Her: Your father was saying the other day that it's nice to have you back.
Me: Back from where?
Her: You know.
Me: Uni? Sheffield? Solihull? Because Solihull isn't that far away you know, if you'd only brave the motorway....
Her: No, not there
Me: Australia? We only went for a few weeks....
Her: No, he meant back as in, back to normal.
Me: Eh?
Her: You were always so difficult, you know, difficult to talk to, to be around, before, when you had a bob on you.
Me: You've lost me, a bob? All I can think of is hair but I'm not sure why having short hair would make me difficult...
Her: No, 'you had a bob on you', it means, you thought a lot of yourself, you had tickets on yourself.
Me: Uh... Right....
Her: You always thought you were going to get a lot out of life, that you could get to such high places, you know, like you deserved it.
Me: And now?
Her: Now you're more normal, You're just like everyone else, feet on the ground, settled, not looking for more than you should.
Me: How much can I look for exactly, before the bob appears? Because I still have ambition...
Her: Oh don't be silly Hannah, you've got plenty, drink your tea and have an organicchocolatecoatedtoffeemarksandspencerbiscuit.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
And the evening started so well....
This is a special post, for anyone reading this who may at any time have thought, even for the briefest of moments, 'I bet being with Hannah is fun, she seems funny and nice, and when she's got her makeup on and the lights are dimmed, she's just about average looking too!!'. This post, oh foolish people, is just for you.
Last night, at about 10.30, I started to get ready for bed, this involves last minute kitchen cleaning, including any left over washing up, wiping of surfaces and cupboard doors and floor sweeping, nothing too strenuous. I sighed as I realised Glenn hadn't cleaned up properly and resolved to gently bring this up with him when I went upstairs. On my way up the stairs, I had a thought, he's not going to like this, he's going to get all tetchy and sensitive, and he'll give me the look, the look which says;
"WHAT? What could you possibly want? What could I have possibly done this late in the evening to displease you? Are you going to ask me to do something? ARE YOU?! How dare you! How dare you ask me to do something when I should be able to just sit, quietly, and you should bring me stuff, like tea, and rocky bars, and beer, I DON'T WANT TO DO ANYTHING, so what? what is it? Eh? Huh? What is it nagging shrew lady I live with? What is it psycho woman? WHAT?!!!!!!"
I walked upstairs and as I entered the study I said, "Love you, could I just ask...", and that was as far as I got, he stood up, sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and then gave me the look.
The Look.
I turned around, I walked into the bathroom, I slammed the door behind me and I fumed silently.
I came out the bathroom and he had gone to bed, I collected my book and phone from the bedroom, and went into the spare room, to demonstrate my unhappiness.
He didn't come in, I waited, and nothing, usually when this happens I stay there, I commit myself to my decision to sulk in another room and I am never the first to back down. But I was tired, and I couldn't sleep, and I needed to sleep, so I got up and went into the bedroom. But I was too angry, the moment I opened my mouth I knew I hadn't calmed down enough from the look and the expectation of the look, and I said:
"You are pathetic, PATHETIC, all I wanted was to ask you to do something you had already done in a different way, and you give me that look, the look that says "WHAT? What could you possibly want? What could I have possibly done this late in the evening to displease you? Are you going to ask me to do something? ARE YOU?! How dare you! How dare you ask me to do something when I should be able to just sit, quietly, and you should bring me stuff, like tea, and rocky bars, and beer, I DON'T WANT TO DO ANYTHING, so what? what is it? Eh? Huh? What is it nagging shrew like lady I live with, what is it psycho woman? WHAT?!!!!!!" And I will not live with that look! I don't want to! I shouldn't have to! I am not your mother and you do not live alone, and sometimes you should come after me instead of ignoring me! PATHETIC!"
And I stormed out, slammed the door, and went back to the spare room, except he didn't come after me (yeah... big surprise, because I had made myself so attractive with all the shouting), and I was still tired, and I still couldn't sleep so I calmed down and went back.
Except the bedroom door wouldn't open, not from his side or from mine, in all the energetic slamming it had got stuck. I had to get a screw driver to take off the door handle, but the screw drivers were in the loft, so I pulled down the loft ladder, but I didn't lock it properly, so as I was climbing the ladder in a room with no blind and light shining from the hall, wearing a tiny nighty (Hello neighbours! Here's my arse!!) the ladder swung out from underneath me and I was dangling from the loft hatch while Glenn shouted:
"Turn the light on in the loft!"
"I can't reach the light!"
"Why not? It's on the left"
"I KNOW WHERE IT IS, I'M STUCK AND I CAN'T GET OFF THE LADDER!"
"oh."
So I jumped off the ladder onto the desk, pulled the ladder back out, locked it and climbed back up, I got the screwdriver, unscrewed the door handle on my side, it still wouldn't open, Glenn was going to have to unscrew the handle from his side, but he hadn't got a screwdriver, so he tied my scarves together to make a long rope and threw it out of the bedroom window where I (standing outside the house in my nighty, but hell, they've seen it all now), tied the last scarf around the screw driver and he pulled it up to the window.
He unscrewed the handle and jimmied the door open.
By this point neither of us could really remember what it was that we were supposed to be arguing about but we agreed that he is a tosser and I am a drama queen.
We went to sleep.
The next day we discovered that the bathroom door frame is cracked. Possibly from the energetic slamming although I maintain that it could have been a pre-existing injury.
What have we learned from this? Not to slam doors in houses that were built in 1936, and that I am very, very lucky to have found someone that puts up with me.
Last night, at about 10.30, I started to get ready for bed, this involves last minute kitchen cleaning, including any left over washing up, wiping of surfaces and cupboard doors and floor sweeping, nothing too strenuous. I sighed as I realised Glenn hadn't cleaned up properly and resolved to gently bring this up with him when I went upstairs. On my way up the stairs, I had a thought, he's not going to like this, he's going to get all tetchy and sensitive, and he'll give me the look, the look which says;
"WHAT? What could you possibly want? What could I have possibly done this late in the evening to displease you? Are you going to ask me to do something? ARE YOU?! How dare you! How dare you ask me to do something when I should be able to just sit, quietly, and you should bring me stuff, like tea, and rocky bars, and beer, I DON'T WANT TO DO ANYTHING, so what? what is it? Eh? Huh? What is it nagging shrew lady I live with? What is it psycho woman? WHAT?!!!!!!"
I walked upstairs and as I entered the study I said, "Love you, could I just ask...", and that was as far as I got, he stood up, sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and then gave me the look.
The Look.
I turned around, I walked into the bathroom, I slammed the door behind me and I fumed silently.
I came out the bathroom and he had gone to bed, I collected my book and phone from the bedroom, and went into the spare room, to demonstrate my unhappiness.
He didn't come in, I waited, and nothing, usually when this happens I stay there, I commit myself to my decision to sulk in another room and I am never the first to back down. But I was tired, and I couldn't sleep, and I needed to sleep, so I got up and went into the bedroom. But I was too angry, the moment I opened my mouth I knew I hadn't calmed down enough from the look and the expectation of the look, and I said:
"You are pathetic, PATHETIC, all I wanted was to ask you to do something you had already done in a different way, and you give me that look, the look that says "WHAT? What could you possibly want? What could I have possibly done this late in the evening to displease you? Are you going to ask me to do something? ARE YOU?! How dare you! How dare you ask me to do something when I should be able to just sit, quietly, and you should bring me stuff, like tea, and rocky bars, and beer, I DON'T WANT TO DO ANYTHING, so what? what is it? Eh? Huh? What is it nagging shrew like lady I live with, what is it psycho woman? WHAT?!!!!!!" And I will not live with that look! I don't want to! I shouldn't have to! I am not your mother and you do not live alone, and sometimes you should come after me instead of ignoring me! PATHETIC!"
And I stormed out, slammed the door, and went back to the spare room, except he didn't come after me (yeah... big surprise, because I had made myself so attractive with all the shouting), and I was still tired, and I still couldn't sleep so I calmed down and went back.
Except the bedroom door wouldn't open, not from his side or from mine, in all the energetic slamming it had got stuck. I had to get a screw driver to take off the door handle, but the screw drivers were in the loft, so I pulled down the loft ladder, but I didn't lock it properly, so as I was climbing the ladder in a room with no blind and light shining from the hall, wearing a tiny nighty (Hello neighbours! Here's my arse!!) the ladder swung out from underneath me and I was dangling from the loft hatch while Glenn shouted:
"Turn the light on in the loft!"
"I can't reach the light!"
"Why not? It's on the left"
"I KNOW WHERE IT IS, I'M STUCK AND I CAN'T GET OFF THE LADDER!"
"oh."
So I jumped off the ladder onto the desk, pulled the ladder back out, locked it and climbed back up, I got the screwdriver, unscrewed the door handle on my side, it still wouldn't open, Glenn was going to have to unscrew the handle from his side, but he hadn't got a screwdriver, so he tied my scarves together to make a long rope and threw it out of the bedroom window where I (standing outside the house in my nighty, but hell, they've seen it all now), tied the last scarf around the screw driver and he pulled it up to the window.
He unscrewed the handle and jimmied the door open.
By this point neither of us could really remember what it was that we were supposed to be arguing about but we agreed that he is a tosser and I am a drama queen.
We went to sleep.
The next day we discovered that the bathroom door frame is cracked. Possibly from the energetic slamming although I maintain that it could have been a pre-existing injury.
What have we learned from this? Not to slam doors in houses that were built in 1936, and that I am very, very lucky to have found someone that puts up with me.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Positive thinking
I wanted to post something last night because I was feeling sad, after two days of trying to keep smiling, and trying to keep everyone in my family smiling, I was all used up. It was a kind of inward sadness, that creeps in from the edges and penetrates your insides, until the pockets of happiness that you keep sacred are in danger of being gobbled up.
This morning however, after having the (unconfirmed) good news that my father's cancer has not spread beyond a nasty tumour in his large bowel, I am genuinely positive that everything is going to be ok. It's christmas after all, and Christmas is when good things happen (this is the exact opposite of what my sister thinks, which is that Christmas is when people DIE, and I have heard this again and again over the last few days as we waited for the results of the CT scan, enough to make me get home last night and scream into a pillow).
So! We'll have no more bad juju, my Dad is positive and so am I. Christmas is going to be another weird one, and 2008 is going to be another hard one, but I am entirely convinced that this is all, with the aid of some awesome doctors, going to go away.
This morning however, after having the (unconfirmed) good news that my father's cancer has not spread beyond a nasty tumour in his large bowel, I am genuinely positive that everything is going to be ok. It's christmas after all, and Christmas is when good things happen (this is the exact opposite of what my sister thinks, which is that Christmas is when people DIE, and I have heard this again and again over the last few days as we waited for the results of the CT scan, enough to make me get home last night and scream into a pillow).
So! We'll have no more bad juju, my Dad is positive and so am I. Christmas is going to be another weird one, and 2008 is going to be another hard one, but I am entirely convinced that this is all, with the aid of some awesome doctors, going to go away.
What I wanted to post last night
In a Jo Whylie Stylie:
Rocks and Sucks
What Rocks - Christmas Trees, Christmas Songs, Christmas Presents, unexpected days off, Christmas!
What Sucks - Finding out your father has cancer.
Rocks and Sucks
What Rocks - Christmas Trees, Christmas Songs, Christmas Presents, unexpected days off, Christmas!
What Sucks - Finding out your father has cancer.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Internet shopping
Because my brain has gone, holiday... Christmas! And there shall be nothing in between, those 8 working days? Piffle.
Where is the perfect black waistcoat? I cannot find you, although I am sure you must exist, ASOS? No, although a good selection... Oli? No.. Hang on a second! There! There is the perfect black waiscoat! There it is! I will enlarge and.... NO NO NO NO! IT IS ATTACHED TO FORMAL SHORTS! WHY?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!
Search over, the grieving period has begun, let mourning commence.
Where is the perfect black waistcoat? I cannot find you, although I am sure you must exist, ASOS? No, although a good selection... Oli? No.. Hang on a second! There! There is the perfect black waiscoat! There it is! I will enlarge and.... NO NO NO NO! IT IS ATTACHED TO FORMAL SHORTS! WHY?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!
Search over, the grieving period has begun, let mourning commence.
My Holiday, by Hannah Davis, Age 26. Part One – Hong Kong
As we left Birmingham it started to snow, this was how we knew that going away was a Very Good Idea. I had started to feel a little nausea the day before, but that’s mainly because flights always give me feelings of impending doom. This was not helped by trying to check into the wrong hotel the night before the flight, or when the lady at the check in desk said, “Hong Kong? Really? Today?”, both these obstacles were successfully tackled though, and the flight to Hong Kong was mercifully uneventful. Actually, Glenn wouldn’t agree with that, as the entertainment system broke down for two hours, this was understandably an horrendous trauma for him. Shrek 2 just wasn’t the same after the interruption.
And so we arrived in Hong Kong and I had my first “Fuck! I’m in CHINA!” moment. Hong Kong is absolutely awesome, just as exciting as you’d expect it to be, in my realm of experience it is matched only by New York in terms of spectacle and, well, height. We arrived at the hotel (on the harbour edge of Kowloon) at about 8am, after an 11 hour flight, and hazily let a tiny Chinese person take our luggage as we staggered towards the entrance. The receptionist knew who we were, which led me to the belief that she was psychic, until Glenn pointed out that the tiny Chinese luggage thief had asked my name. The receptionist said that if we needed a double bed we would have to wait to check in, but if we were happy with a twin, we could check in there and then, I didn’t even look at Glenn, the image of diving into a feather duvet was too close to resist and I happily agreed to the twin.
BUT WE HAD TO STAY AWAKE, which was to be a common theme over the next three weeks, reject the loving arms of sleep and stagger, blinking, into the mid morning sun. We went on a river cruise, and took in the sights of the harbour. I fell asleep when Glenn asked me why a set of sky scrapers towards the edge of the city all looked the same ‘could it be an alien city?’, possibly, but my head was back in that feather duvet and at that moment I couldn’t have cared less. So we headed back to the lovely hotel for a lovely power nap.
After the nap we went for a wander through the shops along the golden mile, and then got dolled up for a night on the tiles of Hong Kong. The hotel we stayed in was really one of a kind, the Intercontinental housed the Chinese branch of Nobu and four other restaurants, a swimming pool on the roof, an infinity pool on the 10th floor, and a piano bar with floor to ceiling windows, allowing for breathtaking views of the harbour. So we started there, watching the laser show from the tops of the sky scrapers with cocktails. Glenn asked the concierge where we could find some food, he asked what kind of food we wanted, Glenn said Chinese food, and, I know it’s a line from ‘Friends’, but he really did look at us like yeah, that’s just food here. He directed us along the golden mile, to a small alley where he said there were a lot of great restaurants, and there were! There were great Italian restaurants, Mexican retaurants, Spanish restaurants, just no Chinese restaurants. So we kept walking, This is what we do in foreign lands, pace the city in search for an ‘authentic’ experience, this is how we ended up walking the streets of Prague for three hours, with aching feet and grumbling tummies. We found a great place though (in Prague and Hong Kong), and ordered duck pancakes, we requested enough for two and half an hour or so later, the largest duck you have ever seen was wheeled into the restaurant, the kind of duck you imagine died out sometime towards the end of the Jurassic period. It was chopped up in front of us and the skin presented, as the meat was wheeled away again. This is apparently how they do it, the skin is used in pancakes, the meat reserved for other dishes, but that didn’t stop Glenn weeping softly as it left the room.
The next day, after we had slept the sleep of the righteous, we went on a tour, with the happiest, smiliest, chirpiest, tiniest Chinese person I have ever seen. We went to the top of Victoria Peak (very high, stunning views), down into Repulse Bay (named after HMS Repulse and the home of my Uncle Ken towards the end of WW2), Stanley Market and a small but perfectly formed jewellery factory where I came very close to buying a diamond ring, but couldn’t bring myself to that big of a treat so early in the holiday.
And that was Hong Kong, in a nutshell, and a very small nutshell. A brief introduction to a city which I’m sure has a lot more to offer. It’s certainly made me hungry to see the rest of China, and it’s made Glenn hungry for duckskin.
And so we arrived in Hong Kong and I had my first “Fuck! I’m in CHINA!” moment. Hong Kong is absolutely awesome, just as exciting as you’d expect it to be, in my realm of experience it is matched only by New York in terms of spectacle and, well, height. We arrived at the hotel (on the harbour edge of Kowloon) at about 8am, after an 11 hour flight, and hazily let a tiny Chinese person take our luggage as we staggered towards the entrance. The receptionist knew who we were, which led me to the belief that she was psychic, until Glenn pointed out that the tiny Chinese luggage thief had asked my name. The receptionist said that if we needed a double bed we would have to wait to check in, but if we were happy with a twin, we could check in there and then, I didn’t even look at Glenn, the image of diving into a feather duvet was too close to resist and I happily agreed to the twin.
BUT WE HAD TO STAY AWAKE, which was to be a common theme over the next three weeks, reject the loving arms of sleep and stagger, blinking, into the mid morning sun. We went on a river cruise, and took in the sights of the harbour. I fell asleep when Glenn asked me why a set of sky scrapers towards the edge of the city all looked the same ‘could it be an alien city?’, possibly, but my head was back in that feather duvet and at that moment I couldn’t have cared less. So we headed back to the lovely hotel for a lovely power nap.
After the nap we went for a wander through the shops along the golden mile, and then got dolled up for a night on the tiles of Hong Kong. The hotel we stayed in was really one of a kind, the Intercontinental housed the Chinese branch of Nobu and four other restaurants, a swimming pool on the roof, an infinity pool on the 10th floor, and a piano bar with floor to ceiling windows, allowing for breathtaking views of the harbour. So we started there, watching the laser show from the tops of the sky scrapers with cocktails. Glenn asked the concierge where we could find some food, he asked what kind of food we wanted, Glenn said Chinese food, and, I know it’s a line from ‘Friends’, but he really did look at us like yeah, that’s just food here. He directed us along the golden mile, to a small alley where he said there were a lot of great restaurants, and there were! There were great Italian restaurants, Mexican retaurants, Spanish restaurants, just no Chinese restaurants. So we kept walking, This is what we do in foreign lands, pace the city in search for an ‘authentic’ experience, this is how we ended up walking the streets of Prague for three hours, with aching feet and grumbling tummies. We found a great place though (in Prague and Hong Kong), and ordered duck pancakes, we requested enough for two and half an hour or so later, the largest duck you have ever seen was wheeled into the restaurant, the kind of duck you imagine died out sometime towards the end of the Jurassic period. It was chopped up in front of us and the skin presented, as the meat was wheeled away again. This is apparently how they do it, the skin is used in pancakes, the meat reserved for other dishes, but that didn’t stop Glenn weeping softly as it left the room.
The next day, after we had slept the sleep of the righteous, we went on a tour, with the happiest, smiliest, chirpiest, tiniest Chinese person I have ever seen. We went to the top of Victoria Peak (very high, stunning views), down into Repulse Bay (named after HMS Repulse and the home of my Uncle Ken towards the end of WW2), Stanley Market and a small but perfectly formed jewellery factory where I came very close to buying a diamond ring, but couldn’t bring myself to that big of a treat so early in the holiday.
And that was Hong Kong, in a nutshell, and a very small nutshell. A brief introduction to a city which I’m sure has a lot more to offer. It’s certainly made me hungry to see the rest of China, and it’s made Glenn hungry for duckskin.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
We're off then.
I'm going to try and post something while we're away but I'm not sure how likely it'll be until we get to Selena and Matt's house, where I will probably then just want to lie on the beach until someone picks me up and throws me in the shower. Actually I'm not sure we're even going there anymore, something was mentioned about a cabin, ah well! Like I said, just pick me up and put me somewhere, I'll be happy.
We're packed, we're vaccinated, the taxi is picking us up in less than three hours and then it's Hong Kong, Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide and Bangkok.
I've started to feel that pre-flight nausea a little bit, and I am pretty sure I've forgotten lots of stuff but other than that, it's very exciting!!
Please don't worry about Glenn's whiter than white head, he has factor 50 and a hat.
We arrive back on Monday 10th December, see you then.
x
We're packed, we're vaccinated, the taxi is picking us up in less than three hours and then it's Hong Kong, Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide and Bangkok.
I've started to feel that pre-flight nausea a little bit, and I am pretty sure I've forgotten lots of stuff but other than that, it's very exciting!!
Please don't worry about Glenn's whiter than white head, he has factor 50 and a hat.
We arrive back on Monday 10th December, see you then.
x
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Thursday, November 08, 2007
A little distracted...
Ha ha! I'm sat in my house and a bus just went past the window advertising a film called 'Shrooms', which imdb.com reliably tells me is a horror movie based around americans going magic mushroom hunting in Ireland - Now that's a film worth seeing!!
Yeah, I'm supposed to be working, as it is I have bought some shoes, got my Dad's birthday present, made the garage sign my service book, done two lots of washing... What I have not done, is the report that I'm actually at home to write, two pages down, 20 to go...
Urgh this is just like being at uni, all the papers are laid out on the table, laptop is on... and I'm in the next room writing my christmas card list. I am pathetic. Work woman! Do some work!
Our little Holiday Of A Lifetime cannot come quickly enough.
Yeah, I'm supposed to be working, as it is I have bought some shoes, got my Dad's birthday present, made the garage sign my service book, done two lots of washing... What I have not done, is the report that I'm actually at home to write, two pages down, 20 to go...
Urgh this is just like being at uni, all the papers are laid out on the table, laptop is on... and I'm in the next room writing my christmas card list. I am pathetic. Work woman! Do some work!
Our little Holiday Of A Lifetime cannot come quickly enough.
PANIC!
Reply to an email about what to pack when camping in Australia.
So, I panicked when I read that part of the email, the part about the camping, and needing a torch to identify spiders in the toilet, and the part about the SPIDERS IN THE TOILET. So I rang Glenn in a "OH MY GOD THE CAMPING AND THE TORCH AND THE SPIDERS IN THE TOILET!" kind of a way, and we are NOT camping, there is no camping in the tours we are doing, it's all youth hostels and motels or something, anyway, then I kicked off about sleeping in a dormitory in a youth hostel, but apparently it's all ok, Glenn's trying to get us upgraded to our own room, phew! So no camping and no dormitory, seriously, I do private rooms, private beds in private rooms, that is all.
There was also a part in the email about how to pack your underwear, about how your knickers should fit inside the cup if their corresponding bra, so you can find them in the bottom of your bag.
Like my underwear isn't like that at all times, it is exactly like that, it is also colour co-ordinated, in separate light and dark draws.
SometimesI feel like no one knows me at all.
Scoff.
So, I panicked when I read that part of the email, the part about the camping, and needing a torch to identify spiders in the toilet, and the part about the SPIDERS IN THE TOILET. So I rang Glenn in a "OH MY GOD THE CAMPING AND THE TORCH AND THE SPIDERS IN THE TOILET!" kind of a way, and we are NOT camping, there is no camping in the tours we are doing, it's all youth hostels and motels or something, anyway, then I kicked off about sleeping in a dormitory in a youth hostel, but apparently it's all ok, Glenn's trying to get us upgraded to our own room, phew! So no camping and no dormitory, seriously, I do private rooms, private beds in private rooms, that is all.
There was also a part in the email about how to pack your underwear, about how your knickers should fit inside the cup if their corresponding bra, so you can find them in the bottom of your bag.
Like my underwear isn't like that at all times, it is exactly like that, it is also colour co-ordinated, in separate light and dark draws.
SometimesI feel like no one knows me at all.
Scoff.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Possibly the worst thing you can hear on your way to a wedding
Paul: So Hannah, are you dreading this wedding because you don’t like weddings or because you’ve had sexual relations with the groom?
Me: MANY YEARS AGO and can that be the last time that that's mentioned today?
Paul: I think I speak for all of us when I say no.
Me: MANY YEARS AGO and can that be the last time that that's mentioned today?
Paul: I think I speak for all of us when I say no.
Conversation on the way to a wedding
Me: Where the hell are we?
Amit: I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure bestiality is legal here.
Paul: You couldn’t do a job in a city if you lived out here.
Me: No one in a city would employ you if you told them you lived out here.
Matt: The distance between here and civilisation is why people who live in the country kill things.
Me: The distance between here and civilisation is why people who live in the country kill each other.
Amit: See that old lady shuffling along?
Me: Yep.
Amit: She’s off to film her guest spot in last of the summer wine.
Amit: I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure bestiality is legal here.
Paul: You couldn’t do a job in a city if you lived out here.
Me: No one in a city would employ you if you told them you lived out here.
Matt: The distance between here and civilisation is why people who live in the country kill things.
Me: The distance between here and civilisation is why people who live in the country kill each other.
Amit: See that old lady shuffling along?
Me: Yep.
Amit: She’s off to film her guest spot in last of the summer wine.
Conversation at a wedding reception
Paul: Well done
Me: Thanks, I thought I did well, complimentary etc
Paul; Complimentary? You made it sound like this was the greatest wedding you had ever been to in your entire life, that is was maybe the greatest wedding in the history of weddings, it was quite something to watch.
Me: Too gushy?
Paul: Possibly.
Me: Thanks, I thought I did well, complimentary etc
Paul; Complimentary? You made it sound like this was the greatest wedding you had ever been to in your entire life, that is was maybe the greatest wedding in the history of weddings, it was quite something to watch.
Me: Too gushy?
Paul: Possibly.
Saturday 3rd November 2007
Mr Starkey got married, there was a lot of thought that went into whether or not I really wanted to go to this wedding, but I’m really glad I did. I set off feeling like I was on the way to star in my very own horror movie, and it was a thought I encouraged, I debated the best way to attract a serial killer round the back of the reception, should I wear a man’s white shirt? Have some outdoor sex? Partake in a class A or two….?
It was though, a simply lovely day. I went to sleep on Saturday night with all these things going around my head about what I wanted to write about it, and all I could remember the following morning was something about “being incredibly proud, remembering the boy I knew then, watching the man he is today, promise to love, honour and cherish, this wonderful girl”, which just goes to show, champagne makes you want to write all kinds of sentimental crap
It was though, a simply lovely day. I went to sleep on Saturday night with all these things going around my head about what I wanted to write about it, and all I could remember the following morning was something about “being incredibly proud, remembering the boy I knew then, watching the man he is today, promise to love, honour and cherish, this wonderful girl”, which just goes to show, champagne makes you want to write all kinds of sentimental crap
Best quote from a wedding
End of the grooms speech: And to my wife, you have been my strength and my faith for five years, thank you.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
To explain....
Moch once had a boyfriend called Bryn, I think it was Bryn. I forget how old we were but I would hazard a guess at 14/15... Anyway, I called him Bra, not just once, I called him Bra all the time, and one day, we were outside her house and the boys were throwing a football around and I said something about Bra and I think it was that one time too many and then next thing I know the football was thrown at my head.
So my eyes watered and mys head spun and I think I was in shock, I think she was a little in shock too, so I went home, and then refused to answer the door, or talk to her at all, until she started pushing notes under the door, notes that said she was so sorry, so so sorry, and she would never do it again, and she really didn't mean to do it at all, and she was so sorry, and please would I stop calling her boyfriend Bra?
So my eyes watered and mys head spun and I think I was in shock, I think she was a little in shock too, so I went home, and then refused to answer the door, or talk to her at all, until she started pushing notes under the door, notes that said she was so sorry, so so sorry, and she would never do it again, and she really didn't mean to do it at all, and she was so sorry, and please would I stop calling her boyfriend Bra?
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
So, do you tell them the dress is hideous or....
Here's a question; would you rather I was:
a) The kind of friend who tells you exactly what they think when asked an opinion, the kind of person who, when in discussion, says what they think no matter how much it clashes with your point of view.
or
b) The kind of friend who tells you that yes, you are right, and you want me to tell you that you are right, so that is what I am doing, you are right.
I think that most people, when asked that question, would go for A, but a lot would secretly like B.
So what does that mean? Or is it a matter of deciding what kind of friend you should be according to the situation? I'm friend A, I always have been, I can't just agree with a person so as not to upset them, I've definitely lost friends in the past because of this, but I like to think the friends I have are real friends, no one I know would think of me as a sycophant and I wouldn't want to be one.
But does that breed resentment and tension? Does it mean that conversation are avoided and opinions are unspoken? Do my friends appreciate my candor, or dislike it?
I used to put my friends into categories, person A was the person to talk to if I needed to wail and be told that yes, my life was SO VERY DIFFICULT, person B was the person to talk to if I needed a slap in the face and told to pull myself together, nothing is ever that bad you big drama queen, and person C was the person who said who knows? let's get ice cream!
I like to think I could be all of those things, that I could read a person, decide what they needed at that moment and deliver, but it's very difficult over the wires, miles away from that person. Email can be so cold, and my instinct to be honest and plain can be translated at the other end as argumentative and uncaring.
Maybe I should be person C, ice cream never upset anybody.
Actually ice cream would possibly upset a diabetic, but I could suggest a fun fair or something.
a) The kind of friend who tells you exactly what they think when asked an opinion, the kind of person who, when in discussion, says what they think no matter how much it clashes with your point of view.
or
b) The kind of friend who tells you that yes, you are right, and you want me to tell you that you are right, so that is what I am doing, you are right.
I think that most people, when asked that question, would go for A, but a lot would secretly like B.
So what does that mean? Or is it a matter of deciding what kind of friend you should be according to the situation? I'm friend A, I always have been, I can't just agree with a person so as not to upset them, I've definitely lost friends in the past because of this, but I like to think the friends I have are real friends, no one I know would think of me as a sycophant and I wouldn't want to be one.
But does that breed resentment and tension? Does it mean that conversation are avoided and opinions are unspoken? Do my friends appreciate my candor, or dislike it?
I used to put my friends into categories, person A was the person to talk to if I needed to wail and be told that yes, my life was SO VERY DIFFICULT, person B was the person to talk to if I needed a slap in the face and told to pull myself together, nothing is ever that bad you big drama queen, and person C was the person who said who knows? let's get ice cream!
I like to think I could be all of those things, that I could read a person, decide what they needed at that moment and deliver, but it's very difficult over the wires, miles away from that person. Email can be so cold, and my instinct to be honest and plain can be translated at the other end as argumentative and uncaring.
Maybe I should be person C, ice cream never upset anybody.
Actually ice cream would possibly upset a diabetic, but I could suggest a fun fair or something.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Taking the piss
I get the renewal quote for my car insurance, and it is ridiculous, it is marginally less than last year but as I haven't claimed anything in the last 12 months I find this incredibly annoying.
I use a popular website which everyone remembers because of the seemingly compulsory brain melting advert and manage to get a new, lower quote. I call my existing insurers, they go off to have a discussion (for 'discussion' read 'man who answered the phone probably clicked on the button under my name on his screen that says 'cheaper quote for if she phones having shopped around and found it elsewhere'') and come back having beaten my new quote.
So WHY, can I not have it that cheap in the FIRST PLACE?! I've just wasted 20 minutes that I could have wasted looking for shoes!!
I use a popular website which everyone remembers because of the seemingly compulsory brain melting advert and manage to get a new, lower quote. I call my existing insurers, they go off to have a discussion (for 'discussion' read 'man who answered the phone probably clicked on the button under my name on his screen that says 'cheaper quote for if she phones having shopped around and found it elsewhere'') and come back having beaten my new quote.
So WHY, can I not have it that cheap in the FIRST PLACE?! I've just wasted 20 minutes that I could have wasted looking for shoes!!
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