I'd like to take a moment or two to thank the woman that drove her car through a huge puddle/small lake on my way to the hypnotherapy dude yesterday, soaking me from the waist down and covering me in enough muddy water that my fabulous (as announced by lovely waiter in wagamamas) coat now needs dry cleaning. You evil, evil BITCH. This is a tamer version of what I actually shouted at her.
Two things about this really annoyed me. One - the three cars in front of her had actually slowed down and swerved out of the way of the puddle, and I saw her deliberately swerve into it, and two, she was a woman, now from a man I could almost kinda understand it, but from a woman? I hope your children turn out fat and ugly and that you never find another pair of comfortable shoes as long as you live, you rotten old hag.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Holiday (preparation) from hell
What was my favourite part of my 'relaxing' day off yesterday? Was it discovering that even though I thought I'd finished my freelance work, I actually had another two hours worth left to do? Realising that you need to buy your Euros a bit sooner than the day before you travel? Being soaked on my way to hypnotherapy and having to lie in soggy trousers whilst trying to conjure up positive thoughts about flying?
No, it was the bit when I ordered my holiday money, only to find out that if you order over £500 on a debit card with this company, you will automatically be classed as a 'fraud alert'. Now, this is great, it's actually nice and reassuring to know that if some scoundrel had made off with my purse, they wouldn't be able to jet off to Fiji with a suitcase full of dollars before it was too late to catch them. My gripe is - why the hell didn't this company put a disclaimer on their website?When I spoke to the call centre, they said very matter of factly that "it happens all the time". So why no warning? This would have saved me the nuisance of having my card turned down in shops later that day, and a visit to the bank, and a call to the fraud hotline to sort it all out. And we still have no holiday money!
No, it was the bit when I ordered my holiday money, only to find out that if you order over £500 on a debit card with this company, you will automatically be classed as a 'fraud alert'. Now, this is great, it's actually nice and reassuring to know that if some scoundrel had made off with my purse, they wouldn't be able to jet off to Fiji with a suitcase full of dollars before it was too late to catch them. My gripe is - why the hell didn't this company put a disclaimer on their website?When I spoke to the call centre, they said very matter of factly that "it happens all the time". So why no warning? This would have saved me the nuisance of having my card turned down in shops later that day, and a visit to the bank, and a call to the fraud hotline to sort it all out. And we still have no holiday money!
Monday, October 10, 2005
The wrong trousers
Every Saturday to distract myself from the fact that I am at work, I buy myself lunch from Eat. Mmmm, they do the yummiest everything, ever. Every week I walk in there and look the three cheese and caramalised onion sandwich in the eye and say "Oh no my little calorific friend, I'm going for one of your healthier relatives" and I usually have something involving roasted veg and it is (as are all their sandwiches) divine.
Last Saturday my alarm didn't go off, so I woke up thirty minutes before I needed to leave the house. This is the second time that this has happened in recent weeks, and quite frankly if the clock wasn't from Queenstown NZ, I'd be taking it back all in a huff. Anyway, come lunchtime I was staaaaaaaaarving, which as those who know me know, is not an unusual occurrence. I am always hungry. But Saturday I was hungry AND grumpy, on account of me not actually being awake yet. So I looked at that cheese sandwich, and I thought "oh yes, your time has come". So I brought it, and I ate it. Then I ate some crisps. Then I ate a mango & greek yogurt thing. Then I had to phone home to get Mr Librarian to bring me some, ahem, more comfortable trousers when he came to meet me from work. You see, we were going to a birthday party and I didn't really want to have to go with my trousers open, just to be able to breathe.
There's an old family story about my mum, who after returning home from a particularly delicious and large meal out, undid her trousers to make things a bit less painful in the midrif area. It wasn't until she undid the trousers that she realised it wasn't her clothes that were tight, it was her skin. Saturday was one of those 'skin too tight' moments for me.
And the moral of this story? Don't be such a pig Lady Librarian. Lesson learnt. I'm back to the healthy boys this week. Or maybe I should just carry a spare pair of bigger trousers at all times?....
Last Saturday my alarm didn't go off, so I woke up thirty minutes before I needed to leave the house. This is the second time that this has happened in recent weeks, and quite frankly if the clock wasn't from Queenstown NZ, I'd be taking it back all in a huff. Anyway, come lunchtime I was staaaaaaaaarving, which as those who know me know, is not an unusual occurrence. I am always hungry. But Saturday I was hungry AND grumpy, on account of me not actually being awake yet. So I looked at that cheese sandwich, and I thought "oh yes, your time has come". So I brought it, and I ate it. Then I ate some crisps. Then I ate a mango & greek yogurt thing. Then I had to phone home to get Mr Librarian to bring me some, ahem, more comfortable trousers when he came to meet me from work. You see, we were going to a birthday party and I didn't really want to have to go with my trousers open, just to be able to breathe.
There's an old family story about my mum, who after returning home from a particularly delicious and large meal out, undid her trousers to make things a bit less painful in the midrif area. It wasn't until she undid the trousers that she realised it wasn't her clothes that were tight, it was her skin. Saturday was one of those 'skin too tight' moments for me.
And the moral of this story? Don't be such a pig Lady Librarian. Lesson learnt. I'm back to the healthy boys this week. Or maybe I should just carry a spare pair of bigger trousers at all times?....
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Note to self #2
Stop going out drinking the night before you are teaching. People want information, just not from someone who smells like a wino.
Friday, September 16, 2005
They're playing our song
Oh, Bookish Barbara, Andrew W.K. 'Party Hard' is on tv. I'm sorry to tell you, but this reminds me of you! Remember when we saw them at Reading? Oh, such happy memories.
I actually have no idea what I'm watching, but it seems to be some kind of cruel joke chart, in which Good Charlotte 'lifestyles of the rich and the famous' is higher up a 'rock' chart than R.A.T.M. 'killing in the name of'. I think it may well be tv from the world of Just Plain Wrong.
R.A.T.M.? Why, Bookish Barbara, remember when we went to see Audioslave record 'cochise' for kids tv? And we were so excited that we got a bit drunk before we went, and then we worried that we wouldn't be let in? And remember how we made everyone we know watch the tv programme over and over until they agreed they could see us? Ah, happy days. No freakin' way! Super spookily, Audioslave have just come on tv! It's the cochise video! Ooh, I need a lie down, too much rock for someone who has to go to work in the morning.
I actually have no idea what I'm watching, but it seems to be some kind of cruel joke chart, in which Good Charlotte 'lifestyles of the rich and the famous' is higher up a 'rock' chart than R.A.T.M. 'killing in the name of'. I think it may well be tv from the world of Just Plain Wrong.
R.A.T.M.? Why, Bookish Barbara, remember when we went to see Audioslave record 'cochise' for kids tv? And we were so excited that we got a bit drunk before we went, and then we worried that we wouldn't be let in? And remember how we made everyone we know watch the tv programme over and over until they agreed they could see us? Ah, happy days. No freakin' way! Super spookily, Audioslave have just come on tv! It's the cochise video! Ooh, I need a lie down, too much rock for someone who has to go to work in the morning.
Living for the weekend?
No, I'm living for Monday when I get to see Hard-fi for free. Why free I hear you ask? Why, because I'm on the GUEST LIST!!!!! (Yes, that does justify capital letters, bold type and plenty of !)
This is the second time in my life I've been on a bands guest list, (this is the first) and it makes me so disproportionately happy! I did a little jig when I found out. It makes me feel special, and yes, I am going to be stopping strangers in the street and telling them, and yes, I am going to be going on and on and on about it for at least the next six months.
This is the second time in my life I've been on a bands guest list, (this is the first) and it makes me so disproportionately happy! I did a little jig when I found out. It makes me feel special, and yes, I am going to be stopping strangers in the street and telling them, and yes, I am going to be going on and on and on about it for at least the next six months.
Why you shouldn't talk to strangers
Last week I went to speak to a group of GPs and other community staff about the services that the library I work in can offer, and in particular my amazing training sessions (how modest of me). The talk was as productive as it gets, people hear the word library and switch off, but just as I was about to write the day off, I had a super journey back to work.
I get to the bus stop and there's a bus pulling away. There's one woman waiting "You just missed one" she said "Ah, always the way" I said. I thought maybe that was it, a few pleasantaries with a fellow bus-stopper, but no. In the space of the next two minutes here are some of the things I learnt about this lady;
1. Her mum is in her 80's and has always smoked.
2. The lady herself has never smoked, and hates the smell of cigarettes.
3. She plays darts on a Wednesday.
4. She had lived in this part of London all her life until last year.
5. Her oldest son is disabled and still lives at home.
6. She has one other son, he doesn't live at home.
7. Her mum has her old mobile phone.
8. The lady is always forgetting her mobile phone.
9. Her husband had tickets to the test match the next day.
And with that last remark, she got on a bus and sped away, leaving me to wonder if I'd been out in the sun a bit too long and had imagined it all.
I get to the bus stop and there's a bus pulling away. There's one woman waiting "You just missed one" she said "Ah, always the way" I said. I thought maybe that was it, a few pleasantaries with a fellow bus-stopper, but no. In the space of the next two minutes here are some of the things I learnt about this lady;
1. Her mum is in her 80's and has always smoked.
2. The lady herself has never smoked, and hates the smell of cigarettes.
3. She plays darts on a Wednesday.
4. She had lived in this part of London all her life until last year.
5. Her oldest son is disabled and still lives at home.
6. She has one other son, he doesn't live at home.
7. Her mum has her old mobile phone.
8. The lady is always forgetting her mobile phone.
9. Her husband had tickets to the test match the next day.
And with that last remark, she got on a bus and sped away, leaving me to wonder if I'd been out in the sun a bit too long and had imagined it all.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Shoes, glorious shoes
My feet are shrinking! Now, this would be a cause for concern at the best of times however this is not the first time that this has happened to me. When I was 14 I had (UK) size 5 feet, sometimes even a six. Cut to four years later and I was wearing 4's. Which was weird, but I like it. I like having small feet, call me a shoe snob, but I just think shoes look better on small feet. Ah, who am I kidding? I think shoes look better on my feet.
Yesterday I went shopping to spend the new wages that were burning a hole in my pocket. I wanted to get some new work trousers (the pair that I have now are disgraceful, I've worn them so much the pinstripe has worn off!) and a couple of work tops, but most importantly a pair of new dancing shoes for my fake birthday. Shoes to go dancing in, you understand, not magic dancing shoes like Lisa Simpson gets when she discovers that she can't dance.
So I tried on a pair of fabulous heels in Debenhams, the only pair left, and they were a 4! These shoes were perfect, turquiose blue with a peep-toe and a full ankle, a 2 inch heel, and they were reduced from £40 to £9.45 - extra perfect. I tried them on, they fit! Until I started to walk in them, and they kept slipping off my heel. Like when you wear your mum's shoes when you play dress-up. "Dammit" I thought "I bet some sneaky size five has tried to ram their feet into these 4's just to get a bargain, and they've stretched them. Grr." So I left them where I found them, tried not to cry, and carried on with my shopping.
I found a pair of flats that I liked in Clarks. I tried the 4's on. Too big. Hmm. Suspicious. Also, the most uncomfortable shoes I've ever tried on, (and I have tried a lot of shoes on in my 28 years)there's no way that these babies would ever get comfy. (Yes, Clarks, what's that all about? You're making your shoes a bit cheaper, and they look great, but I can't remember the last time any of your shoes were comfortable - sort it out!). Then I try on a pair of gold, ankle strap, strappy sandals from Next. Too big! If it wasn't for the ankle strap they would've been off my feet flying across the shop in seconds.
So, it must be me. Three pairs of shoes, from three very different shops, all too big. And I just can't bring myself to buy a smaller size. Because 4 = cute and ladylike, 3 = small child weirdo feet.
Yesterday I went shopping to spend the new wages that were burning a hole in my pocket. I wanted to get some new work trousers (the pair that I have now are disgraceful, I've worn them so much the pinstripe has worn off!) and a couple of work tops, but most importantly a pair of new dancing shoes for my fake birthday. Shoes to go dancing in, you understand, not magic dancing shoes like Lisa Simpson gets when she discovers that she can't dance.
So I tried on a pair of fabulous heels in Debenhams, the only pair left, and they were a 4! These shoes were perfect, turquiose blue with a peep-toe and a full ankle, a 2 inch heel, and they were reduced from £40 to £9.45 - extra perfect. I tried them on, they fit! Until I started to walk in them, and they kept slipping off my heel. Like when you wear your mum's shoes when you play dress-up. "Dammit" I thought "I bet some sneaky size five has tried to ram their feet into these 4's just to get a bargain, and they've stretched them. Grr." So I left them where I found them, tried not to cry, and carried on with my shopping.
I found a pair of flats that I liked in Clarks. I tried the 4's on. Too big. Hmm. Suspicious. Also, the most uncomfortable shoes I've ever tried on, (and I have tried a lot of shoes on in my 28 years)there's no way that these babies would ever get comfy. (Yes, Clarks, what's that all about? You're making your shoes a bit cheaper, and they look great, but I can't remember the last time any of your shoes were comfortable - sort it out!). Then I try on a pair of gold, ankle strap, strappy sandals from Next. Too big! If it wasn't for the ankle strap they would've been off my feet flying across the shop in seconds.
So, it must be me. Three pairs of shoes, from three very different shops, all too big. And I just can't bring myself to buy a smaller size. Because 4 = cute and ladylike, 3 = small child weirdo feet.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Say it with a card
Three little things
that cheered me up on the way home from work last night:
1. My mp3 player behaving when on random and choosing (amongst others) Veruca Salt 'Seether', Maximo Park 'Graffiti' and Hell is for Heroes 'You drove me to it', excellent choice little music buddy! Glad to hear the days of Random=Manic Street Preachers are over.
2. Seeing two sisters wearing the same outfit - they were in their 60's! Fashion faux-pas, psychic sister powers, or just uncanny co-ordination? We'll never know...
3. The lights turning to red almost straight away at the crossing by the hospital, I usually have to wait about five minutes!
1. My mp3 player behaving when on random and choosing (amongst others) Veruca Salt 'Seether', Maximo Park 'Graffiti' and Hell is for Heroes 'You drove me to it', excellent choice little music buddy! Glad to hear the days of Random=Manic Street Preachers are over.
2. Seeing two sisters wearing the same outfit - they were in their 60's! Fashion faux-pas, psychic sister powers, or just uncanny co-ordination? We'll never know...
3. The lights turning to red almost straight away at the crossing by the hospital, I usually have to wait about five minutes!
Thursday, September 01, 2005
They're off!
Today is the 1st September, which means it's Day One of Adam and Marty's trip from Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City. "So what?" I hear you ask. So, they're doing it by cyclo. Which is just crazy. Infact, it's Crazy with a Big C. They're not doing this for fun, oh no. They're doing it to raise money for KOTO which is the main venture of the Australian charity Street Voices. KOTO trains street kids in the hospitality industry so that they have the skills to get stable jobs, to give them a decent future. Which is just bloody brilliant!
Follow their adventure, and if you can donate some, please do. If you've ever visited Vietnam I'm sure you'll want to help, and if you haven't visited, you really should!
Follow their adventure, and if you can donate some, please do. If you've ever visited Vietnam I'm sure you'll want to help, and if you haven't visited, you really should!
Happy birthday to me?
Two of my bestest friends have birthdays this weekend. I know, I know, I keep meaning to audition my friends so I have their birthdays spread throughout the year. I currently have availability for new potential friends with birthdays in February, May, June and July.
Apart from having to think of two present ideas so close together (oh, the brain ache!), my main problem with them being born a day apart is that they always have a 'do' and I get so involved in their preparations, I start to think it's my birthday too. I am aging twice as fast as everyone else! I'm three years younger and two years older than these guys!
Apart from having to think of two present ideas so close together (oh, the brain ache!), my main problem with them being born a day apart is that they always have a 'do' and I get so involved in their preparations, I start to think it's my birthday too. I am aging twice as fast as everyone else! I'm three years younger and two years older than these guys!
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Queuin' in the rain
I suppose I should've blogged about the Foos gig before now, but to be honest a week on and I'm still so over excitable that there's a strong chance that the blog, as much as I want to give an objective view of the evenings entertainment, I just know that it will come out as "IlovethefoosIlovethemIlovethemIlovethem" or something very similar. Let's just say that Oh My God They Rocked.
The one thing that marred my super evening was losing my umbrella. And not in the usual getting off the bus and realising you left it behind way. Oh no. Last Wednesday it rained all day in London. And I mean all day. None of that "Oh, quick! It's stopped raining for five minutes I can nip to the shop without fear of drowning" kinda days. Non. Stop. Rain. All. Day.
So as we reach the front of the queue, we noticed a whole load of umbrellas on the pavement outside, including a few big golfing umbrellas (Foo Fighters gigs/playing golf - hey, I know I'm always getting those two mixed up!). We didn't think anything about it, other than "Wow, what a lot of umbrellas". So we get inside and this 'security girl' says I can't take my umbrella in. I ask "Why?" she says "No umbrellas". So, enlightened by her super explaining skills I put my brolly back in my bag before going to queue to pick up my tickets, I'll dispose of my brolly once I have those tickets in my grubby little mits. Anyway, security girl grabs me by the elbow to tell me that I have to give my umbrella to "that girl over there", I said (okay, maybe not in the nicest tone of voice, but she was seriously pissing me off) "I'm going to get my tickets first" and she said something about "that girl over there" again, and to cut a long story short I abandoned my brolly! They weren't even letting people take them to the cloakrooms, you had to leave them behind the box office counter! Yeah, right, I'm going to come after the gig , along with everyone else, and explain what my umbrella looks like! "No, not that pink stripey one, it's more, erm, well..." Can you imagine?
Gigs are getting stupider and stupider. And I'm sure that there's no coincidence that the rules at gigs have got more bizarre and the ticket prices have gotten extortionate ever since a well know brand of 'lager' (and I use the term lightly) started sponsoring most of the venues in London. In the past month I have been told that I can't have a (plastic) bottle of water with a lid on incase I throw it, but they were still serving beer and alcopops in glass bottles to the person next to me. I can't take my umbrella in for no good reason, other than I'm sure it greatly amused someone somewhere. (It wasn't me!)
The one thing that marred my super evening was losing my umbrella. And not in the usual getting off the bus and realising you left it behind way. Oh no. Last Wednesday it rained all day in London. And I mean all day. None of that "Oh, quick! It's stopped raining for five minutes I can nip to the shop without fear of drowning" kinda days. Non. Stop. Rain. All. Day.
So as we reach the front of the queue, we noticed a whole load of umbrellas on the pavement outside, including a few big golfing umbrellas (Foo Fighters gigs/playing golf - hey, I know I'm always getting those two mixed up!). We didn't think anything about it, other than "Wow, what a lot of umbrellas". So we get inside and this 'security girl' says I can't take my umbrella in. I ask "Why?" she says "No umbrellas". So, enlightened by her super explaining skills I put my brolly back in my bag before going to queue to pick up my tickets, I'll dispose of my brolly once I have those tickets in my grubby little mits. Anyway, security girl grabs me by the elbow to tell me that I have to give my umbrella to "that girl over there", I said (okay, maybe not in the nicest tone of voice, but she was seriously pissing me off) "I'm going to get my tickets first" and she said something about "that girl over there" again, and to cut a long story short I abandoned my brolly! They weren't even letting people take them to the cloakrooms, you had to leave them behind the box office counter! Yeah, right, I'm going to come after the gig , along with everyone else, and explain what my umbrella looks like! "No, not that pink stripey one, it's more, erm, well..." Can you imagine?
Gigs are getting stupider and stupider. And I'm sure that there's no coincidence that the rules at gigs have got more bizarre and the ticket prices have gotten extortionate ever since a well know brand of 'lager' (and I use the term lightly) started sponsoring most of the venues in London. In the past month I have been told that I can't have a (plastic) bottle of water with a lid on incase I throw it, but they were still serving beer and alcopops in glass bottles to the person next to me. I can't take my umbrella in for no good reason, other than I'm sure it greatly amused someone somewhere. (It wasn't me!)
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Con Yo Toke Lark Mey Surry?*
The BBC are doing a series on dialect at the moment. You can't turn on the tv/radio/internet without hearing some intellectual with a cut-glass accent going on about how "quaint" and "super" regional dialects are.
I'm from Stoke-on-Trent originally, and although I don't have a strong accent, to most people's amusement I'll usually come out with some phrase or word that no-one else has ever heard of on a regular basis. I love different words and sayings and so I thought I'd share a few of my favourites with y'all. (Y'all being one of them). Robbie Williams is from Stoke, so I sound a bit like that. Only in a female voice. And without the singing.
Black over Bill's mothers - this means that there are dark rain clouds on the horizon, headin' your way. And not where Richey Benaud was staying during the 1993 ashes series, which is what my friend thought when he said the phrase. He said "It's looking black over Bill's mothers", she said "Ooh, do you think that's where he's staying, with Bill's mother?" I said - well actually I said nothing, but I did fall off the chair with laughter.
Mard/Mardie - this site says has the definition "spoiled, marred, spoiled child" but it's used for everything, people who are feeling a bit sorry for themselves are "feeling a bit mardie".
Nesh - someone who is a bit soft, but also someone who feels the cold easily (eg me!). In the winter I am totally nesh.
Summat - my mum's favourite! I was always being told off for saying "summat" instead of something.
Duck - a term of affection "Ow at duck?" (How are you dear?) which confuses the hell out of anyone who moves to the area. You can spot a Staffordshire Uni fresher by the look of bewilderment on their face, wondering why the bus driver just called them "duck"?
And the famous "Cos kick a bo agin a wo an' 'ead it til it bosses?". Next time you see Robbie in the street, you just ask him that.
* Can you talk like me, son?
I'm from Stoke-on-Trent originally, and although I don't have a strong accent, to most people's amusement I'll usually come out with some phrase or word that no-one else has ever heard of on a regular basis. I love different words and sayings and so I thought I'd share a few of my favourites with y'all. (Y'all being one of them). Robbie Williams is from Stoke, so I sound a bit like that. Only in a female voice. And without the singing.
Black over Bill's mothers - this means that there are dark rain clouds on the horizon, headin' your way. And not where Richey Benaud was staying during the 1993 ashes series, which is what my friend thought when he said the phrase. He said "It's looking black over Bill's mothers", she said "Ooh, do you think that's where he's staying, with Bill's mother?" I said - well actually I said nothing, but I did fall off the chair with laughter.
Mard/Mardie - this site says has the definition "spoiled, marred, spoiled child" but it's used for everything, people who are feeling a bit sorry for themselves are "feeling a bit mardie".
Nesh - someone who is a bit soft, but also someone who feels the cold easily (eg me!). In the winter I am totally nesh.
Summat - my mum's favourite! I was always being told off for saying "summat" instead of something.
Duck - a term of affection "Ow at duck?" (How are you dear?) which confuses the hell out of anyone who moves to the area. You can spot a Staffordshire Uni fresher by the look of bewilderment on their face, wondering why the bus driver just called them "duck"?
And the famous "Cos kick a bo agin a wo an' 'ead it til it bosses?". Next time you see Robbie in the street, you just ask him that.
* Can you talk like me, son?
Thursday, August 18, 2005
6 days and some hours
until I see the Foo Fighters, 'cus hell yeah, I got the Foo tickets! It was touch and go for a while and I must have clicked on 'order now' about a million times before I got through, and then I held my breath whilst the transaction was transactioning, and then I shouted "yessssssss!" and did a little jig in my chair. I think my new workmates think I'm a bit mental.
I also have someone to go with after nagging, nagging, nagging Mr Librarian until he agreed to go with me. He has been told that he is not allowed to make any comments about The Grohl, but this morning when their video was on tv he said "I hope he hasn't got that beard next week, it really doesn't suit him" and "Did they have to get a drummer that looks like Kurt?".
Oh well, better he gets it out of his system now I suppose.
I also have someone to go with after nagging, nagging, nagging Mr Librarian until he agreed to go with me. He has been told that he is not allowed to make any comments about The Grohl, but this morning when their video was on tv he said "I hope he hasn't got that beard next week, it really doesn't suit him" and "Did they have to get a drummer that looks like Kurt?".
Oh well, better he gets it out of his system now I suppose.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
The Foos are in town!
Which is like the circus only 50 bezillion times more exciting. What with the whole Dave Grohlness of it all. They are playing a gig at a tiny venue next Wednesday and the tickets go on sale tomorrow at 9am. I want to go so much, I could probably puke with excitement!!!!!!! See, see how excited I am, look at all the exclamation marks!!!!!!
Anyway, I emailed all my friends today and asked who wanted to go. And who wanted to go? Why, none of them that's who! Maybe it was because I called them my gig bitches, maybe it was because they are scared of me getting arrested for trying to Davenap The Grohl. But I think they all have watertight reasons for not going. My last hope is Mr Librarian. Only I just know he'll spend the whole gig picking on The Grohl. He's just jealous.
Maybe I'll just have to go on my own. But, and let me just say this for the record, I will not be held responsible for my actions if there is no-one there to restrain me.
Anyway, I emailed all my friends today and asked who wanted to go. And who wanted to go? Why, none of them that's who! Maybe it was because I called them my gig bitches, maybe it was because they are scared of me getting arrested for trying to Davenap The Grohl. But I think they all have watertight reasons for not going. My last hope is Mr Librarian. Only I just know he'll spend the whole gig picking on The Grohl. He's just jealous.
Maybe I'll just have to go on my own. But, and let me just say this for the record, I will not be held responsible for my actions if there is no-one there to restrain me.
Neighbours
No, not this kind, the kind that live by you. And share walls with you. And play their guitar and stereo loud enough to wake you up at 3am. 3AM! In the morning! The middle of the night!
We only moved in five weeks ago, and the loud music has happened a couple of times before, but that was earlier in the night, around midnight, and for only a short while, which is still annoying, but I can let that go. We've had much, much worse than that in the past. Only last night, 3am the music starts, then the guitar, then the singing along. She woke me up, and then she woke Mr Librarian up. So we lay there for a while, quietly seething, holding our breath in between songs in the vain hope that she'd turned it off/down/the stereo had exploded. After 20 minutes, Mr Librarian says "Maybe I should go down and say something". I say "maybe". He says "What would I say?". I say " How about 'Shut the f*** up bitch?' or ' Oi lady, turn your stupid music down' or 'It's 3am, are you KIDDING?'". He says "Hmmm". We decide against going down, 'cus who's going to open their door at 3.25 in the AM? After another 20 minutes, I have super had enough and go down to complain. I stomp very loudly down the stairs, and ring her doorbell. No answer. I can hear her in there, moving around, but no big surprise, like I say, who's going to open their door at (now) 3.45 in the AM?
Anyway, long story short, Mr L resorts to earplugs, and I fall back asleep just after 4.
And do you know what? Our neighbour? A teacher in her 50's. Lady, you should know better.
We only moved in five weeks ago, and the loud music has happened a couple of times before, but that was earlier in the night, around midnight, and for only a short while, which is still annoying, but I can let that go. We've had much, much worse than that in the past. Only last night, 3am the music starts, then the guitar, then the singing along. She woke me up, and then she woke Mr Librarian up. So we lay there for a while, quietly seething, holding our breath in between songs in the vain hope that she'd turned it off/down/the stereo had exploded. After 20 minutes, Mr Librarian says "Maybe I should go down and say something". I say "maybe". He says "What would I say?". I say " How about 'Shut the f*** up bitch?' or ' Oi lady, turn your stupid music down' or 'It's 3am, are you KIDDING?'". He says "Hmmm". We decide against going down, 'cus who's going to open their door at 3.25 in the AM? After another 20 minutes, I have super had enough and go down to complain. I stomp very loudly down the stairs, and ring her doorbell. No answer. I can hear her in there, moving around, but no big surprise, like I say, who's going to open their door at (now) 3.45 in the AM?
Anyway, long story short, Mr L resorts to earplugs, and I fall back asleep just after 4.
And do you know what? Our neighbour? A teacher in her 50's. Lady, you should know better.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
The best day of my life?
I have just been for a good old gossip complete with pizza and ice cream sundae, there's an evening of Britpop on bbc4 (Marion are on!), and our broadband has been reconnected!
What more could a girl ask for?
What more could a girl ask for?
Monday, August 08, 2005
Tonight we're going to party like it's 1995
or "a story about an Indie Boot Camp outing".
Last Friday lunchtime I get the most exciting email I've had in a very long time. It says "Oh My God this looks amazing!", and it's all about this. How cool? Really. How exciting? Really, really. So a plan of attack forms, and despite going out on the Friday night to this, we decide to take the whole 1995 thing very seriously, and pretend that we are all still under 25 and can still do going out two nights in a row. We spend all Friday evening deciding what to wear, what we still have in our wardrobes and more importantly, what the hell will still fit or will last one final spin in the washing machine.
Saturday sees many text messages conveying minor panic attacks along the lines of "I have no shoes!", and results in Clare being ready at 4pm with the message "I'm ready now? Can we go?" to which I had to reply "No, I have three more episodes of SATC to watch and a bath to have". I do these things in order of importance (SATC first, of course) and by 6.30pm I am in my bedroom looking at my wardrobe, and having this realisation: I am not retro and cool, I am just cheap - half my wardrobe is clothes I had in 1995! I decide on a compromise - Pulp yellow "I'm common" t-shirt, with my jeans. Now in 1995 I didn't even own jeans, they were too 'mainstream' for me, but back to 2005 and the fact that I had spent all day trying to dry my jeans, and it seemed such a shame not to wear them. And it would've meant that my battle scar/burn from touching the zip after they had been baking on the front of the oven was for no reason. (However, between you and me, the main reason that I decided to wear the jeans? I tried on my orange skirt - £5 Topshop, Meadowhall, summer '95 - and do you know what?Apparentlyy I was a slut in '95, 'cus the skirt? Turns out to be teeny tiny. Oh my god! I was the Christina Aguillera of my day. Oh, the shame. )
My hair, to be truthful was more circa '98, but then in '95 I had shorter hair than I do now. And there's no way I was cracking open the bleach and pink hair dye for one night only.
Anyway, we all manage to meet in the pub, where we are all at varying levels of excitement. Okay, me and Clare are so excited we could puke, the boys are probably more bewildered than excited. We decide to get to the club nice and early so's we can get seats/get in cheaper (hey, we're only pretending we're under 25). And what an amazing night! Well, amazing apart from the bit where there was a poster of Liam Gallagher on the back of the door in the ladies loo, and I was too scared to go in. Luckily someone ripped it down, and we could all answer the call of nature in peace again. I danced so much, in such a small space! I was escorted off the dancefloor when Oasis came on by a lovely young man shouting "Indie snobs coming through" which did indeed clear a path back to our seats! I met some lovely new people and had random conversations about taking my mum to see the Manics, how everyone wore CKOne in '95, songs that make you cry and the first time you ever heard Mansun on the radio.
What a night. And do you know what, two days later I'm very nearly almost recovered!
Last Friday lunchtime I get the most exciting email I've had in a very long time. It says "Oh My God this looks amazing!", and it's all about this. How cool? Really. How exciting? Really, really. So a plan of attack forms, and despite going out on the Friday night to this, we decide to take the whole 1995 thing very seriously, and pretend that we are all still under 25 and can still do going out two nights in a row. We spend all Friday evening deciding what to wear, what we still have in our wardrobes and more importantly, what the hell will still fit or will last one final spin in the washing machine.
Saturday sees many text messages conveying minor panic attacks along the lines of "I have no shoes!", and results in Clare being ready at 4pm with the message "I'm ready now? Can we go?" to which I had to reply "No, I have three more episodes of SATC to watch and a bath to have". I do these things in order of importance (SATC first, of course) and by 6.30pm I am in my bedroom looking at my wardrobe, and having this realisation: I am not retro and cool, I am just cheap - half my wardrobe is clothes I had in 1995! I decide on a compromise - Pulp yellow "I'm common" t-shirt, with my jeans. Now in 1995 I didn't even own jeans, they were too 'mainstream' for me, but back to 2005 and the fact that I had spent all day trying to dry my jeans, and it seemed such a shame not to wear them. And it would've meant that my battle scar/burn from touching the zip after they had been baking on the front of the oven was for no reason. (However, between you and me, the main reason that I decided to wear the jeans? I tried on my orange skirt - £5 Topshop, Meadowhall, summer '95 - and do you know what?Apparentlyy I was a slut in '95, 'cus the skirt? Turns out to be teeny tiny. Oh my god! I was the Christina Aguillera of my day. Oh, the shame. )
My hair, to be truthful was more circa '98, but then in '95 I had shorter hair than I do now. And there's no way I was cracking open the bleach and pink hair dye for one night only.
Anyway, we all manage to meet in the pub, where we are all at varying levels of excitement. Okay, me and Clare are so excited we could puke, the boys are probably more bewildered than excited. We decide to get to the club nice and early so's we can get seats/get in cheaper (hey, we're only pretending we're under 25). And what an amazing night! Well, amazing apart from the bit where there was a poster of Liam Gallagher on the back of the door in the ladies loo, and I was too scared to go in. Luckily someone ripped it down, and we could all answer the call of nature in peace again. I danced so much, in such a small space! I was escorted off the dancefloor when Oasis came on by a lovely young man shouting "Indie snobs coming through" which did indeed clear a path back to our seats! I met some lovely new people and had random conversations about taking my mum to see the Manics, how everyone wore CKOne in '95, songs that make you cry and the first time you ever heard Mansun on the radio.
What a night. And do you know what, two days later I'm very nearly almost recovered!
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