NotJustAHatStand

Note to the red-jacketed woman at the bus stop, who waved on the number 41 bus I was trying to catch: You will burn in hell, you evil witch. I know you saw me.

Note to the bus driver of the number 41 bus: Your job is to COLLECT passengers, not splash them with a puddle and drive off whilst laughing maniacally. I know YOU saw me too.

Note to the queue-skipping man in the cafe: It is NOT ok to blatantly jump the queue. I don't care if you're late for a meeting (you shouldn't be stopping for a latte if that's the case). You came into the shop behind me, therefore I will be getting served first, thankyouverymuch.

Note to the nice man behind the counter in the coffeeshop who served me first despite Queue Skipper: You are a true gentleman and will get your reward in heaven.

Note to self: Next time stay in bed.

Labels: Manners

Well, hello. I've missed you. I'm sorry I left you - it doesn't mean I don't love you.

I've not really been up to anything in particular - I've just been doing things. The kind of things I could do easily at any time of day if I didn't have to sit at a desk looking busy for 8 hours a day. Like cleaning my house, co-ordinating the wedding plans*, cooking a batch of fajitas of which the Boy ate so many he nearly made himself sick, and, let's be honest, sitting on my arse watching DVD's.

*Which at the moment seems to involve various people saying 'have you thought of this' or 'what are you going to do about that?' and then leaving me to sort out the actual doing side of things.

Maybe it's because spring is in the air, but I'm feeling quite restless at the moment. I feel kind of... cramped. My job is ok, it pays the bills, but it doesn't exactly set the heather alight. I love our house, I feel like I've lived there for years, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't love a big house in the country. I love my cats, but I am desperate to get a dog.

In short, I just feel unsettled.

I have no reason to be unhappy - and I'm not, at all, I know how lucky I am to have what I have - I suppose it boils down to the fact that I wish I could find a more fulfilling job.

I'd love to be a writer, but I have terrible trouble extracting the little straggly bits of stories that float around in the dark emptiness of my brain, and putting them down on paper. I love animals, but there's no way I could work with them because I'm allergic to most of our furry friends (and I think I'd have a breakdown if I ever had to put one down). I'd like to be my own boss but I have no skills that I could easily utilise, and no money to start a business. Roll on the sweaty listlessness of summer, when I can just be glad that I don't work in the kitchen at McDonald's.

In other news, I've also taken my first shaky steps on the road to becoming green fingered.

Behold, the first installment of Carrot Watch 2007:

These will hopefully become my first crop of home-grown vegetables.

I may have run out of compost by the time I got to the second tray, and I may only have a watering can in the shape of a pink elephant with googly eyes, but I am determined to produce something. Even if it's only one carrot, it's something to build on. Of course, if I only yield one carrot per crop it's going to be a long time till dinner.

Labels: Garden, Life, Work

Picture the scene:

Me, freshly fed, bathed and pyjama-ed up. The Boy, glass of wine in hand. Both of us settled cosily on the sofa under a blanket, in anticipation of the Johnny Depp film we were about to enjoy, courtesy of Blockbuster. The lights were out, the candles lit.

Now, I can read any scary book, but I'm not a big fan of scary films - I can't deal with horror movies as I have to sleep with my light on for weeks afterwards. However thrillers are ok, so long as I have someone to clutch onto or something to hide behind.

So we start watching the DVD, and for about the first half hour everything is peachy. The scenery* is lovely, and it's not too jumpy-outy. There was a bit of unpleasantness with a doggy, but I hide behind my cushion and the Boy helps me through it by shouting at the most inopportune moment that the psycho is RIGHT THERE (which he wasn't). Then it gets to a creepy bit. Johnny's looking suitably freaked out, the music is cranking up the tension, and...

And...

The DVD stops.

This happens on a regular basis with Blockbuster and normally the DVD just needs a good clean. So the Boy gets up, muttering profanities, cleans the DVD, restarts it and gets it back to the bit we were watching. We settle back down and get past the creepy bit. The tension start building again.

Just as Johnny's in a most compromising situation, involving a pickaxe and a man in a stetson, the effing DVD cuts out again. We went through the same rigmarole about three times and eventually gave up. So what was shaping to be a good film was totally ruined by the stupid bastards at Blockbuster.

Part of my weirdness with watching even slightly scary films is that I have to know how it turns out - I have to see the scary baddie either get killed off or arrested, or I can't sleep. The annoying thing is, because the film wasn't a new release our local Blockbuster only have one copy of the DVD so we're going to have to buy the damn thing - I have to know what happens.

Gah.

*By which I mean Johnny

Labels: Film

As promised, the meme that Cat tagged me with on Saturday, because I know you've been sat on the edge of your seat, all blinkin day waiting for this.

Three (ok, four) Things That Scare Me:

Being involved in a car crash.
Losing my sight and therefore the ability to read. An audiobook just wouldn't be the same.
Being attacked by a lion.
Oh My God Childbirth.

(I couldn't pick between childbirth and the lion thing)

Three People Who Make Me Laugh:

My best mate.
Dave Gorman.
Bill Bryson.

Three Things I Love:

Reading a great book for the first time. Then re-reading it.
Springtime. Oh the joys!
Handbags. Just because.

Three Things I Hate:

Spelling mistakes by people who should know better. There's just no excuse.
Rudeness.
TYPING WITHOUT REALISING YOUR CAPS LOCK IS ON and having to re-type, dammit.

Three Things I Don't Understand:

How on EARTH George W Bush ended up as the President of the USA.
The fact that any rubbish blowing about our street always ends up in my garden.
How so many beggars can afford Paul Smith jackets.

Three Things On My Desk:

An empty tea cup.
A tiny ceramic owl bought for me by my sister, whom I have named Hedwig.
A tube of Dove Regenerating Night Cream for my INSANELY DRY hands.

Three Things I'm Doing Right Now:

Listening to the purring sound of my cat, who is sitting on the desk watching me. (What is it with the watchers in this house?)
Wishing I had another cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit.
Resisting the urge to lop off all my hair with the kitchen scissors. It's driving me maaad.

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

Write a book.
Retire.
Travel.

Three Things I Can Do:

Pick out a spelling mistake at 20 paces.
Kill a houseplant in record time.
Make a mean lasagne.

Three Things I Can't Do:

Tell my left from my right.
Subtract.
Play Scrabble.

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To:

The advice your parentals give you.
The news.
The doctor, when he tells you not to interfere with the wound.

Three Things You Should Never Listen To:

Anyone who says 'I'm not being funny but...' or 'I'm not racist but...'.
That L'Oreal ad with Eva Longoria - are we honestly supposed to believe she colours her hair herself?
I'm with Cat - Keane. Or the Manic Street Preachers. Yawn.

Three Things I'd Like To Learn:

How to drive. In my own time and when I am ready, thankyouverymuch.
How to play the piano. Sadly I have small hands with short fingers so I don't think it'll ever happen.
How to grow my own fruit and vegetables.

Three Favourite Foods:

Homemade lasagne.
Hot buttered toast.
M&S Very Berry Cheesecake.

Three Shows I Watched As A Kid:

Hartbeat.
Chocabloc.
Stoppit and Tidyup.

I'm not going to tag anyone (except, of course, the fragrant and lovely Drama Queen) so if you're stuck for a topic today, knock yourself out.

Labels: memes

I've had a busy few days. I'm pooped and it's Monday tomorrow... Gah!

We went to the kilt shop yesterday for the Boy to try some stuff on. He tried on what will probably be the outfit he'll end up wearing on our wedding day and he looked so handsome, I couldn't stop grinning at him. My image of the wedding is much clearer now - I can really picture it all coming together on the day. I'm hoping this means my eye will stop twitching now.

And poor old Scotland, getting bumped into bottom place of the 6 Nations... It was an exciting afternoon, but I was glad I wasn't Irish - there must've been some sweaty palms/brows/buttcheeks over there. I really don't think we deserved to be bottom, but of course I'm biased. We may have got the wooden spoon, but I stumbled across a nekkit picture of Sean Lamont (beware, there is an actual naked picture here, don't click if you're at work) completely by accident.* I suppose I'll just have to make do.

I've been tagged by Cat and because I have no problem with being a lazy blogger I will be posting my answers tomorrow...

In other news, the Big Book of Blogging is out. I'm not in it, but that's no reason not to buy it - it is for a good cause after all. I ordered mine on Friday, you can too by clicking here.

*Ok not COMPLETELY by accident.

Labels: randomness

I made the mistake of buying The Boy Football Manager 2007 for Christmas, and ever since I've had to fight to get access to our PC when he's in the house. He either hovers around, peering over my shoulder, trying to figure out if I'm nearly done yet, or he comes and sits in the spare room with me. Watching me. Waiting until I nip to the loo or go and make a cuppa, so that he can sneak on and check the score.

He's watching me right now - he's just sitting there smoking a fag and (as if that wasn't bad enough) watching me. It's freaking me out because I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. He's willing me to hurry up and just let him onto the computer already. I don't know if he can read what I'm typing from his side of the room.

If you can read this Boy? STOP WATCHING ME. You know I can't concentrate when you're just ... HOVERING... Go read a book or something. Oh, and while I've got your attention? The kitchen's a midden, and it's your turn to clean it.

I want a laptop. That way he can manage a fake football team to his heart's content, and I can sit on the sofa and write my post from there in comfort, peace and solitude.

We've got the day off tomorrow. We're not doing anything in particular, other than taking Coco to the vet for her booster. This means I have to wrangle her into her box first thing in the morning, which I am not looking forward to - she may only have three functional paws, but she makes good use of em when she's determined.

However, forcing a small unhappy cat into a confined space is much preferable to going in to my office - the tension I mentioned in yesterday's post escalated today into full blown huffs and histrionics, and I SO can't be arsed with that on a Friday. They can fight it out amongst themselves tomorrow, and I'll tune in for the office bitch-fest on Monday...

Labels: Cats, Computers, Fiance, Office

I work in an air-conditioned office. This causes regular problems, as I'm sure it does in offices the length and breadth of the country.

The age range of my colleagues varies from 26 (me being the youngest, huzzah!) to mid-50's. There is also a pretty even split of warm people and cold people. As far as I'm concerned, it could ALWAYS be cooler in the office. I'm a hot tattie and I prefer to be cool*. Unfortunately, there are others who would sit in a centrally-heated house with a hot water bottle and a blanket**. These people complain bitterly any time the air con blasts out a bit of cooler air to regulate the temperature. I, on the other hand, wait for these blasts like a spaniel with it's head out a car window on a hot day - tongue hanging out limply, panting.

*I can only imagine what I'll be like when I hit the menopause. The mind boggles.

**Over their pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers.

It's unfortunate that the two coldest people in the office sit under the air con vents, so I understand that it does get a bit chilly for them. It's also unfortunate that my beloved corner seat by the window is a bit cosier. I'm afraid though, that I will have to be dead or retired before I give up my corner seat. Apart from the fact I can keep an eye on all the goings on, I HATE HATE HATE having my back to the room - it makes me nervous. I never know when someone is going to creep up on me and give me something to do. Where I sit now I can see them coming and have an excuse prepared.

But anyway... Today the Air Con Wars reached new heights of ridiculousness. There is one particular person who is always FAR! TOO! HOT! She is a medical anomaly. She walks about outside, in winter, with a cardi over a t-shirt, and maintains that she is perfectly comfortable. She gets funny looks from people in the street who think she should be in a secure unit somewhere.

Unfortunately for everyone else in the office, she's also an overbearing, self-important loon (but don't tell anyone I said that) who thinks the air conditioning unit is there just for her. It is set at a fairly comfortable temperature for everyone, but every so often someone takes it into their head that they're cold and changes the temperature or fan speed - this is unacceptable to Warm Colleague. She checks the A/C unit every time she passes. If it's different to the usual 21C/mid-fan-speed, she changes it. She doesn't ask anyone if it's ok, she doesn't even break stride, she just changes it.

Today, one of the Cold People snapped. She was delirious from cold (so she told me anyway, I think she was being a tad overdramatic), and she changed the temperature to 22c. Two minutes later, WC walks past the display thingy with the buttons, and changes it back to 21c. Cold Person calmly walks over, says 'I'm cold, does anyone mind if I change the temperature?' No-one did, so she changes it. Two minutes later, WC changes it back, again, without asking if anyone minds. CP turns puce.

And so it went on. For an hour.

It would be easier to just switch the effing thing off.

Labels: Office

When I was eight I was riding my bike down the hill at the end of my street. I decided to show off, and took both hands off the handlebars. Then I stuck my legs out.

Then I fell off.

I flipped over the handlebars, landed on my face, and skidded along on that for a few feet before coming to halt in a whimpering bundle of patheticness.

I did TRY to break my fall, but unfortunately I didn't do very well - I broke my wrist, and still I didn't manage to stop my front teeth coming into painful contact with the road. I burst my upper lip open, chipped one front tooth, and cracked the other. It's fair to say I was a bit of a mess. Once my mum and dad got over the shock of seeing my messed-up face, they took me to Accident and Emergency and I got patched up (I also bit the doctor when he tried to find out if I'd damaged the roof of my mouth). I got a cast put on my arm, my upper lip healed perfectly, and the dentist put a veneer on my tooth to cover up the missing chip.

Then, about 3 years ago, I noticed a lump in my mouth, in the gum above the tooth that had been cracked when I fell. My dentist told me the root of the tooth was infected, probably because some bacteria had gotten in through the hairline crack. Over the course of the following year I saw more of my dentist than I did some members of my family, as he gave me root filling after root filling, trying to get rid of the infection. Eventually he admitted defeat and referred me to the Edinburgh Post-Graduate Dental Institute. I then spent the course of the NEXT year going back and forward to the Dental Institute for increasingly unpleasant root treatment. It didn't work. The last resort was an apicectomy, which I've talked about here before, and which was possibly the least fun afternoon I've ever spent. But it did the trick - my tooth is now infection free.

After all this trauma, I've been left not only with an obsession for flossing, but with a discoloured front tooth. Which is awkward because, as the more perceptive of you may have picked up, I'm getting married in September. I'm one of those people who runs away whenever a camera comes out, mainly because I'm so self conscious about my teeth. I figure there's little point spending lots (and lots!) of money on a photographer if I'm dreading the pictures being taken, so I'm going to splash out on some cosmetic dentistry before the wedding.

I plan to have either crowns or veneers fitted to my two front teeth, but I thought I might as well go the whole hog and get them whitened too, so to this end I went to see a private dentist on Friday to ask about tooth whitening. She was, to say the least, a little odd. I explained why I was there, and she had a look at my teeth. She then spent a good 10 minutes going 'hmmm' and 'errrr' and staring off into space, apparently thinking, while I sat watching my lunch hour ticking by, and thinking about the £25 I had paid just for a 15 minute consultation.

Her conclusion was that my discoloured tooth could be whitened using a different bleaching method, which involves opening up the back of the tooth and inserting hydrogen peroxide, thereby bleaching it from the inside. This doesn't sound like something a sane person would volunteer for, but she assured me it wasn't so bad. She said I could also bleach my teeth in the usual way (using trays filled with bleaching gel that you wear at night), so my poor, delicate front tooth would be getting blasted by bleach, both inside and out. I'm a bit dubious about this - it's taken the combined efforts of my own dentist and the Dental Insitute two years to get rid of the infection - is it wise to go opening it up again and stuffing it full of chemicals for cosmetic reasons? Weird Dentist assured me this wasn't a problem, but went on to say that the treatment would probably end up costing somewhere in the region of £500.

I did say I would splash out but I hadn't imagined it would take quite as much... splashing.

Weird Dentist also said that just sticking a crown onto the problem tooth could weaken it even more (to fit a crown they have to file your own tooth down to a point). So now I'm even more confused than I was before, and worried that whatever option I go for is going to weaken my tooth. However I refuse to have my picture taken without having this tooth fixed - I want to look PLEASED about getting married, not sulky and self-conscious, which is how I look in every picture of me that's been taken in the last 20 years.

Nothing's ever simple...

Labels: Teeth, Wedding

I had another scary wedding dream last night - probably because of all the gift list chat yesterday, and the fact that I am ever so slightly freaking out about how much I still have to do.

I dreamt that I was all dolled up this time (unlike the last one where I had to get married in a pair of jeans and a manky t-shirt), but no guests had turned up. There was no minister to marry us, no flowers and no band. I'm taking this as a sign that I need to pull my finger out and get busy with the wedding plans, if only to ensure I can sleep through the night without waking up in a cold sweat and shouting 'stationery!'.

Otherwise, I had quite a good day - at lunchtime I picked up the shoes I ordered at the beginning of the week. I've coveted them for a while now, so I was glad to finally get my grubby little paws on em. Then the Boy took me to the shops after work and bought me a new springy jacket. I think he was feeling guilty about watching football EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. this week and was trying to keep me sweet. I hate football, but if it means I get presents he can watch as much as he likes.

Unfortunately it's now pissing it down and blowing a gale so it's unlikely I'll get to wear my green springy jacket tomorrow. Ho hum.

Still, at least I wasn't on this bus today.

I'm off to have a relaxing lavendery bath.

Labels: dreams, randomness, Shopping

So where do people stand on the whole wedding list issue?

Because I am having a MORAL DILEMMA, people.

The Boy and I already live together. We're lucky enough to have a nice flat, filled with lovely things. Sure, there are a few things in the likes of, oh I don't know, say John Lewis for the sake of an argument, that I would LIKE to own. Like this. Or this, if people were feeling especially generous. Ooh, or these! And this would be perfect for hoovering the crumbs off the Boy when he falls asleep on the sofa after dinner. But that doesn't mean to say I NEED any of this stuff. It would be nice, but we don't need it.

I feel kind of mercenary asking people to not only turn up on our wedding day in their sunday best, possibly take time off work (as it's a Friday) and book flights or train tickets to be here, but to buy us cool stuff that we don't need as well.* So I don't know what to do. On the one hand, I'm dazzled by the pretty things, but on the other I don't want to start off married life with a great big dollop of bad karma. This is my chance to make a difference. To do something selfless.

*Not that we would be ASKING people to buy gifts, of course. What do you take me for?

Wedding gifts are supposed to give you a leg up in your married life. But we don't need a leg up as much as some. Judging by the amount of money we've spent on other people's wedding gifts (which is not grudged), if we went for an Oxfam wedding list we could potentially provide a whole herd of goats. I mean, who needs a revolving spice rack to make their life complete? If that spice rack were in Zimbabwe or Mozambique it would be a revolving dust rack, and what use is that to anyone?

But, there's always the chance that people will look at the Oxfam list, chuckle and say 'Goats? Those kids! What will they think of next?' and go off to John Lewis and buy us a toaster anyway.

So what to do? Could we compromise and have both? Is it stupid and confusing and just plain WEIRD having two lists? Should I suck it up and go for the warm fuzzy charidee one, or the mercenary look-at-all-this-STUFF list?

#whimpers#

Labels: Wedding

I've been choked with the cold since Friday. This morning I struggled out of bed (and it was a struggle, believe me) and into work, to be told that ALL our systems are broken. The main system I use is down for routine maintenance anyway, but our emails are now playing up as well. In fact, the only thing that seems to be working is the Internet (praise be), and Word. And I never use Word. But the good thing about having a stinking cold is that no-one is giving me any work to do - they don't seem to want to get too close to me...

Every time someone comes into my office they recoil in horror and say 'oooh, you look awful'. Which is nice. But I do look awful, so I'll forgive em.

My weekend seemed to go by in a flash. I ordered my bridesmaid's dresses on Saturday, and for most of the day yesterday I huddled on my couch, oozing and feeling sorry for myself. I then got pissed off with the state of my flat - it really was a midden - so I hoovered the whole place and mopped the floors. I cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom, and tidied my bedroom. Then I collapsed in a sniffling heap on the (sparkling) floor. The Boy tried to cure my cold with a chicken curry that was almost combustible (it didn't work) while we watched Top Gear, and by then it was time for bed.

On a completely unrelated note, I've had to turn on word verification as I've been getting lots of comment spam. I've been reluctant to switch the word verification thingy on as it always, ALWAYS takes me at least two attempts to submit a comment. I don't know about anyone else, but my brain seem to have trouble translating the letters in front of me, to the correct keys on the keyboard. It started off that I'd just get the odd comment, but now I'm getting bombarded with meaningless comments from people trying to sell vicodin and convert me to Scientology. So word verification is GO.

Is it time to go home yet?

Labels: Illness, Shopping, weekend

I used to be a one-book-woman. I'd start one book, and I wouldn't crack open another until I had finished the first.

These days though, I'm much more promiscuous.

I currently have three books on the go - Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift (which I carry back and forwards to work with me because it's a good handbag-sized book), The Old Curiosity Shop by Dickens (which sits on my bedside table), and the first part of The Lord Of The Rings (which also sits on my bedside table).

I read Gulliver's Travels when I was little, but it must have been a childrens version. I remember being fascinated by the illustrations of the tiny Lilliputians clambering over Gulliver when they discover him asleep in the countryside, but that's really all I remember. So when I started reading it again recently, I was a bit taken aback. Swift apparently wanted to piss some people off with Gulliver's Travels: 'to vex the world rather than divert it'. The blurb on the back cover, which I am just reading now, explains my feelings exactly: "'Gulliver' is a book to which the adult reader comes back with surprise and a fresh respect". You said it mate. It's not a kiddie's story about tiny people and giants - it's a satire. And a good one too.

The Old Curiosity Shop is my 'serious' reading. I am woefully ignorant of many classic books that I should have read long before now, so I'm trying to read as many as I can.

But I often feel the need for a bit of escapism at the end of a long day, which is where The Lord Of The Rings comes in. It's World Book Day today, and to celebrate the 10th anniversary they have compiled a list of 10 Books You Can't Live Without - LOTR came second.* Higher than the Bible, which came 6th. I've never read the bible, but I've read LOTR many times, and I suspect I'll read it many more times in my life. So I suppose it is one of the books I couldn't live without.

I do still get a wee twinge of guilt that I don't focus completely on one book any more, but if I'm going to get through the books on my shelves by the time I collect my pension (which will be a loooong time yet the way things are going in this country) then I'm going to have to step up the pace.

Maybe a book in each hand...?

*And I see the people who compiled this list are unable to spell 'Tolkien' properly. Good stuff.

Labels: Books, reading

Dammit.

Just as I was getting ready to write today's witty, thoughtful, well-crafted post, I get tagged by The Goth. Oh well, I'll have to just tell you what the first 10 songs on my iPod are:

1) Love Rollercoaster - Red Hot Chili Peppers
2) Even Fallen In Love? - Buzzcocks
3) All Along The Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix
4) Why Do You Love Me? - Garbage
5) Jammin' - Bob Marley and the Wailers
6) End Over End - Foos
7) The Bends - Radiohead
8) Love Her Madly - The Doors
9) Alive - Pearl Jam
10) Supermassive Black Hole - Muse

These are the first 10 songs that come up when I set it to shuffle, hand on heart.

Conclusion? I need to branch out, music-wise.

Apparently I have to tag 5 people to do the same, so here goes:

Stacey
Sarah
Elisabeth
James
Random Reflections

Sorry people, he made me do it.

Labels: memes