wrong. This 'park' is AMAZING. I saw deer (yup, you'd best believe) and lots of birds- with babies, and rabbits and squirrels. Now I know an instinctive Kiwi reaction when hearing rabbit is to spit to the side and reach for a gun or a club but these guys were CUTE (plus they're not a pest here) and I had great fun trying to find all their little homes. It was just incredible, this place was like some Eden with all these animals roaming around not really too scared of the people. So today after work I'm geeking it up, hopping on Jane's bike (yep, this park is huge and I'm going exploring), taking my camera and the bread that's going mouldy and will venture forth in search of photo opportunities of supercute baby birdies (the only ones I'm likely to get close enough to because I can bribe them with food) and miscellaneous wildlife. I'm hoping for deer. I'm also quite, quite geekily excited about the whole thing. Hopefully I'll have glorious nature pics tomorrow.

lest we forget
This blog is about me. Well it is now that Kitty's gone solo and right now I'm doing my darndest to wallow in oh-woe-is-me-ness (which is hard when it's gloriously sunny and I'm going on a nature safari after work) because I have a horrible cold- that is unless it's actually even more horrible hayfever. I currently feel like someone has chiseled in the my brain via my sinuses and then stuffed with with cotton wool except they missed a bit because some of my brain fluid is leaking down the back of my throat. Yummy. That said though, I was in a pretty foul mood when I woke up this morning and my eyes were so puffy I could hardly see out (this indicates hayfever) this morning but now I'm finding that the sunshine and the thought of seeing baby animals tonight plus a bike ride is making me way to Suzy Sunshine to be grumpy.

pushing the envelope

good old Dunners
This picture was posted on my father's blog and all I can say is what the hell? Discovering that had to add a surreal touch to his day...

did nobody watch Dark Angel?

Scientists want to fuse human cells with animal eggs to create mixed-species embryos

Yup, you heard me. Read more here. This is a topic where I could potentially rabbit on for ages because it is such a can or worms. But I think we really are starting to head in to a time where things written of not so long ago are starting to happen fo' real. But because I don't have enough time to go in to this topic in any depth right now, I'll be brief: I understand that genetic research is, on some level, "necessary" but I also firmly believe that humans are far too curious and will fiddle with things as much as they can and eventually fuck them up. In actual fact I am super-torn on this issue. The tree-hugging-hippie part of me wants to say, "There's a cycle to things and we're made the way we are for a reason* so why mess with the fundamental nature of things? You're screwing with the fabric of the universe in a way." The other part tells me that that is an incredibly naive point of view and that things are far more complicated than that and that some of this fiddling with the fundamentals is necessary. And while those two are fighting it out, I have a third person on the sideline watching in amusement but who is thinking: This is all well and good and they might say that if you can mix animal and human DNA to make a combo embryo that it's illegal to let it grow to the point where it's a "real" personimal** but if it can be done someone will do it. Why? Because they can. Because it's human nature. Because we're envelope pushers. And I really do believe that that in the end we're going to f*ck ourselves over because of it. Curiosity killed the cat? HA! Cats have nothing on us...

* which is where my inner existentialist sniggers, then thinks better of it, coughs politely to get my attention and says with a sceptically raised eyebrow, "A reason? As in a greater purpose? As in a grand design? As in exactly that which you have decided doesn't exist?" At this point I wrinkle my nose, squint my eyes and tell it to piss off. This is more about balance which is a different kettle of fish all together. My IE looks at me with both eyebrows raised now, clearly believing that I'm taking the easy way out of this debate. Which I am. So sue me.

** a whole can of worms I'm not even gonna open right now but I ask you (and I haven't even decided my own personal answer on this one)- at what point does it become a "real boy"?

cats & cake

Last Friday I went to see Cats at the Wimbledon Theatre. I really thought I liked Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals. I was prepared to overlook The Woman In White (*shudder* I try not to think of it) because I'd seen Jesus Christ Super Star and Phantom of the Opera, and Evita (some just as films but still...) and liked them all but for some reason I just didn't really seem to warm to Cats. I knew it was based on poems by T.S. Eliot but personally I just didn't think it hung together. Where was the plot? As far as I could see, it was about a bunch of cats, we got introduced to some different characters, one was a bit tragic, crisis hit in the disappearance of the cat leader but he was returned safe and sound and at the end the tragic kitty went towards the light. Bleh. I just didn't care. Cat leader disappears- who cares? Cat leader returned- whoop-dee-f*cking-do. Tragic cat character- not so tragic to me. I mean it was all nice enough but the whole thing just left me a bit unmoved.

I also find that initially I take a bit of warming to a musical. It's like the first time they start doing that talk/singing thing my brain goes, "What?! Why don't they just sing or just talk? Why are they talking but almost singing? Soooooooooooo naff." If it's a good musical, I tend to be able to just take it in my stride after a while but if it's not, well it ruins it all for me.

I'm currently watching the end of Pride and Prejudice (the BBC version, the only real one)- I watched the 2nd three episodes as I made dinner and then two banana cakes. I happened to mention to Kez on our walk that I was making one tonight and she asked with a winsome smile if I'd use their old bananas too and make them one too and I'm not the kind of girl to deny someone cake. Speaking of which, I should go check the oven... Toodles.

no zzz for me

I had planned to get an early night but here I am watching the final of season 2 of Grey's Anatomy (I know, I know, the UK is waaaaaaaaaay behind) and indulging in a beer. Lotte went to a NZ store and brought me a Monteith's Raedler. Mmm... yummy. It's more gingery than I remember though- still, good beer. I am all alone for 3 weeks now as Sarah and Sean have taken off to China and it's a little weird to be kicking around here all on my lonesome. Stalkers take note, now is the time to bust your move. Just please bust it with chocolate and flowers, I like chocolate and flowers. And make sure you knock because already I am getting way to comfortable and doing anti-social things like leaving the door open when I go to the bathroom.


Last night Kitty and I went out for dinner for my friend Lauren's 30th. When we got back we ended up pulling an all-nighter because she was due to fly out at 6.50am which meant leaving here at 3.30am. Hence no point in sleeping. I even took the bus with her to Clapham because she hadn't done it before and it was 3.30 on a Sunday morning and when we got on the bus oh boy was I glad that I'd decided to accompany her. There were drunk people on that bus, loud drunk people which, when you think about it, makes sense because 3.30 on a Sun morn is also the end of a Sat night. And the last thing a girl needs when catching a bus to a destination you've never been at 3.30am is the added worry and distraction of obnoxious drunk men when you're all on your lonesome. And then we get to Clapham and the train's been canceled but justice triumphed and we got it sorted and Kitty got off just fine and I got to head home and sleep.

But no sleeping in for me, today was museum with Lotte day who is heading back to NZ at the end of June so is starting to try to tick things off her list of places=to=see that you never seem to get around to when you actually live here. So today was the Childhood Museum and the Museum of London. The MoL was pretty standard stuff but I really liked the Childhood Museum (oh shit, seems that Romeo Must Die is on after Grey's and you should all know by now what a martial arts/action movie whore I am. How can I go to bed when there's cheese like that to watch? Now I'm never going to catch up on my sleep.) which is full of toys and boardgames and everything from your childhood, in fact everything from everyone's childhood since, like, forever. Some things totally cracked me up like examples of early typographers and some seriously freaky-assed dolls.


These are two examples of early typographers learning the hard way. Come on, don't laugh too hard, we've all done it before. Maybe I really am a typography geek but I just found these two pics waaaaaay cute.



From the plaque:Pregnant Doll, 1992Here is a pregnant doll with a baby you can deliver- but it's not much like real life! When the baby is removed you can put a flat stomach back on the doll. Made in China. WTF?! "Put on a flat stomach." We wish. As if it's that easy.


From the plaque:Blythe, 1972 Blythe was only made for one year. If you pull the cord on her back her eyes change colour five times. She was designed by Marvin Glass & Associates for Kenner. Now maybe it's just me but I find Bythe just a bit scary. And imagine if those eyes changed colour five times... FREAK OUT!


A doll house for boys- a butcher shop. The vege in me was a smidge revolted.


And this one chuffed Lotte. Bricks named after her!

And finally, some interesting info about Barbie: Did you know? Barbie was closely modelled on Lilli, an earlier German fashion doll. As a model, she wore a risqué striped swimsuit, a pair of while high heels, and sunglasses. Barbie's full name is Barbara Millicent Roberts. She has had 5 sisters, 43 pets and over 80 careers. She has been produced in more than 45 nationalities and is sold in 150 countries. Go Barbie!

you do it to yourself

I don't know what it was last night- the piously induced endorphin high from running or the warm curry glow, or maybe it was just laughing with friends- either way, last night was a fab night and I went to bed happy with all thoughts of anger as far away from my mind as possible. Opting for the quick fix, I did a couple of sprints around the park instead of my normal run and as a result, I can hardly move today. My run this morning was done at a snail's pace because I hurt so much. I'm shin-splint-prone so I always run on grass and I can't tell if my bones hurt or if my calf muscles have finally rebelled but I can tell that they hurt like buggery. It doesn't feel like the usual pain down the front of my legs but instead like someone is nailing a spike through the middle of my leg. I think I'll have to go easy on the whole running (wheezey shuffle) thing.

We get curry from the Indian Takeaway below us and when we order, we always make a point to say that we're from upstairs and we get free poppadoms and a discount. It's great- and last night we even got monster portion sizes so yay for our friendly neighbourhood Indians. Sarah managed to pack away a phenomenal amount of curry and I nearly lost mine due to my stomach cramping as I laughed at the look of horror on Sean's face as Sarah just kept on keeping on. It was a thing of beauty.

corrupting the young
Speaking of the Indians- they live above the takeaway and have a roof beside ours and their kids play out on the roof. With the onset of summer, Sean, Sarah and I seem to be the new objects of interest and the first sunny weekend when I was out on the roof, the kids were out all the time chatting to me. The wee girl, who seems about 8, had a lot of questions about Sean. "Who is that man who is always out on the roof with you?" Oh, Sean? "Who is he?" He lives with me and my friend Sarah. "Isn't he your friend?" Yes, he's my friend too, we all live together. That night we had dinner out on the roof and as I was taking in the last of the stuff, the girl came out again with more questions. "That man was out here again." yes... "Who is he?" That's Sean. [So here's me thinking, "Umm dude, I thought we covered this..."] "But who is he?" That's Sean, he lives with us. "Oh he lives with you and your sister?" Noooo..... Sarah's not my sister, she's my friend, he's my friend, we all live together. "Oh. I thought two of you were married." [to myself: WTF?!] Oh Sean and Sarah are together but they're not married. Oh the disapproving look I got from that 8 year old girl. And nothing gets up my nose like disapproving snooty piety from a child so I just said, "Mmm." in a suitably smug and smirky way and went inside. Once I got inside I burst out laughing and when Sean and Sarah asked what was so funny all I could chant in a childish manner was, "You're living in si-in." What a look in to another culture. I guess to them it makes perfect sense that I, as a single girl, could leave the safety of my parents' home if I were to live with my sister and her husband. But instead I am a single female living with two friends who are sleeping together but aren't married. Oh. My. God. Sean is a king living it up and Sarah and I are dirty slapper ho-bags. But it gets better, since this incident, the kids don't talk to us any more. Yeah, true story. I don't know if they've been told not to talk to the morally depraved people next door or if they decided it themselves but I see them and say hi and they do not say hi back. Personally, I find it hilarious. Luckily, this whole incident doesn't seem to have effected our relationship with the curry takeaway downstairs, thank God.

you'd best believe

I get a lot of forwarded mail from my friends. Most of them are those "funny" emails which I can cope with, some are even good for a bit of a giggle, but every now and then they send me ones which just f*ck me off. They make me wonder how smart my friends really are and surely they're not retarded enough to believe these things? It seems they are, bless them. The latest one I got this morning was:

hi guys Sorry to break the news, but looks like all of those
warnings were real! The use of msn and mail will cost money from summer 2007. If you send this message to 18 different people from your list your little msn icon will become blue and that will make it free for you. If you dont believe me go on (www.msn.com) and see it yourself. Dont foward this message, copy paste it so people will actually read it.

Hey it is Andy and john the directors of MSN, sorry for the interruption but msn is closing down. this is because too many inconsiderate people are taking up all the name (eg making up lots of different accounts for just one person), we only have 578 names left. If you would like to close your account, DO NOT SEND THIS MESSAGE ON. If you would like to keep your
account, then SEND THIS MESSAGE

TO EVERYONE ON YOUR CONTACT LIST. This is no joke, we will be shutting down the servers. Send it on, thanks. WHO EVER DOES NOT SEND THIS MESSEAGE, YOUR ACCOUNT WILL BE CLOSED AND YOU WILL COST £10.00 A MONTH TO USE. SEND THIS TO EVERYONE ON YOUR CONTACT LIST. NOW YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO. PLEASE DO NOT FORWARD THIS or REPLAY. COPY
THE WHOLE EMAIL. GO BACK TO YOUR INBOX AND CLICK ON NEW. AND PASTE THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION

hey everyone, i dont normally send this sort of stuff out but had
a look on the internet and its actually true . On the 30th of november , we will have to pay for the use of our MSN and email accounts unless we send this message to at least 18 contacts on your contact list. It's no joke if you don't believe me then go to the site (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/1189119.stm) and see for yourself. Anyways once you've sent this message to at least 18 contacts, your msn dude will become blue. please copy and paste don't forward cos people won't take notice of it

I mean for the love of Christ. Who on this earth could believe this? I also checked out the link mentioned and yes, there is a story on BBC news where it is rumoured that MSN might start charging (might) but how on earth does that lead people to believe that forwarding spam to 18 people (WTF kind of number is that anyway?!) is going to help apart from proving how many stupid people there are in this world? (If it sounds like I'm starting on a bit of a rant here, you wouldn't be wrong. Stupid spam is on my Top10 list of things that really get me riled.) I mean how is MSN going to know how many people you forward your mail to? HOW? I mean I could sanction Big Brother paranoia about it if you use hotmail but let's face it, most people don't any more. *deep breath* Right. I am going to try to calm down now and not sit here waving my hands in the air shouting, "WHY? HOW? Why are people so stupid? How can they believe this? Why are some of my friends this stupid? WHY? HOW? WTF?!!" Okay. I'm done now. (Until the next thing starts me off...)

the legacy of kitty
I know that everyone has songs that they associate with certain people and times in their life. For me, Hey Ya will always remind me of my final days at Critic but also strongly of Kitty and Kate. Oh the final Thursday nights when we would be shaking our booty around the office to this song (apparently Kate would know what time it was to the half hour because I would get up, have a wee walk around, then put on some music and start shaking my ass) while Holly was proofing the mag... And now, the new song which will remind me of Kitty- irreplaceable. I'm not a fan of Beyonce really but it's hard not to love it with Kitty singing it ALL THE TIME, but with such cute enthusiasm. She's even got me singing along... Before Kitty arrived, my flatmate Sean commented that she might be a little freaked out by our flat and think we're weird. I smiled at him and said that he hadn't met Kitty. Also, I think it's cute that he thinks that I only act crazy/cool with him and whereas yes, not everyone is special enough for me to dance around the kitchen with and give special high-fives to, Sean is not alone in this treatment.

the onus of hosting
Having someone stay with me, I feel an obligation to provide a "full" London experience. Kitty needs to have curry & chips, see sights (Kitty almost tried to talk me out of posing for big/smalls. For shame KittyKat.), have a pub meal, have a cooked breakfast, get rained on horribly, jump in to a crowded tube train, shop in grandiose stores, sample my local French delicatessen, and so many other little things. Most of it involves food, you will note... I also can't take any time off work so I try to do what I can on the weekends and evenings but worry that I'm not preforming my hostess duty to the mostest. At any rate, Kitty is too polite to complain so I'll just assume she's getting what she needs out of this trip. We spent a major part of our weekend house/kitten-sitting although Kitty's reaction on walking in the door was, "That's not a kitten, that's a fucking horse!" I tried to look at Arthur in an objective manner and yes, he is almost 10 months old no not really a baby any more and he is larger than many fully grown cats that I have known but he's still a baby to me. I love looking after him. He tolerates my hugs, has funny personal habits and, most importantly, he purrs. If you're a cat person you may understand this but there are few things nicer than a purring kitty. I get quite nostalgic over that contented rolling rumble they generate.

me and my cooked breakfast. lucky thing I like mushrooms, I think they gave me a whole field...


whilst having coffee in Tate Modern, Kitty and I couldn't resist taking arty photos and giving ourselves halos. I mean who could?


Here I am trying to hold an umbrella in rain whilst holding a camera, protect afore-mentioned camera from the afore-mentioned rain and take a photo in a gap in the foot traffic. I think I look hilariously wannabe-covert.


cryptic
Life is throwing me a couple of curve balls at the moment and due to their nature, I'm not gonna be discussing them online but what I am gonna be doing is seeking solace in wine and curry with Kitty tonight. (And a run after work, no time for gym today so I'd better get my ass out for some form of fat-burning.) There will probably be more singing along with Beyonce and booty shaking. A girl does what it takes to lighten up, pride has no place in these matters. ;-)

flowers

A bit of a gratuitous photo splurge this one. I can't be bothered integrating text and pictures (yet again) so this means they'll be really big. Oh well. Some pics are better than no pics. And there will be more pics of me for the next few days as Kitty is here. We're camera hussies, we can't help it. This is my posing with my aquilegea. They are the second of my rooftop garden to flower and are my pride and joy.


Aren't these flowers just crazy? Such shape! Such colour! I'm in love.


I got a "mixed bag" so we have no idea what colours will come up which is part of the excitement.


Me exhibiting some of the afore-mentioned excitement.


And this is Kitty at dinner last night. Hmm.... that was quite an event. I will write more about it later because it brought up some very important issues and I am quite worked up about them but for now you will all just have to wait with baited breath.

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.

shenanigans and high jinx

I've decided that these pics don't really need writing about because they're really just photos taken when we were out in the evenings. If people complain I may change my mind.


This is us imitating how Cara dives. The guy in the pic is Ayman, our instructor.










This is me post-diving with some mega-boofy salty hair. I had no idea I was looking quite this sexy or I might have done something about it...