Yes, we were invited to a medieval themed wedding and yes, I dressed up, there are photos, I may post one, let’s be honest, I probably won’t though. Friends of ours who were going emailed back and forth with various suggestions for costumes, most bought them off fancy dress websites, I however, who apparently believe that everything should be about me, including and especially weddings, hired a dress from Birmingham Repertory Theatre costume department. I think my favourite part of the whole wedding was going to the warehouse that stores all these fabulous costumes and trying on different elaborate dresses. I chose one which I thought befitted the occasion without making me look like I had a large sign over my head reading “LOOK AT ME! ISN’T MY COSTUME AWESOME?!!”, It was long, and medieval, and made me look pregnant, which I resented.
In the morning though, well, there was an incident, there was a throwing incident, involving me, Glenn, the small vicinity of my car and the satnav. I threw the satnav, it hit him on the arm, his arm produced an angry lump and he passed out. There was sweating (him) and crying (me) and me driving to A&E slapping him on the leg and screaming “stay with me Glenn!” while his head lolled about on his chest. We thought up a convincing story to tell the nice people in the hospital so that I didn’t get arrested for assault but then when the Dr looked at Glenn’s arm and then at me I shouted “I THREW THE SATNAV AT HIM!” because I was nothing if not willing to accept all and every punishment, anyway the Dr looked back at Glenn’s arm, stroked it lovingly for a little while, bent some fingers, looked back at me and said “was it a tomtom?” I stared at the floor, insides melting and mumbled “mm hmm”, he says “I see…. Well it’s not broken, I’m not going to x-ray it, I think you’ll be ok”, Glenn requested a MacDonalds, and life went back to normal.
The wedding was awesome, there was a barn filled with fairy lights, a marquee, a band, karaoke, a bouncy castle and a bucking bronco. During the country dancing, the lady who was leading the dancing said into the microphone “is there a Hannah Davis in the room?”, Glenn held up my hand as I looked very confused, lady says “ladies and gentlemen, we have the regional champion in our midst!”, there is clapping, I am even more confused, as the only dancing competition I ever won was at first school when I was 9 (there was admittedly that ‘dance like Michael Jackson’ competition that I won at a campsite in Portsmouth when I was 6 but in the current climate I’m not sure I should mention that), Glenn smiles in a sneaky way, I think that makes us even.
All I’m going to say about the camping, is it is unpleasant and I will not be doing it again, the music in the barn carried on until 6am, at one point a friend wandered back up to the barn to see what was going on as none of us could sleep, only to find the music screaming out of the mobile DJ unit and one man asleep on a hay bale. Next time anyone invites us to something that involves camping I am going to hire some motorised caravan type thing, with walls, a nice mattress and a toilet.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
The day there was that Rugby match that Gareth won’t want to talk about.
So we go and watch the Rugby, because I didn’t go to Manchester and Glenn didn’t go to his superhero themed BBQ (despite paying £7.50 to hire a wheelchair so he can go as the only bald superhero we could think of – Professor X). I’m not drinking because I have had a headache that starts at the top of my head and shoots down into my left ear for four days. I have half a lager, headache disappears completely, I am wondering if my left ear is alcohol dependant. We plan to drive home though, so I continue to not drink, a mobile DJ turns up, I commence drinking, the DJ starts to play the Macarena, I cancel the lager and dive straight into the Jack Daniels. Sarah and I tell some bloke who has decided to move in with his girlfriend that it’s really, really hard living with someone, Glenn tells us off, bloke’s girlfriend turns up to collect him, 10 of us run into the carpark and drag her inside, Sarah and I tell her that it’s really, really hard living with someone, Glenn tells me off again. Girl orders drink under extreme peer pressure and me telling her alcohol is very good for the ear. Our taxi turns up before girls drink does, we leave bloke and girl with the mobile DJ not quite looking at each other, probably wondering if moving in together is the best idea they’ve ever had, and waiting for something pleasant to happen in their ears.
As we sit in the taxi, the driver asks us where to and we all look at each other, we realise it’s only 9.15, so we should probably attempt a little more of a hardcore night and go on somewhere else. Sarah suggests The Thurleston, as it’s walking distance from our house, I am fuzzy around the edges and wondering if Jack Daniels could be made into ear drops so agree enthusiastically, Glenn asks me if I’m sure, I ask him what he’s talking about, we carry on. Wayne tells the taxi driver he’s very attractive, Sarah, Glenn and I try to become invisible for fear of TDR (Taxi Driver’s Revenge). We arrive at The Thurleston, I suggest no eye contact, and that we sit in the corner, don’t start any random conversations and order a lot to drink, Wayne enters the bar area, immediately begins a conversation with two blokes playing darts, starts playing himself, orders no drinks. Sarah and I continue to get sloshed, while Wayne plays darts with strangers and Glenn plays pool with a lesbian. A man with many tattoo’s starts to talk to me, I respond enthusiastically as have warm Jack Daniels coated insides. All in all, we join in with the people I never wanted to talk to, and we blend in in the pub I never wanted to go into, am unsure as to what this says about us but am safe in the knowledge that we have hopefully insured ourselves against burglary, or at the very least have insured that anyone who does burgle us will get a kicking from our new friends The Tatooed and Largely Unemployed.
As we sit in the taxi, the driver asks us where to and we all look at each other, we realise it’s only 9.15, so we should probably attempt a little more of a hardcore night and go on somewhere else. Sarah suggests The Thurleston, as it’s walking distance from our house, I am fuzzy around the edges and wondering if Jack Daniels could be made into ear drops so agree enthusiastically, Glenn asks me if I’m sure, I ask him what he’s talking about, we carry on. Wayne tells the taxi driver he’s very attractive, Sarah, Glenn and I try to become invisible for fear of TDR (Taxi Driver’s Revenge). We arrive at The Thurleston, I suggest no eye contact, and that we sit in the corner, don’t start any random conversations and order a lot to drink, Wayne enters the bar area, immediately begins a conversation with two blokes playing darts, starts playing himself, orders no drinks. Sarah and I continue to get sloshed, while Wayne plays darts with strangers and Glenn plays pool with a lesbian. A man with many tattoo’s starts to talk to me, I respond enthusiastically as have warm Jack Daniels coated insides. All in all, we join in with the people I never wanted to talk to, and we blend in in the pub I never wanted to go into, am unsure as to what this says about us but am safe in the knowledge that we have hopefully insured ourselves against burglary, or at the very least have insured that anyone who does burgle us will get a kicking from our new friends The Tatooed and Largely Unemployed.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Email conversation with a friend a couple of weeks ago
Her: Well I think you should at least try them on.
Me: I think you’re insane
Her: You never know unless you try! And you might surprise yourself, how do you know that you won’t put them on and instantly feel like a supermodel?!
Me: Because that will never happen to me, or anyone else who lives in a terrace in Longbridge.
Her: I think they’ll look good on you.
Me: You. Are. Insane.
Her: Try them on.
Me: Remember when you told me to try on white jeans? That they would look great with heels and when I tried them on it was like shoving a sausage through a drinking straw and I didn’t leave the house for two days?!
Her: You tried on the wrong pair.
Me: Every pair of white jeans is the wrong pair.
Her: Well that was then! You’ll never be able to wear them in a few years so have a go, everyone’s wearing them in London.
Me: No one is wearing them in Birmingham.
Her: Try them on,
Me: Will you shut up about them if I do?
Her: Yes.
Me: well ok then.
Text Conversation, two days later, in a shop.
Me: After careful consideration, 10 minutes of humiliation in River Island and some significant damage to my circulation, it has become apparent that I cannot carry off denim hotpants, I hate you.
Her: Well hello! River Island?
Me: WELL HELLO! DENIM HOTPANTS?! I knew I was right, I just knew it, and there I was falling out of a changing room backwards, thighs billowing in the air conditioning, in front of 2 15yr olds and a shop assistant the width of a 4yr old, I hate myself.
Her: At least you tried something new today
Me: I’m going home to cry into a pillow and think about what I’ve done.
Her: Have you thought about a maxi dress?
Me: And just when I thought it wasn’t possible, you make me hate you a little bit more.
Me: I think you’re insane
Her: You never know unless you try! And you might surprise yourself, how do you know that you won’t put them on and instantly feel like a supermodel?!
Me: Because that will never happen to me, or anyone else who lives in a terrace in Longbridge.
Her: I think they’ll look good on you.
Me: You. Are. Insane.
Her: Try them on.
Me: Remember when you told me to try on white jeans? That they would look great with heels and when I tried them on it was like shoving a sausage through a drinking straw and I didn’t leave the house for two days?!
Her: You tried on the wrong pair.
Me: Every pair of white jeans is the wrong pair.
Her: Well that was then! You’ll never be able to wear them in a few years so have a go, everyone’s wearing them in London.
Me: No one is wearing them in Birmingham.
Her: Try them on,
Me: Will you shut up about them if I do?
Her: Yes.
Me: well ok then.
Text Conversation, two days later, in a shop.
Me: After careful consideration, 10 minutes of humiliation in River Island and some significant damage to my circulation, it has become apparent that I cannot carry off denim hotpants, I hate you.
Her: Well hello! River Island?
Me: WELL HELLO! DENIM HOTPANTS?! I knew I was right, I just knew it, and there I was falling out of a changing room backwards, thighs billowing in the air conditioning, in front of 2 15yr olds and a shop assistant the width of a 4yr old, I hate myself.
Her: At least you tried something new today
Me: I’m going home to cry into a pillow and think about what I’ve done.
Her: Have you thought about a maxi dress?
Me: And just when I thought it wasn’t possible, you make me hate you a little bit more.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Conversation with a tired person (me)
Me: GLENN!
Him: Jesus! What?!
Me: Someone is stealing money from my account!
Him: What?
Me: I am looking at my account online and there is a withdrawal from this funny code and I did not pay it out and SOMEONE IS STEALING MY MONEY!
Him: How much?
Me: £2.80
Him: Hang on, you're actually having some kind of breakdown, because you can't account for £2.80 missing from your account?
Me: YES! First it's £2.80, you know, just to see if they can get away with it, then they take more, and more, and before you know it, they've stolen my identity and we're being evicted!
Him: Who is the payment going to?
Me: QPark BWM
Him: £2.80.... QPark... BWM.... Ha ha ha ha ha!
Me: THIS IS NOT FUNNY!
Him: Q-Parking, Birmingham Womens's Hospital, you numpty, it's your bloody carparking charges!
Me: Oh.
Him: Is this you being stupid?
Me: No, it's me being vigilant!
Him: Stupid and vigilant
Me: I don't...
Him: You're a stupid vigilante.
Me: That's not very..
Him: You burn down any houses belonging to paediatricians lately?
Me: Fuck off.
Him: Jesus! What?!
Me: Someone is stealing money from my account!
Him: What?
Me: I am looking at my account online and there is a withdrawal from this funny code and I did not pay it out and SOMEONE IS STEALING MY MONEY!
Him: How much?
Me: £2.80
Him: Hang on, you're actually having some kind of breakdown, because you can't account for £2.80 missing from your account?
Me: YES! First it's £2.80, you know, just to see if they can get away with it, then they take more, and more, and before you know it, they've stolen my identity and we're being evicted!
Him: Who is the payment going to?
Me: QPark BWM
Him: £2.80.... QPark... BWM.... Ha ha ha ha ha!
Me: THIS IS NOT FUNNY!
Him: Q-Parking, Birmingham Womens's Hospital, you numpty, it's your bloody carparking charges!
Me: Oh.
Him: Is this you being stupid?
Me: No, it's me being vigilant!
Him: Stupid and vigilant
Me: I don't...
Him: You're a stupid vigilante.
Me: That's not very..
Him: You burn down any houses belonging to paediatricians lately?
Me: Fuck off.
Conversation in a book shop
Sales Assistant: Excuse me sir, can I help you?
Glenn: No thank you.
SA: Can I ask if you have come in today to buy the new Harry Potter?
G: Yep.
SA: Did you pre-order a copy?
G: Nope.
SA: Well sir, that's ok because we have plenty for those who didn't pre-order them, can I help you to find one?
G: Nope.
SA: Are you sure?
G: Do you see the book in my hand?
SA: Yes sir.
G: The one that says 'Harry Potter' on the front?
SA: Ah, yes sir, I can see that.
G: I managed to find that from the table loaded with about 200 other ones right by the entrance.
SA: ok, enjoy your book sir.
Me: I'd like to leave now.
G: Oh really? WOULD YOU LIKE ANY HELP WITH THAT?
Glenn: No thank you.
SA: Can I ask if you have come in today to buy the new Harry Potter?
G: Yep.
SA: Did you pre-order a copy?
G: Nope.
SA: Well sir, that's ok because we have plenty for those who didn't pre-order them, can I help you to find one?
G: Nope.
SA: Are you sure?
G: Do you see the book in my hand?
SA: Yes sir.
G: The one that says 'Harry Potter' on the front?
SA: Ah, yes sir, I can see that.
G: I managed to find that from the table loaded with about 200 other ones right by the entrance.
SA: ok, enjoy your book sir.
Me: I'd like to leave now.
G: Oh really? WOULD YOU LIKE ANY HELP WITH THAT?
Friday, July 20, 2007
Bring the pain!
Yesterday I got a letter, it said this;
Dear Hannah,
Here at LA Fitness, we really want you to enjoy your body. I noticed you have cancelled your membership, so now I'm worried you won't be able to.
Blah blah bargain membership offer blah blah.
Your sincerely,
Fit lady who manages the gym.
I was touched by their concern, not many people ask me if I enjoy my body, which is a shame when you think about it, what is life without an inappropriate sales tactic disguised as concern for a person's health?!
So, sucked in by the concern, and curious to find out exactly how the gym is going to help me enjoy my body, I signed up again. It also helps that pilates is back on the timetable.
I am very sad that my gym buddy isn't here to help me suffer, but she'll be back soon, and when she is, I'm going to make her suffer like I'm planning on suffering! BRING ON THE HURT!
Lovely.
Dear Hannah,
Here at LA Fitness, we really want you to enjoy your body. I noticed you have cancelled your membership, so now I'm worried you won't be able to.
Blah blah bargain membership offer blah blah.
Your sincerely,
Fit lady who manages the gym.
I was touched by their concern, not many people ask me if I enjoy my body, which is a shame when you think about it, what is life without an inappropriate sales tactic disguised as concern for a person's health?!
So, sucked in by the concern, and curious to find out exactly how the gym is going to help me enjoy my body, I signed up again. It also helps that pilates is back on the timetable.
I am very sad that my gym buddy isn't here to help me suffer, but she'll be back soon, and when she is, I'm going to make her suffer like I'm planning on suffering! BRING ON THE HURT!
Lovely.
When I was 17 I listened to No Doubt's 'Don't Speak' on repeat for about a month, such was the depth of my heartbreak and melodrama.
Is it true do you think, that first loves will always hold a special place in our hearts? No matter where you go, what you do, or how much you dedicate the rest of your heart to someone else, there’s always that small pocket which can never belong to anyone because it belongs to them?
Or maybe, every time we fall in love, we give a little piece of our heart away, and that’s what you feel when you meet them again, it’s that little bit that he has trying to get back to the heart that you have left, even though it doesn’t fit together anymore.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Things to write about
1. That lovely wedding I went to that one time.
2. That medieval wedding I went to that other time.
3. That time Glenn broke his arm, except he didn't break his arm, but for a while there we though he'd broken his arm and it was all a bit scary but we can laugh about it now except he can't.
4. How my job has gone from yeah quite busy to I DON'T HAVE TIMETO BREATHE busy (note to self - that's only interesting to me).
5. That weird email about the Christmas trees (not to self - Gareth's reaction is funnier than the email, probably should point that out).
2. That medieval wedding I went to that other time.
3. That time Glenn broke his arm, except he didn't break his arm, but for a while there we though he'd broken his arm and it was all a bit scary but we can laugh about it now except he can't.
4. How my job has gone from yeah quite busy to I DON'T HAVE TIMETO BREATHE busy (note to self - that's only interesting to me).
5. That weird email about the Christmas trees (not to self - Gareth's reaction is funnier than the email, probably should point that out).
Conversation with someone who manages Fish
Me: Hello, I 'm just going over some course set up and blah blah just looking at your Electric Fishing Refresher course blah blah more information blah also, do you electrocute the fish? Because that seems a little harsh...
Him: Blah blah information blah blah Electrocution is very good for fish, it helps them grow!
Me: Thanks very much blah blah, might give that a go on my sister's goldfish! Could be a laugh..
Him: DON'T DO THAT! Electricty and water can be VERY DANGEROUS if you don't know what you're doing!
Me: Riiiiiiiiight, thanks for that then, excellent, cheers.
Bloody country nutcase.
Him: Blah blah information blah blah Electrocution is very good for fish, it helps them grow!
Me: Thanks very much blah blah, might give that a go on my sister's goldfish! Could be a laugh..
Him: DON'T DO THAT! Electricty and water can be VERY DANGEROUS if you don't know what you're doing!
Me: Riiiiiiiiight, thanks for that then, excellent, cheers.
Bloody country nutcase.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Flashback!
Saturday night was the uni reunion, I went last year and it sucked royally because of an ex-boyfriend who apparently loves to make me want to kill myself, even five years later, there he was all "you have no soul", which is an interesting insult when you think about it because maybe he's right? I can't prove otherwise, but then insults that make you think about existential arguments and the inate nature of humanity aren't all that cutting really, he's just a pillock.
We decided this year that we wouldn't even pretend to stay at the halls of residence because fond memories need not be replaced by real life, halls were great when you were 18 and your room was just the pitstop between the bar and the lecture theatre but it was what the halls represented that was great rather than the building itself, so we booked a couple of hotel rooms and felt smug and superior for the evening. Nice.
This, plus me drinking Jack Daniels rather than Tia Maria led to some rather mocking looks, Amit now lists me in his phone as 'Hannarr actually' and I had a full five minute talk on 'seriously man, what happened to you?', until I poured half a glass of Jack Daniels and coke into a glass of Tia Maria and coke, not realising that Amit and Andy were trying to reconnect me to my roots, then they realised nothing had happened to me, take away the mortgage and the car and I'm still an idiot. And yes I drank it. And yes I felt like someone had removed my brain and replaced it with ball bearings the next day. Tiny ball bearings. With spikes on them.
By the way, to answer Moch's question, I totally believe that while it's not intentional but Top Gun is absolutely about Maverick struggling with his sexuality, it's the only way to explain the soundtrack.
'Danger Zone', that's all I'm saying.
Anyway, Saturday night got messy, really messy and I can't talk about why or how (how relieved are YOU? You know who you are.......), it's just that now I have these flashbacks, debilitating ones that make me go "oh god!" every so often, which doesn't bode well when you're back at work.
To properly demonstrate how messy Saturday night got, but without giving away any details that will make someone reading this start to sweat in an unattractive way, at one point I decided the best plan was to lock myself in the security room and hide, which resulted in me being thrown out of the security room by some deeply unimpressed security guards. I bet you never thought that you could get thrown out of the little room where they put the drunkern reprobates did you? Well you can.
Oh the flashbacks, will they never end? I want to fill my head with stuff I can distract myself with, like why is Ray in a wheelchair in the previews of next weeks ER? and I can't believe I missed Grey's Anatomy again this week, It's all TV based stuff, I think I prefer fictional drama about men with hair to real life men with hair (that was a clue there, did you see? Subtle, like a ninja clue).
Think about the decking, the calm prettiness of the soon to be finished decking, Ahhhh.......
There are some photo's on Facebook you can see if you're my friend, they're awful because Andy clearly can't take photo's for shit, seriously, I know it's a camera phone but just STEP BACK MAN! Focus.... That's better.
We decided this year that we wouldn't even pretend to stay at the halls of residence because fond memories need not be replaced by real life, halls were great when you were 18 and your room was just the pitstop between the bar and the lecture theatre but it was what the halls represented that was great rather than the building itself, so we booked a couple of hotel rooms and felt smug and superior for the evening. Nice.
This, plus me drinking Jack Daniels rather than Tia Maria led to some rather mocking looks, Amit now lists me in his phone as 'Hannarr actually' and I had a full five minute talk on 'seriously man, what happened to you?', until I poured half a glass of Jack Daniels and coke into a glass of Tia Maria and coke, not realising that Amit and Andy were trying to reconnect me to my roots, then they realised nothing had happened to me, take away the mortgage and the car and I'm still an idiot. And yes I drank it. And yes I felt like someone had removed my brain and replaced it with ball bearings the next day. Tiny ball bearings. With spikes on them.
By the way, to answer Moch's question, I totally believe that while it's not intentional but Top Gun is absolutely about Maverick struggling with his sexuality, it's the only way to explain the soundtrack.
'Danger Zone', that's all I'm saying.
Anyway, Saturday night got messy, really messy and I can't talk about why or how (how relieved are YOU? You know who you are.......), it's just that now I have these flashbacks, debilitating ones that make me go "oh god!" every so often, which doesn't bode well when you're back at work.
To properly demonstrate how messy Saturday night got, but without giving away any details that will make someone reading this start to sweat in an unattractive way, at one point I decided the best plan was to lock myself in the security room and hide, which resulted in me being thrown out of the security room by some deeply unimpressed security guards. I bet you never thought that you could get thrown out of the little room where they put the drunkern reprobates did you? Well you can.
Oh the flashbacks, will they never end? I want to fill my head with stuff I can distract myself with, like why is Ray in a wheelchair in the previews of next weeks ER? and I can't believe I missed Grey's Anatomy again this week, It's all TV based stuff, I think I prefer fictional drama about men with hair to real life men with hair (that was a clue there, did you see? Subtle, like a ninja clue).
Think about the decking, the calm prettiness of the soon to be finished decking, Ahhhh.......
There are some photo's on Facebook you can see if you're my friend, they're awful because Andy clearly can't take photo's for shit, seriously, I know it's a camera phone but just STEP BACK MAN! Focus.... That's better.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Brilliant
Top Gun is fucking great. What is Top Gun? You think it's a story about a bunch of fighter pilots.
It is a story about a man's struggle with his own homosexuality. It is! That is what Top Gun is about, man.
You've got Maverick, all right? He's on the edge, man. He's right on the fucking line, all right? And you've got Iceman, and all his crew. They're gay, they represent the gay man, all right? And they're saying, go, go the gay way, go the gay way. He could go both ways.
Kelly McGillis, she's heterosexuality. She's saying: no, no, no, no, no, no, go the normal way, play by the rules, go the normal way. They're saying no, go the gay way, be the gay way, go for the gay way, all right? That is what's going on throughout that whole movie...
He goes to her house, all right? It looks like they're going to have sex, you know, they're just kind of sitting back, he's takin' a shower and everything. They don't have sex. He gets on the motorcycle, drives away. She's like, "What the fuck, what the fuck is going on here?" Next scene, next scene you see her, she's in the elevator, she is dressed like a guy. She's got the cap on, she's got the aviator glasses, she's wearing the same jacket that the Iceman wears. She is, okay, this is how I gotta get this guy, this guy's going towards the gay way, I gotta bring him back, I gotta bring him back from the gay way, so I'm do that through subterfuge, I'm gonna dress like a man. All right? That is how she approaches it.
All right, but the REAL ending of the movie is when they fight the MIGs at the end, all right? Because he has passed over into the gay way. They are this gay fighting fucking force, all right? And they're beating the Russians, the gays are beating the Russians. And it's over, and they fucking land, and Iceman's been trying to get Maverick the entire time, and finally, he's got him, all right? And what is the last fucking line that they have together? They're all hugging and kissing and happy with each other, and Ice comes up to Maverick, and he says, "Man, you can ride my tail, anytime!" And what does Maverick say? "You can ride mine!" Swordfight! Swordfight! Fuckin' A, man!
As explained by Sid (Quentin Tarantino) in Sleep With Me (1994)
It is a story about a man's struggle with his own homosexuality. It is! That is what Top Gun is about, man.
You've got Maverick, all right? He's on the edge, man. He's right on the fucking line, all right? And you've got Iceman, and all his crew. They're gay, they represent the gay man, all right? And they're saying, go, go the gay way, go the gay way. He could go both ways.
Kelly McGillis, she's heterosexuality. She's saying: no, no, no, no, no, no, go the normal way, play by the rules, go the normal way. They're saying no, go the gay way, be the gay way, go for the gay way, all right? That is what's going on throughout that whole movie...
He goes to her house, all right? It looks like they're going to have sex, you know, they're just kind of sitting back, he's takin' a shower and everything. They don't have sex. He gets on the motorcycle, drives away. She's like, "What the fuck, what the fuck is going on here?" Next scene, next scene you see her, she's in the elevator, she is dressed like a guy. She's got the cap on, she's got the aviator glasses, she's wearing the same jacket that the Iceman wears. She is, okay, this is how I gotta get this guy, this guy's going towards the gay way, I gotta bring him back, I gotta bring him back from the gay way, so I'm do that through subterfuge, I'm gonna dress like a man. All right? That is how she approaches it.
All right, but the REAL ending of the movie is when they fight the MIGs at the end, all right? Because he has passed over into the gay way. They are this gay fighting fucking force, all right? And they're beating the Russians, the gays are beating the Russians. And it's over, and they fucking land, and Iceman's been trying to get Maverick the entire time, and finally, he's got him, all right? And what is the last fucking line that they have together? They're all hugging and kissing and happy with each other, and Ice comes up to Maverick, and he says, "Man, you can ride my tail, anytime!" And what does Maverick say? "You can ride mine!" Swordfight! Swordfight! Fuckin' A, man!
As explained by Sid (Quentin Tarantino) in Sleep With Me (1994)
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Out for lunch
The girl I’m working with at the moment says there’s a great place down the road, we should go for some lunch, I am desperate to get out of the office so I say yes. It turns out to be a sandwich shop, we order together which confuses the woman behind the counter because really, two chicken salad rolls, one with no cucumber or mayonnaise and one with just no tomato is apparently a much more complicated order than it sounds. As she rings up the till she says “are you paying together?” A moment of awkwardness ensues, both of us stood, not knowing the other well enough to really know what the other is thinking, I am thinking “no, she can bloody well buy her own sandwich”, but I am saying “I’ll get these”, she says “oh, you don’t have to”, I am thinking “what the fuck? Why are you offering to buy this person food? You don’t want to buy her a sandwich, you don’t know her, coming here was not your idea, you don’t even like the look of the sandwich, and the woman behind the counter was offensively stupid, just say ok, just say alright then, pay for your own”, I am saying “no, no, I’ll get them, you drove here”, I am thinking “it wasn’t even a mile!”, I am saying “you can get them next time if you like”, “I am thinking, “this sandwich sucks, there will never be a next time”.
My £450,000 house
I'm working in Hampshire at the moment and staying in Winchester. Winchester is very pretty and ridiculously English and picturesque. Normally I stay in a Holiday Inn near Eastleigh Airport, which is a lot less picturesque, with spectacular views of the M3, but they are fully booked (something sporty is going on, there are lots of cricketers around, this is not interesting to me) so I'm staying in the only available hotel in the surrounding area, a Bed and Breakfast in Winchester.
I mentioned where this B+B was to the lady I'm working with and she made lots of ooooohing noises and said that the address is probably the poshest road in Winchester, which is already to me, the poshest place in the whole world, and as I drove down the private access only Sleepers Hill, I thought yes, private drives, large iron gates, house names like "Oaklands", and "The Grange", Trusty Car and I are not in Longbridge anymore....
It is a very beuatiful house, with eight bedrooms, six of which are rentable, but I can't shake the feeling I'm staying in someone's home, when I opened my bedroom window they were hanging out their washing (in their two acre garden) and there are photographs of their children in the hallway.
This forced me to go out for dinner, whereas I normally like to sulk in my room, order room service and stare at the pilates DVD I take everywhere with me but has thus far never made it out of the box. I went to a french restaurant and I was the only customer (no reflection on the food, I think it was more a reflection of it only being 6.30pm),I sat there wondering if this was me growing up, being able to sit in a restaurant alone, and just think about things for a while, I would certainly never choose to do it but I remember a time when I would rather buy a sandwich and take it back to the hotel than sit in a restaurant on my own. Although there is much less of a chance that the waiter will come over and slime across the table at you while whispering in a appalling french accent "what is a lovely young lady like you doing eating alone?", I resisted the urge to say "I have this nervous tick and every time I get too close to another person I tend to accidently stab them in the face".
I got back to the B+B and flicked through the local trade magazine's they leave in your room so that you can feel like you have every right to sit in a million pound house in Winchester rather than on your half finished decking in Longbridge. I found a house the same size and proportions as mine, with a garden about one sixth of the size, for sale at £450,000.... I rang Glenn and we decided that the only solution was to transport our house, brick by brick, down south, why on earth not? I can live in a tent, hell, for £450,000 I'd live in a tree...
I found my dream house though, for £3 million, it has 6 bedrooms, a master en-suite bigger than my entire upstairs, a hot tub, spa, kitchen the size of Wales, stable block and the bit that sold Glenn - A CINEMA.
Now all I have to do, is make about £10 million, just enough to buy that house, start my alcoholic smoothie business, and take over the world!
I mentioned where this B+B was to the lady I'm working with and she made lots of ooooohing noises and said that the address is probably the poshest road in Winchester, which is already to me, the poshest place in the whole world, and as I drove down the private access only Sleepers Hill, I thought yes, private drives, large iron gates, house names like "Oaklands", and "The Grange", Trusty Car and I are not in Longbridge anymore....
It is a very beuatiful house, with eight bedrooms, six of which are rentable, but I can't shake the feeling I'm staying in someone's home, when I opened my bedroom window they were hanging out their washing (in their two acre garden) and there are photographs of their children in the hallway.
This forced me to go out for dinner, whereas I normally like to sulk in my room, order room service and stare at the pilates DVD I take everywhere with me but has thus far never made it out of the box. I went to a french restaurant and I was the only customer (no reflection on the food, I think it was more a reflection of it only being 6.30pm),I sat there wondering if this was me growing up, being able to sit in a restaurant alone, and just think about things for a while, I would certainly never choose to do it but I remember a time when I would rather buy a sandwich and take it back to the hotel than sit in a restaurant on my own. Although there is much less of a chance that the waiter will come over and slime across the table at you while whispering in a appalling french accent "what is a lovely young lady like you doing eating alone?", I resisted the urge to say "I have this nervous tick and every time I get too close to another person I tend to accidently stab them in the face".
I got back to the B+B and flicked through the local trade magazine's they leave in your room so that you can feel like you have every right to sit in a million pound house in Winchester rather than on your half finished decking in Longbridge. I found a house the same size and proportions as mine, with a garden about one sixth of the size, for sale at £450,000.... I rang Glenn and we decided that the only solution was to transport our house, brick by brick, down south, why on earth not? I can live in a tent, hell, for £450,000 I'd live in a tree...
I found my dream house though, for £3 million, it has 6 bedrooms, a master en-suite bigger than my entire upstairs, a hot tub, spa, kitchen the size of Wales, stable block and the bit that sold Glenn - A CINEMA.
Now all I have to do, is make about £10 million, just enough to buy that house, start my alcoholic smoothie business, and take over the world!
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Head. Buzzing.
After my operation I decided to give up caffeine, this wasn't because anyone told me I should, or because I read something in the news, it's because for a few weeks before I was admitted the only thing available to drink where I was working was, unbelievably, these really amazing cappucino's that were 30p. So I went from one or two cups of tea in a day, to five or six strong coffee's, didn't feel particularly different, so I didn't worry.
The day I was admitted, I didn't have anything to drink, because I wasn't allowed, and by 1pm I was feeling really horrible, I was incredibly sleepy, my whole body felt lethargic and heavy, I couldn't string a sentance together and my head felt like someone was inside it with a pickaxe trying to bash a hole out of my skull. I made the connection, no coffee = FEEL LIKE DEATH and decided that I should probably not become so apparently dependant on something again. I took being deprived of caffeine as an opportunity to give it up and apart from a pretty huge relapse in Florence (sometimes the only way to get the attention of a very cute italian waiter is to order a steady stream of espresso's) I've succeeded. Everything in the house is decaf, coffee, tea, coke, bring on the tie dye and wheatgrass because I am half way there.
This morning I visited somewhere new and was offered coffee, I didn't want to appear rude or ingracious so I accepted their offer and now I think my veins are trying to get out of my body. Everything is twitching, my eye's are having problems staying focussed on one place and I typed this whole thing in about 1 minute, I. Can't. Stop. Moving. This is bad, it's like I've had a weird hit of something and it won't wear off, I'm one skinny latte away from painting a mural on the decking with my own blood.
And now Itunes is playing some kind of christmas song because the shuffle function doesn't know it's June.
I'm not sure my brain will recover from this.
Question - We replaced the tea in our house with decaf, and someone Glenn works with advised him that actually the chemicals they use to take the caffeine out of tea is pretty much as harmful as caffeine so we should drink redbush tea if we're going to drink tea at all. It turns out that redbush tea tastes like Mick Hucknell's armpit, so can anyone tell me if that's true?
And now I have to dig a hole through to next door with my fingernails. MAKE IT STOP.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Favourite thing I read this week
You are part Fine Glass of Wine. You are sophisticated and refined, but also complicated and hard to deal with. Not everyone loves you, but those who do swear that you're the coolest thing since sliced bread....
I'm just going to let you think that was written about me, carry on...
I'm just going to let you think that was written about me, carry on...
The country with the ugliest language in the world.
I have been so busy! Which is why no blogging for a while, and certainly not as much blogging as there used to be, like last year when I posted every day because of my lack of a life. Oh! Maybe my creativity got sucked out along with the endo! Maybe the endo was the secret of my powers… what have I done?!
Anyway…. We spent the last few weeks helping others fulfil their dreams, truly, I am the Jimmy Saville of the 21st Century, except with a lot more hair. A couple of weeks ago we flew to Germany to attend a kind of big weekend long party for Glenn’s parents, lots of drinking and an awful lot of sausage eating (of actual sausages, dipped in curry sauce, with chips, smothered in mayonnaise, and some vegetables, drowning in cheese sauce, it is a miracle that Germans live as long as the rest of us but it certainly explains Glenn’s eating habits) and even more beer drinking. Three days where I said goodbye to healthy arteries and hello to being hung over whenever it was day light.
We left Dusseldorf airport in a people carrier, six of us and luggage, six people not used to spending that much time together, about to embark on a 45 minute drive to the small town of Menden, or so we thought. We left the autobahn and took the road to Koln, someone in the back mentioned we might be going in the wrong direction, someone else told that someone to “SHUT UP!”, and so we drove for an hour and ended up in Menden, except it was the wrong Menden and so we drove an hour back to Dusseldorf, and then an hour towards the right Menden, through 5pm Friday evening traffic, making a 45 minute journey last three whole hours. Nice.
At the first party that evening someone claiming to be psychic pulled me to one side, gripped my hand tightly, looked deep into my eyes and said, “I can’t see children in your future, but I can see a lot of dogs”. So that was weird.
This is making it sound like the entire weekend was dreadful, it really wasn’t, we had a wonderful time and I got to see where Glenn spent some of his childhood, which was lovely. He has such fond memories of that place and now I do to.
But I’m never speaking to a psychic ever again, what in the world I was thinking I don’t know, the only coherent thoughts I can remember are “where’s the Jack FUCKING DOGS?! Daniels?”.
Anyway…. We spent the last few weeks helping others fulfil their dreams, truly, I am the Jimmy Saville of the 21st Century, except with a lot more hair. A couple of weeks ago we flew to Germany to attend a kind of big weekend long party for Glenn’s parents, lots of drinking and an awful lot of sausage eating (of actual sausages, dipped in curry sauce, with chips, smothered in mayonnaise, and some vegetables, drowning in cheese sauce, it is a miracle that Germans live as long as the rest of us but it certainly explains Glenn’s eating habits) and even more beer drinking. Three days where I said goodbye to healthy arteries and hello to being hung over whenever it was day light.
We left Dusseldorf airport in a people carrier, six of us and luggage, six people not used to spending that much time together, about to embark on a 45 minute drive to the small town of Menden, or so we thought. We left the autobahn and took the road to Koln, someone in the back mentioned we might be going in the wrong direction, someone else told that someone to “SHUT UP!”, and so we drove for an hour and ended up in Menden, except it was the wrong Menden and so we drove an hour back to Dusseldorf, and then an hour towards the right Menden, through 5pm Friday evening traffic, making a 45 minute journey last three whole hours. Nice.
At the first party that evening someone claiming to be psychic pulled me to one side, gripped my hand tightly, looked deep into my eyes and said, “I can’t see children in your future, but I can see a lot of dogs”. So that was weird.
This is making it sound like the entire weekend was dreadful, it really wasn’t, we had a wonderful time and I got to see where Glenn spent some of his childhood, which was lovely. He has such fond memories of that place and now I do to.
But I’m never speaking to a psychic ever again, what in the world I was thinking I don’t know, the only coherent thoughts I can remember are “where’s the Jack FUCKING DOGS?! Daniels?”.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Email with newly engaged person
Me: Debenhams?
Him: I don't understand! What about Debenhams? Is there a sale? Can I get a reasonably priced non-stick set of frying pans? Explain yourself!
Me: Your wedding list doofus, I got your very beautiful invitation, some very beautiful directions, a very beautiful menu, and a little mini card telling me you were registered at Debenhams. It made me laugh out loud, just can't see you there picking out china patterns... I am going to buy you one spoon, just the one, I may get it engraved, some thing like 'and now I'm off to the shoe department'.
Him: Wedding - oh yeah! Hey did you like the ribbons on the invitations? I tied them myself! Then my lady untied them and rolled her eyes at me. I was well up for Argos myself (Debs is a little too upmarket for my taste) - there's so many beautiful things in the Laminated Book of Dreams.
Me: I particularly enjoyed the ribbons on the invitation, very pretty, my friend Sarah got married last year and she said hand made invitations were such a good idea... then 300 tiny silver hearts later she wanted to kill herself.
Him: I don't understand! What about Debenhams? Is there a sale? Can I get a reasonably priced non-stick set of frying pans? Explain yourself!
Me: Your wedding list doofus, I got your very beautiful invitation, some very beautiful directions, a very beautiful menu, and a little mini card telling me you were registered at Debenhams. It made me laugh out loud, just can't see you there picking out china patterns... I am going to buy you one spoon, just the one, I may get it engraved, some thing like 'and now I'm off to the shoe department'.
Him: Wedding - oh yeah! Hey did you like the ribbons on the invitations? I tied them myself! Then my lady untied them and rolled her eyes at me. I was well up for Argos myself (Debs is a little too upmarket for my taste) - there's so many beautiful things in the Laminated Book of Dreams.
Me: I particularly enjoyed the ribbons on the invitation, very pretty, my friend Sarah got married last year and she said hand made invitations were such a good idea... then 300 tiny silver hearts later she wanted to kill herself.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
What deosn't kill you etc etc
It's true, I had no idea that you people lived like this, pain free?! ALL THE TIME?! I think I've already said this, at least I've definitely said this to everyone I know but it's like I'm a whole new person, and if this is how you all live then you should get out there and engage in some kind of extreme sport or something because it makes me feel like I could run a marathon, or build a house or pull a boeing 747 along with my ears, or fix the lawn that I've accidentally killed when I got a little trigger happy with the feed and weed...
This is incredible, I had absolutely no idea how difficult life was until life wasn't difficult anymore. I think because the problem had been getting steadily worse over four years I had no perception of how debilitated I was. All the exhaustion, and the head being all over the place, and the endless, numbing, frustrating pain... and then three weeks of hell... and then nothing. Just nothing! No pain, my head feels like a fog has lifted, I can think in sentances now! And I'm so excited about it all! To put it simply, I had no idea that I was struggling, I thought I was doing ok, and now I actually am.
So I have to tell you all to embrace your health and well being, I know what I sound like (I really do, preachy and, well, american) but I know what you have and honestly, your health is everything, and it informs everything, I function better, I'm just happier, so much happier.
Unfortunately my parents seem to think that means I should have a baby RIGHT NOW, in fact, right now I'm a little late, the first time my mother mentioned it I was still in hospital but I am thus far managing to keep her at bay. My Dad, being one of those religious types, wants me to get married before that, so between the two of them they're having a tug of war to see who can wear me down first, at this rate I'll be gagged and dragged down the aisle (in the not at all pretentious cathedral wedding that my father dreams of) and knocked up before the ink is dry on the certificate, Glenn will be slightly woozy from all the barbituates they've slipped into his tea. Ah, just how I always dreamed it would be...
After the first laparoscopy in May 2004, I was a mess, I cried solidly for two days, I couldn't stand up for a week, it took me an age to pull myself together. After the second laparoscopy in October 2006, I had a cry when I got home, but then I was fine and I could walk around like a normal person after four days. After this operation? No tears, none at all, there was a moment when Keane were on the TV when I had a small lump in my throat, but that's no measure of anything, that music is gentically engineered to make bears cry. Physically we won't talk about because it's like comparing a rover 25 with a porsche 911, but my recovery has been remarkable, after about 16 years of hating my body, now I feel like I can be friends with it again, I probably wouldn't invite it to the cathedral just yet, it did after all get me into this mess in the first place, but I might send it a christmas card, one of the ones from the large box of 'comedy' cards for work people, not the hand made ones for people I love, we're not there yet.
So yeah, what doesn't kill you etc etc, turns out to be true.
Smile, we're all so very, very lucky, and most of you don't even know it.
This is incredible, I had absolutely no idea how difficult life was until life wasn't difficult anymore. I think because the problem had been getting steadily worse over four years I had no perception of how debilitated I was. All the exhaustion, and the head being all over the place, and the endless, numbing, frustrating pain... and then three weeks of hell... and then nothing. Just nothing! No pain, my head feels like a fog has lifted, I can think in sentances now! And I'm so excited about it all! To put it simply, I had no idea that I was struggling, I thought I was doing ok, and now I actually am.
So I have to tell you all to embrace your health and well being, I know what I sound like (I really do, preachy and, well, american) but I know what you have and honestly, your health is everything, and it informs everything, I function better, I'm just happier, so much happier.
Unfortunately my parents seem to think that means I should have a baby RIGHT NOW, in fact, right now I'm a little late, the first time my mother mentioned it I was still in hospital but I am thus far managing to keep her at bay. My Dad, being one of those religious types, wants me to get married before that, so between the two of them they're having a tug of war to see who can wear me down first, at this rate I'll be gagged and dragged down the aisle (in the not at all pretentious cathedral wedding that my father dreams of) and knocked up before the ink is dry on the certificate, Glenn will be slightly woozy from all the barbituates they've slipped into his tea. Ah, just how I always dreamed it would be...
After the first laparoscopy in May 2004, I was a mess, I cried solidly for two days, I couldn't stand up for a week, it took me an age to pull myself together. After the second laparoscopy in October 2006, I had a cry when I got home, but then I was fine and I could walk around like a normal person after four days. After this operation? No tears, none at all, there was a moment when Keane were on the TV when I had a small lump in my throat, but that's no measure of anything, that music is gentically engineered to make bears cry. Physically we won't talk about because it's like comparing a rover 25 with a porsche 911, but my recovery has been remarkable, after about 16 years of hating my body, now I feel like I can be friends with it again, I probably wouldn't invite it to the cathedral just yet, it did after all get me into this mess in the first place, but I might send it a christmas card, one of the ones from the large box of 'comedy' cards for work people, not the hand made ones for people I love, we're not there yet.
So yeah, what doesn't kill you etc etc, turns out to be true.
Smile, we're all so very, very lucky, and most of you don't even know it.
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