BBQ Fun

The humble BBQ, We are great fans Glenys and I, of the masterful social convention we Brits do so well, we must be the only country in the world that lights a fire in the middle of the garden as soon as the weather gets hot, like it's the most sensible thing in the world.

Anyway, we went to a bit of a BBQ masterclass at the weekend, it was a three day spectacle of continuous meaty goodness. Rich was in charge of the flames (fear not Matt, your crown was not lost - the sausages were just not up to your heady standards) and Catherine was in charge of the accoutrements (please, someone tell me that that is a word, even if it's spelt wrongly, I don't care, just let it be a word!)and they were good accoutrements, involving cous cous filled yorkshire puddings (and I know that that sounds horrible but YUM!) and lots of sundried tomatoes, pasta dishes etc. We have basically come back from filling our faces for three days, if I don't eat for the rest of the week my body will be like 'so what?! there's still some chicken in here that will see us through until Christmas!'

It was a weekend of hanging out with Glenn's friends which if I haven't mentioned before, I find VERY TRAUMATIC. It's not that they aren't lovely people, they are, all of them, I have not met one single friend of his who hasn't had some kind of likeable quality, some fewer than others granted but they all have something. It's just that I have hang ups going back to high school of getting involved with people who have been friends for a long time. Also, they are very 'laddy', you know, all the lads have this habit of huddling into a corner and talking about football and Times Gone By (at one point on Saturday I thought the only way to get involved in a conversation was to grow a penis, travel back in time and enrol at Preston Uni) what this basically means is that the girls (none of who know each other very well by the way because we are banned from most social get togethers so the boys can get nekkid, beat bongo drums and cry in the woods together in peace) HAVE to talk to each other. You can understand that this can get a little awkward and I find myself saying UNBELIEVEABLY dull things because I am so afraid of offending somebody or sounding like an idiot. Then I spill things, which automatically makes me 'you know, that girl who threw drinks down herself and had to be taken away so she could change'. God is not smiling on me.

Anyway, other than my dull conversation it was a really nice weekend and they are all going to come to us at the end of August for our housewarming. If you're reading this and you know me and you haven't been invited, that's because it was decided this weekend in a drunken moment of 'I have a house! And you should all come to my house! Yay! Party at ma-house!' and you will of course be invited when I come down off the ceiling where I currently live, buoyed by the stress of having invited people to a house that ISN'T EVEN NEARLY DECORATED REMOTELY TASTEFULLY YET. So please, come to my house! But don't judge me. And expecially don't judge my dull comversation.

Tricked!

It's ok, we can breathe again, Celine Dion is NOT replacing Kylie at Glastonbury this year, not that I actually have tickets or am going but you know, I do watch the TV coverage and I was fearing for The Dion's life. Let us not forget the tragedy that was 50 cent at Reading 04.

To Liz and Gareth (just in case they were fibbing when they said last night that although they knew of the existence of this blog they were not reading it)
I have been thinking about what Gareth said about how I shouldn't get freaked out about people reading it because HELLO! IT'S ON THE INTERNET! and he is right, people can in fact read this, just because no one is commenting (WELL HARDLY EVER) does not mean that it is not available and out there for anyone to just come along and judge my thoughts, actions, life in general. So because of this I am going to be a little more careful about what goes on here (not that I believe great masses of people are reading it but because you never know who actually is). That said I'm not going to censor it, if I want to put it out there then I bloody will, I'm just going to try not to offend anybody who I really, really like, like Liz and Gareth, who are lovely people.

However, I reserve the right to go out of my way to offend the people I really don't like because this is MY website, I can say what I like and no one is commenting (WELL HARDLY EVER).

See! I'm over the fact that this is a public forum already!

(In total denial.....)

And tonight we're gonna party like it's... Wednesday!

Oh yes, today is Wednesday, and I am loving the Wednesdayness of this day. Wednesday is a great day because it means you are over the top of the hill and although you are not quite on the home stretch to weekend land, you are most definately past the evil hump that is Monday and the pointlessness that is Tuesday. The worst day of the week for me is most definately Tuesday because although it is not Monday and therefore you can't have the Monday Blues, it is still the beginning of the week, so you can't say 'Almost the weekend!' without being very wrong.

Hmmm, have you figured out by now that I want to write something but I don't have anything to write about.... thinking.... Oh yes! Here is a phone conversation I had this morning:

Me: So I have been on the internet and I can't transfer all the deposit money today because they have a £2000 a day limit

Him: What are you going to...

Me: It's ok though because I called the bank and they have a £5000 a day limit over the phone so I've transferred that much to the solicitors and the rest will have to go to them tomorrow but the good news is that it should all have gone through by next Tuesday in time to complete (NB: It's no mistake that there was no punctuation there, I just talk that fast when it's about money)

Him: Guess who's replacing Kylie at Glastonbury?

Me: Who?

Him: Celine Dion

Me: Seriously?

Him: That's what I heard

Me: Well, may be she will take more of an interest IN OUR FINANCIAL SITUATION REGARDING THIS HOUSE PURCHASE DID YOU HEAR A SINGLE WORD I SAID BEFORE?

Him: The hippies won't like that will they?!

We are not the only ones......

I just went on a little tour of Blogger, I clicked on my location on my profile and had a looky see who else in the Birmingham area is keeping one of these here blog thingummys.

I found a guy called Daniel who is a committed Christian, is writing mostly about his faith and takes it all VERY SERIOUSLY. On one particular post he writes:

'Purpose of this blog
Why am I blogging all my different thoughts? Is it just a waste of time or a display of exhibitionism?'

I would like to say here and now, on the record, that SpanAir is most definately both a waste of time AND a blatant display of exhibitionism. I like it that way, that is the way it is staying.

Oh! And to the girl who has called her blog 'Horror Cocktail' and who's posts mostly include lyrics to EXTREMELY DISTURBING songs - Good God woman! RELAX! I can send you some Senocote if you'd like?

Oh God, Oh God OhGodOhGodOhGod

It's only quarter past three.

'That smooth cockney type, he's trying to boost my ego'

AND I LOVE IT.

His hair could just be where the wild roses grow.

There is a person out there who is my technical guru, he is the person to whom I run whenever I have a techy problem that I cannot solve myself (and for that read all my techy problems, including 'but why can't it find the site? I've typed it in three times, WHY CAN'T IT FIND IT?! To which he would reply, with a fatigue in his voice 'because www is in fact three w's and not four Hannah', if in fact I had had the courage to ring him and ask him that partcular question). He has gone away now, he has gone to the dark place, the place where the hip go to die, the place which sucks your money away and leaves you with only an overdraft to mourn with, that's right, he has gone to...... The South.

Newbury is apparently a beautiful market town, it is surrounded by fields and tree's and is accesable to the great smoke of London and it's glorious modern art galleries (Went to the Saatchi gallery in February and I have never been in so much awe/confusion before, it was fabulous) by one short train ride. To be honest, Newbury could be painted in gold for all I care, the fact is, it has sucked one of my friends into it's shimmering glow and I don't like it.

My friend who lives in Newbury is not just a techy genius, he is also a pretty top bloke all round and has been a warming presence in my life for 7 years. Now Newbury has him and I DON'T LIKE IT.

I'm joking, in a half joking (and for that read not joking at all) type way, I am glad that he is moving forward in his life and experiencing the kind of go for broke independance every young man needs, he can drink and shag to his hearts contents now and there is no one to hear him. I have heard through the grapevine that he is a little lonely, that all this new found freedom is a little overwhelming. To this I say give it time, we've all been there, in a new place, with new people and it is so easy to just run home every weekend to the comfort of the familiar and that's exactly what it is, and it will ALWAYS be there (except when it runs to Australia and/or Egypt, and if you think I am annoyed at Newbury, you just wait until the rant about Australia and/or Eqypt comes out!) but stay down there for a bit, go for several hard earned drinks on a Friday night with Newbury folk and it will all side into place. Believe me, my techy friend is a sterling chap and if I can see it, so will Newbury.

And as for the rumours of him having a new and slightly secret girlfriend, well until I hear them from him myself I refuse to speak of them. They hurt all too deeply.........

Mr Dzeryn, I salute you.

I think he likes me

On Sunday of last week, I had a fat day. Now most people know what a fat day is but not many people have a fat day like I have a fat day. All we had to do all day was go into town and get Glenn a pair of trousers for work but after two hours of trying to find something that did not make me look like Blimp Lady from the Planet Fat I collapsed in a heap and announced that I would not be leaving the bedroom or taking off my dressing gown. This doesn't happen very often and I can suppress the monstrous feeling of being Lard Woman for things like work and obligations for friends but when it's just me or just me and him they just take over and I am unable to function with other living beings.

Glenn tried his best and for almost an hour he held me while I cried and pulled various combinations of clothes out of the wardrobe for me to try on, but nothing worked. In the end he very reluctantly went to town on his own after me pleading with him to just leave me alone (PROBABLY TO BE EATEN ALIVE FROM THE INSIDE BY ALL THE FAT), he recognises by now when the dark cloud is just too dense for him to get through.

When he came back he'd brought me the original Star Wars trilogy in a DVD box set to cheer me up, now you might have noticed that we are buying a house and no, we cannot afford the original Star Wars trilogy on DVD. That simple act though, him giving up the little money he has left at the end of the month to buy me something that not only made me smile again but was completely unrelated to the thing that had made me sad in the first place, is the very essence of the reason I love him.

Just can't stop today....

Regarding the below:

'Long afloat on shipless oceans, I did all my best to smile.' Tim Buckly sang it, can't remember who wrote it but it goes a long way to explaining how I feel this morning, and have been feeling for a long time. How long before this cheery facade breaks up and the black waves engulf me? Maybe I could go surfing! Build sandcastles on the beaches of misery! Stung by the jellyfish of depression! Ride the decrepid donky of emptiness! Put the red sauce of heartache on the Mr Whippy of despair! Sounds like an advert for Blackpool. However, I've always had a good time in Blackpool. Vegas of the North that place. Apart from the metallic grabber machines of dark, seeping hatred of course.'

Written by the utterly perfect Shamboy, and to him I say this;

Your words leap off the page like oompa loopma's on crack, David Wheatley would feel inferior and I am not close to worthy. If you ever feel like you are even in the post code region of a donkey of emptiness, or the beaches of misery (which by the way, are somewhere near Taunton) - then read this, call me, take a walk on the wild side of Birmingham (which by the way, is in Longbridge). You got me through every dollop of red sauce of heartache on the many Mr Whippy's of Despair I ate when we were serving time together in Hull and I love you, more than I knew and certainly more than you know.

Should your Lovely Lady or Glenn ever read this, I should perhaps point out now that this love is deep and fast flowing but purely platonic, it is a PLATONIC fast flowing stream, nay, brook of love.

Completely, COMPLETELY Brilliant.

Shamboyc.blogspot.com

(And I also had the realisation that putting my real name at the top of this site might not be such a good idea should anyone actually take to reading it)

Everybody Loves a Ginger!

The Simple Life - Too bloody right she was.

I was at work the other day at a college in Oxford (and if that is conjuring up images of people in caps and gowns riding bicycles then clearly, you know very little about the nature of my job). Usually the colleges have toilets for the staff (with locks on them) and toilets for the students which the staff never go to unless they need a quick fix. I was too desperate on this particular day to trek across the campus to the staff toilets so I decided to take my chances with the student ones.

Here my story begins, Oh Holy Mother of All The Stupid People.

While balancing above the septic tank, sorry, I mean toilet, so as not to let my skin touch the seat, the girl in the cubicle next to me flushed and exited. I exited shortly after to find her (wearing curious hot pink leg warmers) staring at one of the sinks, said sink had had it's drain stuffed with tissue, the tap had been left running and it was quickly filling up with grey water (yes, grey). The girl in the Curious Hot Pink Legwarmers let out an 'Ew!' and picked a different sink.

'Ew'?

God I feel old, I'm 24 and I have lost touch with the kids man, EW IS NOT A WORD!

Anyway, the sink was filling so I went in to avoid a potential mini tsunami disaster, turned the tap off, pulled about three rolls of tissue out of the drain and disinfected my hands with a substance from the soap dispenser which can only be discribed as pink acid.

Now tell me, if the girl with the Curious Hot Pink Legwarmers never reach adulthood, maybe after an accident with a car which would CERTAINLY NOT be driven by me (at speed), will the world really miss out on anything?

Really?

REALLY?

Yes, of course it would, and how truly evil of you to think anything less, HOW TRULY EVIL.

Cats or People? Pigs or People? Sheep or Pigs?

At 6.30am today I was eating my Special K and skimmed milk (might as well be bacon and eggs for all the good it does me) and I switched on the TV to take my mind off the taste of crispy cardboard, when I noticed a cartoon that would have baked Tom Strarkey's noodle.

It was set on a sheep farm, all the sheep had human faces, stood upright and could talk, and they were trying to stay awake all night. I was trying to figure out why they were attempting to stay up all night when the scene cut to the farmhouse with the farmer making his son Special K and skimmed milk (probably) and then I noticed - THE FARMER WAS A PIG.

He was a pig, and his son was a pig, they had human faces, stood upright and could talk. The little pig boy (perhaps called Tinker....?) went to see his friend on his way to school... and Lo! His boyhood chum was a cow!

I don't understand how a children's cartoon which is on at 6.30am, BEFORE HI-FIVE (which I LOVE!) can have such logic - How did they decide which animal would be the farmed one? What if the sheep are capable of being sentient beings with excellent farming capabilities?! Who decides the hierarchy? WHO IS THE EMPEROR?

This is all Tom Starkey's fault, I used to love cartoons.

I'm trying very hard not to get dooced

I've been trying very hard since I started this blog not to talk about work, this is really difficult because work is quite a lot of my life. I'm one of those people who is really ambitious but whose flaws are leaning towards shooting the fruits of her labours down in flames. My problem with trying not to write about work is that this blog has turned into a kind of therapy for me, it's a way of getting what I feel inside out into the open but without shouting it form the rooftops because only the people who are closest to me know about it.

I also want to use this blog as a record of my life at this time, with all the hopes and possibilities I have, as well as the insecurities and fears. However I am fully aware that employers who find out about their employees blogs do not take kindly to unfavourable things written about them in what is essentially a public forum.

So the only things I am going to say about it is that right now, at the present time, in this moment here today, and being unable to go into any detail....

Work Fucking Sucks.

And yes, that is the most eloquent way I can say it

I can't get the sack for that can I?

Can I?!

Cats or People?People or Cats?

TS - But the thing I never got was Thundercats

SA - What didn't you get about Thundercats

TS - Well what were they, people or cats?

SA - Don't know, they were Cat People I suppose

TS - But what was that little pet thing they had?

SA - Why-Lee-Kit and Why-Lee-Kat, they were the kid Cat People

TS - No, not that, the little pet thing they had

SA - Oh, you mean Snarf!

TS - Yeah, what was Snarf?

SA - God I don't know, a pet cat? a squirrel? Who knows...

TS - But that's my point, if Snarf is a cat and the thundercats are Cat People, then they are keeping one of themselves as a pet, how messed up is that? It'd be like me having a little boy on a leash, it'd be like me having a little pet boy, possibly called Tinker.

SA - Tinker? You'd call a pet boy 'Tinker'? I don't think you should call a little pet boy Tinker.

TS - What would you call your little pet boy.

SA - I'm not sure..... Dave!

TS - If I ever have a dog, I'm calling it Dave

SA - You know what freaked me out about Thundercats?

TS - You mean apart from the little pet thundercats they kept, litle I would have a little pet boy on a leash? Tell me

SA - They were all alone on this planet, apart from the evil mummy man, it was just them on this massive planet, I mean what happens when they start dying? Why-Lee-Kit and Why-Lee-Kat would have to re-populate it and weren't they brother and sister?

TS - little pet boys and incestuous Cat People, that's worse than bloody willow-in-the-wisp that is.

Lovely Tom Starkey

Last night I caught up with someone I haven't spoken to properly for a very long time, his name is Tom Starkey. Tom Starkey is a phenominal name and he has quite brilliant hair.
We met up in some dodgy local town for local people if you know what I mean and holed up in my hotel bar for four hours. Now I was a little worried about seeing him in case of the disease which affects people who haven't seen each other for a long time- The Awkward Conversation (TAC disease). The reason we haven't spoken properly was because when we graduated from uni we did not part on the best of terms and neither of us was willing to back down. This taught me a valuable lesson in life - sometimes you should back down, sometimes it's better to say you know what, this isn't worth it, because although I can remember quite clearly the many factors which led to our falling out, I can't remember a single one of them being worth losing his friendship for such a long time.
I needn't have worried about TAC disease, he is a consumate professional at avoiding all the sypmtoms and before we knew it it was 9.15 and it was like we had never not spoken.
Tom Starkey is a teacher, and he is a teacher for all the right reasons, he genuinely wants to make a difference, but as mochinbach has written about on her Noble And Much More Worthy Than Mine site, teaching has not turned out to be what he thought it was, so he's quitting. This makes me so furious, that the system (or the Man, or They or whatever you want to call it) is letting kids down up and down the country because brilliant people like Mochinbach and Tom Starkey feel they can't put up with all the bullshit and just help the kids. I had some totally amazing teachers when I was at school, and I had some bloody awful ones to, and I can honestly say that the teachers who inspired me the most were the ones who would stay behind to talk to me on a human level, to see what my issues were and how we could better my studies in spite of them (and sometimes because of them). That's what teachers like Tom Starkey and Mochinbach try to do, that's what they are fighting to do in a system where kids are statistics and their grades are targets. That's why Tom Starkey is quitting and I think that's so sad because if Tom Starkey and his brillaint hair had been my teacher I'd have got straight A's all the way through.

I'd have got into a lot of trouble though, because Tom Starkey is HOT.

VOTE!!

There you go, that's worthy.

Usurpped!!

I just posted the entry below, then I looked at Rockinmochin to see if she has indeed made any further entries.

She has!

And ohmygod they are so worthy. She is actually writing about important stuff, stuff that matters, stuff involving the future of our young people through education and guidance.

Man, I got to get me some relevance.

I got to get me some thoughts.

Hmmmmmmmmm.... I'll get back to you.

Our kids are gonna be funny lookin'

We almost had a disaster this week. I rang Mortgage Advisor Man on Tuesday to get a progress report on the house purchase because outragously he hasn't called for a little over a week and this has to be all done and completed two weeks from Tuesday just gone. He said;

Oh yes, Miss Davis, everything is fine Miss Davis, it's all terrifically smooth Miss Davis, there is just one small matter of the mortgage company not releasing the final offer of the money because Mr Keilloh's employer reference did not match what we put on the application

What does that mean? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

Well, it means Miss Davis that your application has been referred and is waiting for approval again Miss Davis, but please don't worry Miss Davis, I'm not worried Miss Davis so you shouldn't be.

Well of course you're not worried... YOU'RE NOT BUYING THE HOUSE

Please Miss Davis, you are my top priority Miss Davis, nothing will stand in the way of your purchasing this house Miss Davis, I am not worried Miss Davis and I will call you tomorrow.

And he did call me tomorrow, which was yesterday and the mortgage company has said that it is all ok but that didn't stop Glenn and myself having the mother of all rows via email, this involved me typing many things and then erasing them moments beofre I hit send because please don't let my relationship ever get into a mess where I go too far in a row and we can't get past it. Glenn is a hugely understanding person, and he's also very, very, very chilled out about anything that doesn't involve money or seats in a cinema. Unfortunately a row about a mortgage which he is already freaking out about fits nicely into the 'involves money' category and therefore he wasn't taking any prisoners. I come from a family of deeply committed shouters and therefore, I never take any prisoners (if there's one thing I am good at, it's reducing a very, very, very chilled out person to door slamming and running away scared). I said it was his fault and he said it was my fault and in his head he is picturing the games room with the framed photo of a blue cadillac disappearing and in my head a whole house I can decorate FROM SCRATCH just went up in smoke.

But it's all better now, the mortgage man came back and said that we can have the money after all, but not before my relationship was dented. His next job is to get on to the solicitor to find out waht is going on and whether or not they are dead because they HAVE STOPPED ANSWERING THE PHONE.

(I love the CAPS key, so much can be emphasised with one little key)

I have some thank you's to do now -

1) thank you to mochinbach for posting the photo's on this site
2) thank you to mochinbach for resisting what must have been a powerful urge to put certain photo's on this site that would have done my reputation as someone terribly cool (HA!) much damage
3) thank you to mochinbach and Matt (AKA King Of The BBQ, Lord Of The Flame) for letting us stay in the spare room (AKA the room where Glenn hides from the cats) after Glenn's resolve to not drink three nights in a row came crashing down three minutes after we got there

One well done -

Well done the the King of the BBQ, Lord of the Flame, for doing masterful things with meat products.

One recommendation -

click on the contributor under Spanair, the one called mochinbach and read 'rockinmochin', it's much better than this shit.

Blogging 

Good Luck Matt!!

Card 

'I'm not sure how this card will promote luck - first of all, the bear has obviously stabbed the duck and is painting the sign in its blood. Secondly, the duck, in its dying terror, is desperately trying to grope the bear's behind. But, I suppose, a duck and bear bloodbath must be the luckiest kind of carnage'

I wish I could say that I wrote this but it was written by a much more talented writer than I - Mr Anthony Dzeryn.

But like he said - Good luck Matt x