Wednesday 31 December 2008

my 2008

Chris and I have been back in Birmingham at his parents house. It drove us both a bit mad to be there for a week (bless his parents, they're truly lovely!) but it made me realise the vast differences in the way Chris and I were brought up and the way it's affected our behaviour now. Where Chris is very tolerant of his parents bumbling and constant chit chat (as he puts it "mortally terrified of offending his mother, she's very sensitive") I would have told my parents to both shut up by the second day. Like I've put before, it's not supposed to be nasty but rather endearing.

So this is my year coming to an end. And being at Chris' parents and growing further and further into desperation, longing for my own 'personal time', I sat in bed writing about my year while Chris was being annoying downstairs.

So the obvious afflictions (some not really), meaning that I could talk about getting married but to be honest, I was trying to remember what song we played after we got married, and I can't for my life think of what it was. But really, the song that made this most impact this year had to be "Low" by Flo Rida. I think it's the perfect example of when irony turns into reality. Here is my brief history of the song:

January/February: This annoying song keeps being played on the radio, at least it's intermittently. Still, I am aggravated whenever I hear it. It's not charming whatsoever.

March: Chris and I are driving to Wales and are listening to the radio. We hear the song about 4 times on the 3 hour drive. It's very annoying and we ate it.

April: On the way home from Wales, we stop in a rest stop and see this little Welsh thug like children singing along to the song on their mobile. Equally if not more annoying.

May/June: one of the girls I used to work with loved the song and demanded the radio be turned up whenever it was played at work. It was usually played around 3 times a day on the same radio station.

June/July: Step Up 2 (the Streets) preview is played on television featuring that song. Because I am now unemployed I see it very regularly.

September: Chris and I in Canada. The song is starting to grow on us. We enjoy watching the video and I explain the tattoo on Flo Rida's back being the shape of Florida on its side, to look like a gun. We start dissecting the song. Chris thinks parts sound like UK garage, I like the part where he says: Turned around and gave that big booty a slap whoah!

October (or there about): We read this Facebook profile which lists 'Low' as the best song ever. We began agreeing.

November/December: Condone whenever the song is played on the radio. We heard it driving through Birmingham earlier this week and turned it up and car danced along.

I wonder what 2009 has in store? Maybe my dignity, good taste in music (again).

Saturday 20 December 2008

troubling times for ladies

Last night I stupidly watched this show on BBC4 called WAG Wannabe. It was 1am and Chris and I had just finished Scarface (I'm still recovering from the flu so a lazy Friday night in isn't completely out of the question). Maybe I was all riled up from that but I just lost it on Chris whilst watching a show about women going to clubs, expecting footballers to buy them free champagne and they just think they have to laugh at their jokes in return, and then eventually they'll get married.

In the light of day, I don't really care anymore. But last night, as my over-educated husband and myself were getting ready for bed, me washing my face with $60 YSL face wash and poor Chris using the last vestiges of our £3 toothpaste I was fired up. And I just spouting "I hate girls" with thin exfoliator rubbed into my face. I went to bed so annoyed (mostly because I'm still all stuffed up, I couldn't come up with a convincingly great argument, just a typical one). This morning however, I feel a bit better about our species- that being girls of course.

A few weeks ago, I went out for dinner with my friend Suzy. She's very bright, so driven and extremely determined. She just finished her second architecture degree and with working in London in the 'building sector', keeping your job during this recession is fundamental. She had been a bit down because of her work situation, with everything being up in the air and all, and I of course have been a self-involved, self-righteous tit for the latter half of this year so together, we're great! But in all actuality, we were. We spent about 20 minutes griping about our lives but then spent another 2 1/2 hours saying nice things to each other and being supportive, which shock horror! was really nice. It may have been the many cocktails and bottle and half of wine we shared but I never realised how nice it is to truly believe and say nice, supportive things to someone. To tell Suzy that I do think she is one of the most focused, driven people I've ever met was a good thing, not only for her, but for me too. And for her to say nice, great things to me was really uplifting and gave me a nice little confidence boaster.

I'm sure this sounds all very hokey but for girls who spend a better portion of our time gossiping, complaining, griping about other people and ourselves, it's important to hear good things another girl thinks about you. I'm making it a new rule in 2009 to say positive things about my friends, to my friends.

Say later that night, Suzy went back to her house, had a Bailey's and discussed our bodies and all the physiological changes happening with age (this is because we went out for dinner to celebrate my birthday, I'm glad we just celebrated each other). Suzy's final suggestion to me was to buy a bigger bra. This is what good friends are for.

Thursday 18 December 2008

I just didn't feel like it ok?

I turned 24 on Tuesday. It was anti-climatic.

One resolution however is that my immigration woes are all sorted now for the next two years. Unless Chris and I divorce, I'll have full settlement then and be smooth sailing for life.

But why would I divorce such a hilarious creature? I didn't realise how astutely perfect Chris was for me. Not just as some lover but as some x factor entertainment. How did I find someone so unaware of his own ridiculous behaviour. Maybe it's my family and how we're now all conditioned to laugh at people when they say things strangely. This is what we do. I'm usually the butt of all jokes in the household because I feign enthusiasm and politeness quite well which evidently is subject to ridicule. Sometimes however my brother can say bonhead things too.

But Chris. All of last week was coming out with these zingers that were making me hysterical. By virtuous wonder (and constant repetition), I've been able to remember a few. Let me set the scene first:

We have been back at Chris' parents house just outside of Birmingham for a few days now:

me: what do you want to do?
Chris: I don't know, want to play a game?
me: Ok. Do you have a deck of cards, we could play poker?
Chris: Yeah but we have nothing to play for.
me: We could play strip poker?
Chris: Or we could get my mum's box of buttons!!

a few days after that:

Chris: So I was thinking, there must be a website that has new trivial pursuit questions on them. I saw I look them up, print off a few American questions for you, British questions for me, get my parents in on it too and have a game on the ol' board?

and a few days after that:

me: I'm going a bit stir crazy
Chris: Well I could drop you off somewhere
me: But I don't know how to get back here
Chris: well just give me a ding dong and I'll come and pick you right up

Maybe it was delirium or maybe it was cabin fever. Or maybe it's because Chris is the driest, moody least enthusiastic person and to hear any sort of child like excitement from him really tickles me. Or maybe because if I had said any of the previous things in front of my family I would have been shunned and excommunicated and most likely would have preferred it that way because my sisters and brother never stop laughing. We're not mean, and I'm not either. It's endearing.

Thursday 4 December 2008

fabulous muscles*

*or mussels

I ran into my friend Suzy a few nights ago in Clerkenwell when we were both grabbing a drink and then decided to ditch our friends and go out to dinner. It wasn't so much a meal, rather a show and tell of public neuroses. Mine, for instance, and this one actually stems directly from my mother, is that I cannot have my back turned to a doorway or an open space. I have to sit strategically against a wall or with my back to another patron but never, ever, an open space. Chris is well aware of this and frankly, handled the situation quite cleverly. This however was news to Suzy and we had to change tables because whilst I wouldn't be sitting with my back towards the open, she can't sit beside columns or walls. She's an architect so virtually all buildings in London fall under 'badly designed' in her eyes. Essentially we were quite a pair that evening and when we finally got round to dinner, she was seated next to a large metal column, however that was alright because it didn't reverberate sound. Try the mussels at SOS in Clerkenwell, they're fantastic.

And I think I've over come my inner frustrations about writing and have actually utilised them to better myself and the situation. I had an insanely honest conversation with Chris were I spilled the beans on my preoccupation with his 'tour de force' altruistic yet objection criticism (purely hypothetical, he's barely seen anything yet). Writing is my thing. Reading and critiquing is his. And when you're exposing and reeling, and not in this tra la la way, it can hinder confidence. But we've mapped it all out now, both figuratively and literally so we're back on track. Mind akimbo.

Friday 28 November 2008

grievances

This may be a bit ironic, or perhaps wise. I'm trying to write a novel and I have all the alchemy in my head but when I put it down, it sounds so snarky and really concise, which obviously...isn't my style. And I hate the way it looks and more so, the way it sounds. I have the ideas in my head, it's been brewing for ages and I did start something earlier this month, but I can't stand it now. I'm not sure if I've lit it on fire now, if I'm being far too cerebral, if I'm so conscious of what I'm doing it sounds so nasty and so forced.

For starters, I'm a fast typist. Secondly, I'm a very fast writer. My fingers can think faster that my mind sometimes making the whole writing process a breeze. I had no problems in university writing papers the day before they were due, even 5000 word essays because I find it easy to clear my mind and think streamlined. I used to constantly write short stories when I was younger. From the time we had our first computer up until the end of highschool, I was constantly writing short stories that my parents would read. My final project in OAC drama was to write a play, and did. And it was performed in front of the school and family.

And even blogging, I use this as a tool to harness ideas and it helps me write concise anecdotes whether they're meaningful or not. And I have a written journal, that's used to mostly wax lyrical about my great life, something I wouldn't ever want anyone to read. Those methods have proved highly successful for me.

Why am I failing at this? I was talking to Chris about this the other night that I'm so intimidated by this criticism because he works in publishing and knows the inner frameworks of what is deemed successful. Not that I'm thriving on being that but knowing what Chris knows and letting him edit my work makes me not want to write anything. Which is maybe some sort of subconscious block on my abilities. He reads my blogs and for some reason I have no problem with that, full restitution.

My fingers are tapping out a beat on the keyboard, without pushing down on the buttons. Something else I do when I'm concentrating maybe too hard. Which I think I am. Doing it again. I think this is how sexual frustration must feel for a teenage boy. Knowing that should be able to do something, probably quite well, but you have to keep practicing on your own.

Thursday 27 November 2008

werewolves

Yesterday was passed just splendidly. Old episodes of the OC on dvd, warm lunch, yoga, all the makings of tranquility. Wednesday is usually my counterproductive day then Thursday I clean up the mess that I've made and feel better about doing nothing the day before. I was very mellowed out.

Took the bus into Angel and met Chris for an early showing of Choke and Mucho Mas. We had an array of sweeties and laughed at inappropriate lines in the film (that you are supposed to laugh at but I think everyone in the cinema didn't feel it was right, and at some points, we were the only two laughing, which makes it feel illicit but you know it's not). Still very calm, serene. We get back home and I call my sister. We laugh quite a bit, mostly at things about my brother. It's all very docile still.

Bed time. Chris and I laugh and this is usually the time that I torture him by making whiny noises (by torture, I mean just doing impressions of him...whining). Brushed teeth. Washed face. Still placid, but a little bit cold. We always read before bed and I'm currently reading Dork Whore by Iris Bahr. It's her travel memoir and it's quite funny however it does not invoke any crazy fantastical subconscious memos in my mind so just bare that thought.

Quietly we read, sometimes we read stuff out loud to each other that we find particularly funny. Then we hear all this roaring. Our bedroom is on the canal side of the flat towards the back and it sounds like it's coming from beside us and to the front. It's a bit alarming but Chris doesn't seem to think much of it. It's getting progressively louder now, more phlegmy, quite visceral. We look at each other a bit confused and Chris thinks it's someone watching tv, but my immediate reaction is tyrannosaurus rex. I'm rather tense now but Chris doesn't seem phased. It kind of stops, then starts again ever more loudly.

I'm thankful that we're in the flat but know that a t rex could easily break down our front door. And now the noises seem like they're all around us, and there are people now shouting and I am genuinely afraid. I remember after I saw Jurassic Park in cinema with my family, I dreamt a t rex was in our house and I lodged myself between two sofas. But I can still picture from my dream, looking up and seeing his big bite chomping down but unable to get me. This all comes flashing back.

We decide we need to investigate because its' been going on for over half an hour now and it's nearly 1am. So we go into the kitchen and open the window and hear all this shouting and nonsense. And we can see people across the road are standing on their balconies watching something happening in the distance. The angle is too sharp for us to see anything so Chris opens the front door and leans out. I yell for him to a)not get shot and b)not get eaten.

Yeah, it was just some super drunk guy, sitting on a wall, who was yelling at the police about how "he saw death" when was young. Roar.

Monday 24 November 2008

chilly

I am freezing. I am a warm person but I am freezing. This weekend dropped about 33 degrees. Early Friday evening, I met with Skye and went for wine and private club tapas (which, to be honest was only mini fish and chips and chips and chips) then Chris and I were supposed to go out with Pippa and Jonas however the gig we ordered tickets for, sold out before they could acquire. So Chris and I went alone. I'm not so much into new music as I am into discovering music that is new to me and I think Friday night was an excellent example of such.

I'm not snobby, pretentious, wankery (I hope) about music however I do feel strongly against the over-hype of something mediocre. We saw this band/chick named Little Boots which people keep banging on about. And not that she was bad, but each of her songs sounded like a disco song. It could have been the wine that made me hear things other than the way I'm supposed to hear them, but the first song they played sounded exactly like 'Ring my Bell'. I take grievance to the idea that someone could write that they're/she is so amazing when she sounds like a song from one of the most panned musical genres. I know my argument has serious holes but my feet are cold and I don't wish to dig deeper.

Yesterday, Chris and I had tickets to see Clinic, who I have never seen live before. I guess we were on some musical escapade this weekend because we rarely go to gigs any more, unless it's something really worth it. Anyway, so Clinic when they perform wear scrubs, doctors mask etc and because I hadn't seen them live, I wondered how they would sound singing through their masks which sparked this huge debate/argument with Chris and I about musicians who wear costumes/have stage personaes/use a shtick and whether when they record, should they wear their outfits or not. I don't want to get into the nitty gritty because before we had this argument, I said that I felt as a person that I'm "post-pretentious" and what we discussed, that really did carry on ALL DAY LONG makes me sound like a supertwat.

Anyway, so when Clinic perform, they cut slits in their doctor's masks so they can sing without the restraint. I thought it made them look like scary birds. Nonetheless, that was an excellent gig.

Tuesday 18 November 2008

presumably

I have this awful stomach ache right now. It's as if I drunk half a pint of bleach (I haven't
rest assured. How I feel is an assumption of how it would feel to drink half a pint of bleach).

I'm a bit confused as well because I hear the clock in our kitchen ticking, except the battery died last week. And no, rest assured, it's not the assumed sound of my typing that I think is the ticking.

Maybe I haven't been drinking bleach but rather, sniffing glue.

That's a falsity as well. But I did only eat half a salad this evening for dinner before feeling so full and sick to my stomach. Assumably, I'm getting Chris' flu.

Monday 17 November 2008

wwwords

Reorganise, revamp and never mention any boring bits again. This is my promise.

But I have now succumb to bare legs, house coat, Uggs (which I only wear inside, I have cold extremities, not that it does excuse that choice, but at the very least, they're not crocs), glasses, sloppy hair, cups of tea and tissues. It's a very lovely site indeed.

Yesterday, Chris and I were supposed to go to Argos except he wasn't feeling very well and it was pouring with rain. I've read our 7lbs in 7 days juice book and Jason Vale keeps banging on about mini trampolines and how NASA thinks it's the perfect form on exercise as you use nearly every muscle in your body. And I figure that jumping up and down is better than sitting on my ass so I thought we should get one. Chris of course, being so rational and/or a party pooper, thinks it's a bit silly. But I know he'll be jealous when I'm bouncing around and he's doing nothing. I've already set out rules that if he makes fun, he can't jump.

Regardless, I have never been to Argos and I'm a bit nervous about the protocol. So Chris explained it very clearly for me to understand. Essentially, it's the internet but in person. Here is a more detailed version of Chris' theory:

"So you walk in and there are tables with brochures on them. You search through and find what you need. Basically Argos was invented before the internet but it's the same principle. You look through pictures in these brochures and once you find what you're after, you write it down, bring it to the front desk and the people then call the men in the back who go through their warehouse and find it for you. You have to wait about 10 minutes but then they bring it out from the back for you".

Wisely put. But then I started thinking of the etymology of the word INTERNET. So I looked it up:

Saturday 15 November 2008

oh wait, there's still more to come

Here's a friendly tip: profile your taxi driver before you get in his car.

Yesterday I received some shocking news about my marriage visa and another 3 hour interview and another £600 payment would need to be made. I went off the deep end a bit about it on the phone to Chris in the afternoon because I do feel like a second class citizen and am so tired of discussing my personal relationship with strangers in a formal matter. It's unnerving and feel it's demoralising considering I'm educated, speak the language am from the Common Wealth. Clearly I have a massive chip on my shoulder but it's been over 6 months of this shit and yesterday was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I was supposed to meet up with old friends from work yesterday earlier in the afternoon then head over to meet everyone else, presumably for dinner so I didn't eat before hand. A friend met me for a quick tea then we headed to Soho. Evidently dinner was not being had by all and I'm neurotic and can't really eat in front of people when they're not. So I ordered a beetroot tart (beetroot being a new super food that I'm fastly enjoying). Another friendly tip: Try not to drink so much wine when all you've eaten is a nouveau cuisine tart. Not too embarrassing to behold (fingers crossed) and it was great to see everyone from work again. So the evening comes to a close around 10.30 because people have other plans/are exhausted from a heavy work week.

So I plop myself in a taxi and for some reason I get all worked up about my immigration status and the credit crunch and start a friendly conversation with the taxi driver that turns into basically a shouting match. I don't know why but this has happened before (minus the shouting) that I'm picked up by a social conservative- probably a driver for the BNP. He starts yelling at me that I should either leave his country or "pay up and shut up". He was upset that Obama was elected as he doesn't trust blacks or Asians, and when we started discussing education, someone else felt that he had a chip on his shoulder as well. Even sitting in front of my flat we kept arguing (amazingly though, he had turned the meter off). I paid, went upstairs and told Chris then ate some chips.

As awful as it is to hear about someone's racial prejudices, especially from someone who has such an empty argument, it was a bit of an eye opener to myself that I need to chill out. Before coming to the UK I had never thought about immigration, I didn't even give race or religion a real second thought either because I was brought up accepting and acknowledging equality, judgement on character. Now being here and immersed in it, I realise and understand completely why so many people enter this country, enter Canada, enter the US or virtually any other western country illegally. It's an elitist system where money and class coexist. I was so hell bent on being Canadian, being Common Wealth that my right to live here and work here should be granted- but it's not really the case at all. It does have its advantage because I have to take an english literacy test but ultimately it's if you have the money to pay for each phase of acquiring a life here that counts. You have to pay for your visas, cannot recourse public funds however you can't work either when it's being processed so therefore you have to have money to live on essentially for 6 months.

In an age where education is ubiquitous and where we're shifting from being cash rich and time poor, it's interesting to field these questions. I'm so sick of ranting about this because I'm losing my point but my own social prejudices are being questioned and the idea that this is not equality for all is quite demeaning. I'm fortunate enough to have the funds to support myself and this stinky bureaucratic process and yes as a Canadian I feel that I have a certain entitlement to be here, living and working with my British husband however I'm sure there are many, plenty of others who aren't as lucky.

Wednesday 12 November 2008

things I thought about before I could fall asleep

Yesterday, being the first sunny day in London in about 5 days, I decided I would venture out to Upper st., to my favourite boutique on the top end. So I did a bit of shopping for the afternoon and met Chris about 6pm for Mucho Mas. So he's really tired at Mucho because he didn't sleep well last night. And I haven't been sleeping well all week because I'm lying next to 'snore face magee' as I like to tell him at 4am when he wakes me up.

I am a very deep sleeper but I promise you no hyperbole, it's like sleeping next to a snoring Dracula. Seriously, at 2.30am last night when I was trying to fall asleep and 'Count Snore Face Magee' was rattling around, I thought if Dracula snored, this is what it would sound like. Imagine Dracula coming for your neck, the sound of drooly, throatal noises he would make, that's my husband, the Count, asleep.

That's just to paint a pretty little picture for you. But you know when you're thinking about stuff during the day and when it comes to bedtime, you sometimes can't get it out of your head? So at Mucho Mas, we were talking about Chris publishing job and him being exceptional at grammar and how the Saw V sign on buses here is grammatically incorrect. And he wanted to pretend to be Daniel Radcliffe (not a far off bet since they look so similar) and call up Lionsgate Studio and pretend that Daniel was interested in doing a slasher film. I reminded him that Daniel would doubtfully be looking for his own projects, that his agent would be, and doubtful at that since I'm sure they come to him. Anyway so I made a comment that a horror film with Daniel Radcliffe could be called 'Harry Slaughter'.

And so it begins, at around 2.30 after trying to fall asleep for nearly an hour and a half, I start thinking of different takes on Harry Potter. This the mental list I devised with genres:

Harry Slaughter- horror
Harry Slutter- porno
Harry Shot Her- film noir
Harry Brought Her? - teen rom com
Harry Not Her- rom com
Harry's Daughter- coming of age

That's all I can remember for now. I think that little game however helped me fall asleep.

Monday 10 November 2008

quick summary

Here are things that have happened in the past week:

-DYSON! Our flat is spotless. Even still after 5 days. Impressive for us.
-Flash allergy attacks the day the dyson arrived. It was as if it knew I had reach the dust breaking point. I did erupt. I sneezed a
lot.
-Boutique shopping in the west end. I'm becoming fast friends with the girls and boy at Luella.
-Dim Sum on Friday night with Chris. He hesitated to meet me west because he assumed I would drag him shopping. I didn't. I
kept my promise and took him out to dinner. We over-ordered and ate way too much. I had to be rolled home.
-Late that night we watched the Orphanage. It scared the wits out of both of us. I wish I understood Spanish because when
shielding my face with a pillow, I couldn't read the subtitles. That night, whenever either of us had to go to the toilet, the other
had to wait outside. It's that scary.
-Saturday was house party with friends. I was told that I was the first married person somenoe had met at a house party. I don't
know if that was mildly insulting or not. Then some guy locked me in his bedroom. But my friend banged on the door and he
obliged and opened it. I stuck to the people that I knew after that. And realised that even being married, I can still get people's
numbers. Even if those people are girls and we want to be friends. Double dates a go-go.

Yesterday/Today. It won't stop raining in London. There is a sample sale at Reiss that I want to go to. I am afraid that if I go outside, I'll melt. I do have Pippa's umbrella which I may use (sorry and thanks Pippa at the same time, I know that you're close to Dotty). However it does look torrential out there.

Tuesday 4 November 2008

D Day

Last night I get a phone call from our friend Siddh who is hyper political, hilarious and tricked me into admitting something I hadn't even done. The reason he phoned was so we could watch the American election over at his flat. Apparently some other friends are going to be there as well. I love how this has turned into a sporting event. You can bet that I'm going to bring chips. And yes, whilst history is being made (fingers crossed!!!) I can't help but feel that tomorrow, my D Day is much more important than America's 'Decision Day'.

Wednesday, or Dyson Day as I'd like to call it from now on, will be glorious. I ordered a Dyson from Comet, top of the line, with the pivot ball. On Sunday, Chris and I went to Ikea and bought a few wardrobes and another book case along with loads of frames and vases and stuff so I have been doing my wifely duty of reorganising the flat whilst Chris puts things together (fuck you, you fucking fuck is what I hear coming from the other room at night now. It's hilarious!). Come tomorrow, our house will be allergen free, dust free, so clean, I'm so happy! This is bad though. Chris is now working full time while I stay at home and tend to the cleaning. But at least I'm making my own choice of being excited for a vacuum cleaner. I think that Chris is a bit more excited about the election. And this is why we work so well together.

Tuesday 28 October 2008

it's a nice day to start again

I don't know how to use our scanner otherwise I would post a few polaroids we took from our wedding day. It was charming, whimsical, effervescent, I'd hope a real crowd pleaser. I'm happy and Chris is happy so ultimately that's what matters most. That and I get to wear Tiffany's for the rest of my life. And we got a juicer as a gift and my husband has found his new calling.

Today I'm dress in head to toe black, turtle necks and black jeans. I think I just needed a break from the light and bright. And tomorrow I'm going to cut my hair.

The temperature in London has dropped hugely with the one plus being it's sunny and the other plus being it's not freezing yet. I think for the month of November I'm going to consume only juice. My detoxing is rubbish because I always cave and drink or eat three steaks in one week but in all seriousness I'm not going to consume any meat for November and try my darndest not to drink any booze. We have a juice and smoothies recipe book and I know that Chris proclamation of "from now on I'm only buying industrial amounts of fruit" means only a liquid diet. The amount of food I ate on Saturday is unreal. Last night we had pizza as a final hurrah but I honestly can't put anything else solid into my mouth. Well I did have left over pizza this afternoon for lunch but my stomach is so far expanded right now it's unreal.

One highly evident advance I've had biologically from marriage is these spots (or acne) I've had on my forehead as completely cleared up. I still get the odd spot on my face but I've never had any creep up on my forehead until about 6 months ago when it was really bad along my hair line and just simply red and irritated. I woke up on the wedding day and mosturised and when I came back into the bathroom to assess the situation, I noticed that it was completely clear. I think that area of the face is linked with stress so it could be that, or just the fear of dying alone maybe, or ultimately I'm now a grown up and had to grow out of it. Or that the British summer is over and my skin is immaculate in the winter. All of these theories are viable but I'm going with the 'til death do us part' stress relief that I hopefully now, won't be alone for the rest of my life, which I had feared for about 9/10ths of my life.

My husband started a new job today that he is really excited about and I just spent about 3 hours on myspace for the first time in two months, lurking out strangers blogs. I'm promising myself tomorrow that I start getting real and committing myself to doing what I want to do with my life, as now I have one less thing to worry about. Spotty foreheads.

Friday 10 October 2008

sickly sweet

I have the worst heartburn right now. I think it's a physiological reaction to wedding. Last night, I was scrolling through my ipod looking for suitable songs when I got this massive rush of adrenaline and made my stomach a bit upset. It could be largely in part to the fact of schmultz, i.e. we don't want anything schmultzy. Ugh, my stomach just gurgled again. I think I need to clean this entire flat to get rid of this feeling. I could so easily throw up right now.

Tonight is 90s dancing with Pippa, Jonas, I'm sure others are coming along as well. Tomorrow is girls night, which I'm not sure what that entails but it's going to involve champagne and an edited version of London. The very cosmopolitan London, the clean, steely London, with bricks and soft lightening. None of this knife crime, crowded, dirty London. This elegant London is also the same I'm showing my mother when she comes as well. I can't image her boding well with the east end hoodies. However, in my mother's defense, the woman has become a bit hip. When we were home, she was telling me all of this Amy Winehouse gossip and singing along to both her and Katy Perry. Apparently my mother knows all the words to 'I Kissed a Girl' which let me add, has really only started to become popular here (but I still think it's a bit sub-par, and laugh at Chris' version- I Kissed your Mum, not to be confused with my mother's version which is mutually exclusive from Chris').

Tuesday 7 October 2008

cheating sleep

I am such a loser. Few reasons why. One major one being that I've back in London for a week now and have completely screwed up my sleeping schedule. Few reasons for that. When we arrived home last Tuesday, I took a nap and therefore couldn't fall asleep that night. Which lead me to not being able to fall asleep during the subsequent nights (a.k.a all of this week, thank you very much) so now I fall asleep at 3.30am and wake up at 12pm really befuddled, and with lots of hair all around my face. Green tea may also be playing a part in this. I should stop making my green tea taste like a double espresso and should probably stop drinking it after 9pm. Honestly, it's 2.44am and I'm jittery.

And lame. Part b. When I was home, in retaliation for all of my stuff stolen over the years, I stole a few of my sister's books (sorry Emma). With Choke by Palahniuk coming out in cinema I thought I had better read the book before seeing the movie because I can't erase images from my head (not that I can really erase written word, but for me, personally, it's better to read the book then see the film. I've had to abandon books that I've seen the film to first mid read because all I'm seeing are flashing pictures of said film...blah blah blah). Anyway, the temptation of the film and only having 30 pages left of the book lead me to light up my internet crack pipe equivalent (wiki:) and bloody wiki the damn movie. So scrolling through, all is fine, except then reading the character descriptions, giving away the massive revelation. I am so annoyed with myself. I found out the next chapter, when finishing the book at 2.20am this morning, however that's my favourite part of anything, books, movies, philosophy, what have you, where it comes crashing down and you feel so clever for figuring it out. It's extremely vain but enlightening, and also a great feeling of community that you, along with a New York Times Bestseller slew could figure out the symbolism, metaphors, head-scratching hilarity that ensues, not necessarily just in this book and film adaptation but in all. And I'm lame because I spoiled it all by looking on IMDB and wiki.

Further revelations for later, probably tomorrow afternoon. Or today afternoon.

Thursday 2 October 2008

here comes a low

Cyborg bitch- my new way of describing myself. I can sit in a car and take multiple abuses about my character but someone asks me a valid question and it pushes me over the edge. I lost my nerve today. via email. It's actually rather anti-climatic because I followed the annoyed vent paragraph with an apology for being a turbo bitch however I feel a bit guilty. Sorry Suzy. Blame the jetlag and the 'w' word.

So home. I went, and now have a lapsed jaded perception of the word. I actually have that lost feeling where I don't know which way is up, which again could be attributed to jetlag but it could also be that I'm becoming a bit of a c-u-n-t. At home, I went to visit friends in Toronto which was extremely fun but different. I'm no longer part of that community and not that it's apparent but you can't help but notice the tug.

Feet up I'm thinking about home. And I suppose noticing all those things that were different about it last night made me realise how good it is to be here, and how anal retentive I am. My skewered version now is here. I just wish that my dad hadn't become so sentimental and my mother wouldn't feel so sorry for herself. Maybe what I'm feeling isn't jetlagged but that I'm being yanked in directions that I don't want to go in, but I'm in this car, and even though I am myself, my character isn't there because I can't say anything. Don't mention the word 'schlep' to me either. What a miserable old bint I'm becoming. Or that I slept 7 hours last night, 20 minutes the night before, and 6 hours the night before that. And I can currently hear Chris snoring through the walls.

Tuesday 30 September 2008

here comes a high

I feel awful. Chris feels worse. I like being home though. And I'm looking forward to not having to discuss my relationship (discuss, be interrogated) with strangers again. Until Thursday.

We're back in London now and something is a bit off. The weather is cold. It's raining and we're back to the left side of life. However my DVDs are rearranged, the curtains aren't drawn the way I have them and there's a lip in the duvet (I don't make the bed with a ridge, it's always flat) and the grey pillows are in the middle as opposed to the back. I have a feeling someone has been sleeping here...and reading back issues of Vogue.

My mother has referred to me as Miss Marple. I am delighted.

Thursday 14 August 2008

scrolls

I'm having a lovely time wiki-ing unimportant things such as 'reading' and authors. I can hear Chris speaking the background to our friend Sid about WAR (the Russian-Georgian war, which was played out, this afternoon, on sand, in sexy bikinis, in a beach volleyball game, which, Chris and I found ourselves rather enjoying, and Georgia winning).

I just read that Allen Ginsberg gave the last reading of his life on my birthday, in 1996. I like being mildly schizophrenic and thinking it's mildly related in some way with me (or is that just vanity?), as in how I always do well when I write exams on my birthday, which happened each year during university. I used to write a manual journal dating back to when I was about six and stopped around this time last year because I started typing in a public forum and I guess I no longer had any burning crushes that couldn't be discussed or dark horses too intimate (all of those things, I kept to myself or place in parentheses). Anyway the point of the story is that about every 4 months I would fill in all the music that I'm currently listening to, or books I'm reading etc etc like a Nick Hornby philosophy of what you like is who you are. Also, it's fun to read back and see you were so cutting edge, and now you're clutching to The Hits- Hot Hits Party Bangers. And the moral of that story, is that Facebook has fully replaced all of this. And Last Fm. And these mediums have made it categorically better, with columns, reviews, statistics.

But I think one thing is definitely lacking that I used to go in depth about. The written word- my handwriting and how it's telling of my mood. My font says that I'm sort of Gen Next Cyborg following the religion of Apple but my handwriting, now having been out of work for over two months, has literally gone to shit. And filling in the crossword has become difficult for me to do because I'm shaky. My finger tips however, are as punchy as ever and when reading about reading, it makes you want to write about writing.

Monday 11 August 2008

I had too much to dream last night

What a thrilling week. Firstly, I managed to make contact with Brynn (one of the few people in the world who thinks I'm funny) and have a lovely chat. It's nice when two girls can recognise that they're both crap at correspondence and that doesn't mean you need to be angry with one another. It was magical. I even managed to tip the macbook out the balcony to show Brynn around this part of London. This lead Chris to shout at me. We do not have a great track record for white things and keeping them out of the canal. All's well that ends well.

Next, the Olympics started which means that I'm distracted from the rest of life. I'm listening to Chris to speak to Pete in the other room about Aston Villa and the Liverpool controversy and I couldn't think of anything duller to talk about.

On Friday, we went out of an excellent meal at one the Vietnamese restaurants down on Kingsland rd. then went for drinks in Shoreditch and talked about American Psycho which is really fun to do after half a bottle of wine and bowl of vermicelli. Then he told me about this slush manuscript that our friend told us about from his other job which makes me feel insecure about everything, but good that I would never come up with an idea like that (the slush manuscript's idea). After that, we made the undoubtedly bad life choice of going to Birdcage until 3.30am where Chris ran into weird 35 years playing Devil's Advocate about the Holocaust. He has repeatedly had bad experiences in that toilet whereas every time i use the lady's, it's some girl's birthday and she's having a wonderful time.

And last night I had the scariest dream of my life. I think it was some form of karmic retribution because before I fell asleep last night I told Chris that when we're older and his snoring is out of control, that I would want separate bedrooms. And he kept kicking me and I asked that if before separate bedrooms, we could get separate beds. I realise that makes me horrendously selfish, but this dream more than made up for it and I was relieved to wake up, check to see if Chris was alive (the dream was that scary, think Rosemary's Baby but way more religious and involving my own baby digging it's hands and legs into me). But I think what disturbs me the most about that nightmare was that my own mind conceived it. I am not religious at all, I don't really believe in binaries in the world and I haven't watched Rosemary's Baby in about 6 months. Masochistically twisted but happy to sleep next to a schnorer who can protect me.

Monday 4 August 2008

trivial pursuit

Here are a few things I've learned from these past few days. One. If you quit drinking wine for two weeks and have managed to deflate, you will ultimately reinflate after two glasses on Saturday night. Two. If you are inevitably drinking these two glasses of wine, don't mention fertilisation to your poor innocent friend who is enjoying her diet coke. Three. If you do mention babies, fertilising and that is incompassed try not to bang on about it after your boyfriend has returned from the toilet. Four. If you do continue to bang on, try not to drag him into the conversation as it makes him uncomfortable too. Five. If you do drag him in and get him to mention baby names he likes and dislikes, try not to change his mind on the names that you decided a few weeks ago when battling insomnia (apparently my disease this summer, I can't fall asleep before 2am now, and neither can Chris). Six. If all these pieces of the pie come together then abandon play, cut your loses and get a frozen cheesecake. Wait two hours for it to thaw then enjoy.

This (being that, up there) and this (me waiving my arms about) isn't really funny. I have always sought after a tangible existence, preferably not digital, and holier than abstract and it's nearly be achieved. Chris and I, in order to prove our courtship and "intent to marry" have to prove that we are a couple. We need to show photographs, postcards, letters, joint bank statements, joint insurance claims, our one bedroom lease with both of our signatures. Tangible proofs of love but we've also been quizzing ourselves at night, just in case they ask us questions that one should probably know about another person. Pet names, weird silly expressions that we have for things, birthdays, important people in our lives, university majors, childhood traumas and happy holidays. I once referred to my love for Chris as sustainable, this made him laugh.

Monday 28 July 2008

a funny thing happened on the way home from the party

I knew it was bound to happen eventually. We both can't live near the canal without "an accident" and it's been a solid ten months not including the countless walks we took before we moved in water-side. But the inevitable happened, this past Saturday at approximately 4.30am when, to my chagrin, we decided it was light enough to walk home down the canal from a party in Angel (where might I add I had the stinkiest chat and couldn't overcome the performance anxiety and thought to just discuss internet providers instead...apologies all round to those I bored) back to ours further east. Usually, the perverse fear of being mugged or stabbed comes over me, however it was really light outside and deemed it 'ok'. So it was a lovely walk and all, and really great to cool off from one of the hottest parties I've ever been to, when did it become so muggy in London? I made another unfortunate life choice of wearing Chris' cashmere/wool blend jumper which even though it is quite thin, I managed to broil myself in.

So down the canal we walked, and approaching our flat, there are two entrances. One at the front of the building which is street-facing, the other is out back, which you have to cross the lock for, which is side-street facing. So a decision was made to take the back entrance because we can just cross the lock, and be out back. But I notice that we can't get across the second part, which is just a water-way for when the lock is closed. However there is a blank of wood that lines perfectly from one side of this water-way to the other and assuming that it's solid Chris decides to go first. Now I am heavily accident-prone, to the point where I've broken my arm twice, the same way. I am not entirely happy about this decision but as he takes his first step on to this blank, it sinks, and Chris sinks in with it. And there he was, up to his chest in canal. Apparently, it was just a misleading piece of wood that looked like a walkway but was really just a piece of floating wooden rubbish. I of course rescued him immediately and found myself being rather maternal once we did get into our flat- through the front entrance. I ran him a shower, put the clothes in the wash and started drying off all electronics that were in the bag, of course the expensive camera had to be one of them.

So in the days after this incident, Chris tells me this other time when his family used to have a boat and would take it through locks, that he had fallen in once then as well. And also, what happened to being sensible, and first testing out the mystery plank before plunking all body weight on to it? One thing learned however, the canal really smells- and I feel sorry for our bathmat.

Wednesday 23 July 2008

yesterday's crossword

I'm going to channel all of my current frustrations, annoyances and general dispositions into the tears I shed repeatedly throughout Wall-E. Wow that movie really broke my heart. But on closer observances, Chris and I went to see it on a Sunday night, where it was a packed cinema, and notably only 4 children were in attendance. The rest, were born between the years of 1975-1985, who would have all stated E.T. as one of their top 5 favourite movies. The film garnered applause at the end with virtually all the women crying. I had to rest for a minute because I was overwhelmed. It was lovely. A good sense of purging emotion.

And another way. Eat them. I've just received the best east end pie and mash for lunch.

Friday 18 July 2008

I'm dreaming of a white wedding

Literally. I just had an anxiety dream about my wedding. Everything was ready but we kept having to postpone the date because we just couldn't get there in time. I wonder what that means?

I did however manage to make it and stay alive in Covent Garden (which really, I've only been to about 5 times in my life) for a party, then dinner in Chinatown with Suzy. She, after 6 pieces of sushi, proclaimed that she was full. Needless to say that when the ramen soup and dumplings then another order of sushi arrived, she found the courage to continue. Then we were manipulated into going into this bar in Soho by this poor guy who has to recruit and only gets paid by the amount of people who can lure in. It was a moment of weakness. We then had champagne and Glaswegian dance lessons which, to be perfectly honest, I couldn't understand a word the guy said. And then, some drunken tart knocked the glass of champagne out of my hand, didn't notice, didn't even apologise and continued dancing. Suzy was not impressed with this behaviour, the staff then ready with buckets, mops and dustpans swept up the debris immediately and proceeded to do so throughout the night. Really nothing is better than a wet mop beating against your feet perpetually throughout the evening.

So I wished a few awful things to happen to that tart girl, (nothing too vicious however) and Glasgow bought me a glass of rose to make it up to me, which tasted like poison and I proceeded to pour down the drain in the toilet (I felt that if I dropped it, with the mop people around, it would be too obvious).

And this weekend, I'm finally going to see Wall E!! And I think tonight we're going to some east end club...?? I haven't been briefed in full on the details but it could prove to be another fun night. I'm soaking up as much London fun as possible, just in case I can't get to my wedding on time.

Monday 7 July 2008

because I'm bored and Chris is playing PES and at least it's something new

What is your favorite song of all time?
Flo-rida: Low

What is your favorite color?
red and purple

Why are you taking this interview?
Stolen from Pez's facebook and I'm bored, not working and prefer not to watch my bf play PES.

who do you count on when feeling down
My mum and Chris

do you plan in advance
I try to, yes

Do you hold hands when you walk in public?
International rules, maybe. Depends on location and if I'm in heels.

How many hobbies do you have
None? I think at 24 the things you do daily that you enjoy aren't called hobbies any longer, they're more a way of life.

Close your eyes for a moment, who pops into your head?
Jeff Goldblum

Do you say "I love you" in the relationship?
Indeed.

Aliens have landed and selected you to visit their home planet. Do you go with them?
Depends on the type: Independence Day aliens; no. Close Encounters of the Third Kind aliens; yes

Describe your perfect Sunday morning?
Brunch, DVD in my pjs.

If you could be successful at any job in the world, what would that job be?
Playwright

If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?
Some regent chateau in Luxembourg

If you could be someone else for a day, who would it be?
Chris. For self-important reasons.

If you have friends coming for supper what would you cook?
We'd potluck, too many vegetarians to keep track of.

What makes you laugh?
Chris yelling at the Wii. Chris throughout the day really.

If you were an animal in the wild, what would you be?
Giraffe or hippo

If you won the lottery, how would you spend your millions?
This has been plotted many times; properties in London, Midlands, Toronto, NYC, Paris. Take our friends on a cruise, become eccentrics.

Do you believe that the cup is half empty or half full?
Dependent on context.

What do you do for fun?
Movies, music, Wii, pub quizzes, read

Are you an outdoor or an indoor person
Indoor.

If you had only six months to live, what would you do first?
Wallow in self-pity

Do you own any pets, and if so what do you have?
My mum has a dog. I miss my Monty.

Do you have any tattoos, and if so what and where?
No, nearly.

When do you plan on getting married?
Well either in September or in a few years.

What size shoe do you wear?
7 US 5 UK 38 ITL

Water or 100% Juice?
water

Would you rather be hot or cold?
cold.

Would you rather lose an arm or a leg?
a leg.

Favorite Place to Eat?
Les Trois Garcons in London

Opera, Musical, Concert, Play, Performance, or Other?
A decent play or a decent opera.

What is your favorite clothing brand?
This is more difficult to answer than the half empty/half full question

Most Memorable Past?
Red Square Fridays; 90s night with Tom; Meeting Chris for the first time; NYE 2007

Most embarrassing moment?
Saying 'blow job' in front on Chris' parents after we had been for a boozy dinner. I don't know how we started talking about this but I was fueled on red wine and was telling the story of a boy in my gr. 6 class who had put in the Sex Ed question box: 'what is a blow job?' when he clearly knew what one was. In the middle of telling this story, I realised that the words 'blow job' would be said and no sooner had the words escaped my lips, I wanted to take it all back. Chris reminded me of this story the other day. I still turned red.

If you had to pick one car, which would it be?
A vintage Jaguar, from the 60s.

Your favorite Disney Films?
Dumbo (but I'm not allowed to watch it anymore after my recent tearful outburst) and Alice in Wonderland. Finding Nemo and Toy Story are quite good as well.

Favorite element?
Hydrogen (H)- being the first element and all?

Firefox, Internet Explorer, Netscape, or other?
Safari

Juice and crackers or milk and cookies?
milk and cookies

Favorite fruit?
Strawberries.

Which is worse? A bad laugh or a bad cough?
Bad cough.

Are you a cat or a dog person?
Dog.

Would you rather be blind or deaf?
Not being able to hear music would be frustrating, but not be able to see stuff is I think, worse. I could always lose my sense of articulation.

Define yourself in 3 words...
a little honeybear

Do you eat cold cereal at night?
anytime really

What is your favorite TV show?
Curb your Enthusiasm

Kill the spider or let it out?
Get the boyfriend to take care of it

Do you shower every single day?
Yes, usually

Walking past a beggar, spare change or ignore?
This is genuinely tricky, but I'm always polite.

Where do you want to travel next?
Berlin or Buenos Aires

What is your favorite food?
Steak and asparagus

Do you read harry potter books?
No, but I like the movies.

What is your favorite place?
I very much love Paris and London however there are so many more place that I want to go, where I haven't been.

If you could have one super human power what would you choose?
Read minds and grant wishes (to myself and others)

Have you had a beer in the last week?
No, not surprisingly

Vitamin Water or Gatorade?
If pushed, Gatorade, but still to sweet

Favorite body part?
Feet and noses

Flip flops or sandles?
I prefer sandals spelt correctly

What do you do on fridays?
Depends on the Friday. Last I played poor drunken chess and met with friends and discussed conspiracy theories then played Wii until the wee hours of the morning. No irony there unfortunately.

Do you like bananas?
They are the absolute worst.

How tall are you?
5'6 ish?

very dull but quite happy

Days of yore.

I think this whole nostalgia thing has a bit to do with my trying to reach Brynn a few nights ago whilst she's in Taiwan and I'm here and realising that we I haven't heard her voice in two years. And realising then how much has changed in that time. And how two years is a bit of a geographic anomaly along with being a timeframe. But ultimately realising that it's tricky to call Taiwan, made even harder when someone leaves their mobile off and a Taiwanese operator speaks to you.

My personal life is nearly perfect, except for being in the throws of a emotionally violent catch 22. I've grown tired of the bureaucracy of the UK however I am continuing my fight for free work (not working for free). And over pints, glasses of wine and three very poorly played chess matches, Chris and I came to our ultimate decision on what we're going to do.

And lately we've playing the "would you break up with me if" game. On really funny, irreverent, non-negotiables Chris has narrowed his break-up clause to Stepford Wife, wide-eyed wake up calls and genuinely enjoying Flo-Rida (i.e. all time favourite). We're quite dark evidently.

My days are now spent mostly inside of my own head, and I'm reading more. And running everyday now. And I can't believe that Nadal beat Federer. And I can't wait for the Olympics. And to just feel that everything has settled back down again.

New fears far from nostalgia... Am I becoming trite?

Thursday 26 June 2008

pork wellington

Nothing makes me feel happier than this.

Photobucket

Wednesday 25 June 2008

chores

Do you have loud neighbours, that play excessively loud music and turn up the base? Who party until 4am then wake you up at 10am to their loud music again, probably as they're cleaning and/or just being selfish, obnoxious, disrespectful?

That's merely a backdrop to what we deal with in our flat block. There is a flat that plays music tediously loudly, which drives Chris and I on to our high horses, of which we comment that we're stand-up citizens with courtesy for the people around up.

Last night, being a Tuesday night, at about 9.30pm we hear some loud noises. I'm trying to focus to figure out what the song is and I think I hear Air. But then it becomes louder and it's Radiohead. Oh perfect, noisy flat (as we refer to) are having some kind of party on a Tuesday. Chris goes on saying that if they can afford to live in our flat block, they must have decent jobs and are clearly playing music this loudly, like being in school halls, as some sort of twenty-something rebellion, with the exact words as 'pathetic' used. I say that beside noisy flat is a flat with I believe two children, who are probably going to bed about now, how unfair to those children, their parents.

"Alright, I get it, you like OK Computer". I shout that out after about half an hour later, music still blasting. Chris and I make further judgmental comments how we would never do this, play music this loudly, with the base turned up, it waffles our flat nearly. But then I stop. And I think for just a second.

Oh right, Radiohead are playing Victoria Park about a mile away from us. UGH....we have transformed into old people, mean people who sit around saying nasty, judgmental things about people. But it's actually Radiohead. And yes, Radiohead obviously do like OK Computer.

Then I kept saying how I wish we had tickets to Wednesday night. I have become my own worst nightmare.

Sunday 22 June 2008

fahrenheit

I've made peace with unemployment; one part Aristotelian stoicism; two parts Summer Olympics and being able to watch all the coverage; three parts Wimbledon starting tomorrow. Also I won't have to spend £95 on a monthly travel. I do feel positive for September but I never knew the stress and ulcers that can be caused for being a citizen of the world. I didn't think of myself as the 'corporate ladder' girl or even a career seeking but as soon as it's quickly stripped away, it just became insanely Joni Mitchell.

And now I'm staring at my room sideways, alone, in pjs, and was scrolling through past pictures on Facebook of my old elementary school, being annoyingly nostalgic, cold hands which are causing frustrating typos, on tip toes trying to play vinyl, next trying to figure out Chris' demented turn-table that evidently can start automatically itself, listening to the Black Lips, have spoken with my mother already twice this weekend. Once during job hell, other during hell of my own creation. i.e. Friday afternoon, fire alarm goes off whilst I am playing Pez via Wii internet thingy on Maria Kart. Alarm has now been buzzing for about 7 minutes, Chris' mum calls and I speak with her whilst juggling Wii remote and race. Decide that I should maybe investigate this alarm, open my flat door and see half my flatblock running outside, panic, swear, throw on my shoes, start searching for my bloody keys, which are of course hidden under paper (bureaucratic nightmare), grab my phone, run on to our outdoor hallway balcony, I start shaking. Go to the door to run down the stairs, smoke then billows out, and I'm stuck. I see people on the upper deck, completely unphased, I call Chris, he's nearly home. There are 4 fire brigades, an ambulance and countless police cars blocking off the street. Chris arrives, tells me to go down the fire escape (I clearly lose all logic when it comes to a crisis...), then we chat with our neighbour, I see I left our kitchen window open (fire 101, elementary school fire drills: 1st tip- close the windows), panic. We grab a drink at our old man pub across the road, Broadway market crazy comes and sits at our table, when then accuses Chris of thinking she was trying to steal his bag because he moved seats to sit next to me, I calm her down, the fill her mobile phone with a paper voucher, drink a white wine, leave one sip, for Broadway market crazy to ask if she can have it, I oblige, she then spits it back into the glass saying it's the worst thing she's ever tasted (doubt to be true).

Then for the rest of the weekend, I've been milking sympathy and just attention-seeking, reminiscing to Chris 'how I died in a fire'. Supremely lucid thoughts are penetrating through now. I think this two month gap is where both of our dreams can come true; lots of editing.

Thursday 19 June 2008

permiable

I've just reached a pinnacle stage in my life where I think that I'm actually younger than my parents believe.

I was speaking with my dad on the phone on Sunday and we were discussing some of my friends having babies, and his assistant who is around 21 just having a baby as well and I said 'how would you feel if I was pregnant now?' which I thought was a moderately uneasy question which would cause a bit of panic but he responded 'you're 23, I know that you would be able to take care of baby and be a good mother'. I was shocked. My dad now thinks that I am old enough to have a child and in fact nearly condones it. I personally don't feel ready at all to have a baby even though my maternal instinct is in hyper-drive.

Next, I am going through some turmoil at work as my work visa has currently run out and we're seeking sponsorship however I've had to take a leave of absence and therefore will not be earning over the next few months, that is if this sponsorship can actually come through. Yesterday, quite traumatic however I came home and spoke with my mum who said to just get married. And I replied 'don't you think I'm too young to get married?' and her response true to my parental conform was 'you're 23 and in a loving relationship, you've lived with your boyfriend for a year and a half and intend to get married anyway, what difference does it make if you do it now at city hall then in a few years have a proper wedding ceremony?'

My ultimate question that I doubt I'll ever be able to answer is when did I grow up? Apparently now there really isn't anything that could shock my parents. If I came home and said I was pregnant it would be joyous and if I was married, it would be wonderful. It just seems a bit odd to me. Well I am out of work in the UK for at least 2 months so I"ll have plenty of time to think about it.

Monday 16 June 2008

ello mate

This has provided Chris and I with at least 7 minutes of laughter.

Saturday 31 May 2008

here are few

Of my current favourite things.

Eating alone on Saturday night, at the quaint french restaurant, drinking wine alone, and not being half as self-conscious as would be prescribed on such a serene evening (nearly romantic).

Controlling the stereo via remote. I can sit at the sofa with macbook, drink my vodka/coke and listen to whatever I want, however loud I want, when I want it. None of this standing up business and scrolling. Why have I never practiced this before?

Having irreverent texts with Suzy. Something involving a gallery, a Heman, a car and a drink on Upper st. Come again?

And lastly, what is borderline stemming this methodic madness, is this curiousness I have in a mostly dire situation which will end up in nothing at all. But I'm a freak and need to know!

Am I hateable?

Suzy text reads: Cool

Wednesday 14 May 2008

seeing underpants

wow. That was very Ezra Pound of me.

But just sitting around, packing for Paris and listening to Violet Femmes whilst boyfriend does the dishes and paces around the flat because "i'm not getting ready". I am however mentally planning outfits which, technically speaking, is far more productive than physically packing and subsequently unpacking because I'd feel those particular items/shoes would make the cut.

And I've now hopped on this unhealthy band wagon and have bought a silly amount of t shirts from Uniqlo and American Apparel. I've never been a t shirt girl really ever but I'm thoroughly addicted after having worn Chris' stripey number all day today.

And in Paris, I hope to buy some cinematic, nu wave clothes too. Or just some gingham. And some new flats too.

and i

Either my boyfriend is supremely relieved to have to gone to the toilet after a long tube ride home.....or I can hear our neighbours have sex. I'm going with the latter.

However speaking of (my boyfriend, not neighbours having sex...and I thought this building was so sound proof...) Chris and I are drinking stout and watching Withnail and I. At midnight. Wearing cool new t shirst and boosting sun burns.

And Chris just asked if I dropped knickers in the bathroom. Seriously as if.

But honestly, I would never.

Whose knickers?



Paris in 36 hours.

Tuesday 13 May 2008

hols

Wah, I felt a bit whiny that night...

But I just woke up from a dream where George Clooney came to my door in the rain, freezing cold. I let him in, got him a towel then he must have had Florence Nightingale syndrome because George and I started kissing, then he fell in love with me. But of course me being me, I didn't believe his ways because he's such a playboy. Then I woke up. So really I'll never know George did truly love me. Also part of the dream, and part of the obstacles of being with George, I had to go on this game show and compete against Paris Hilton and NIcole Richie. The two were being really annoying and weren't letting me have my turn when all I really wanted was to answer the questions and run to George. George. He's just so charming.

Chris who...??

Sunday 11 May 2008

sunny daze

I'm on holiday. My dad and Ellaine are here in London now as well and it's so hot outside. Enter stage left Chris' parents for the crucial meet and greet. I think it went well and I told Chris he absolutely has to marry me now because I don't think I can go through the trauma and embarrassment of sets of parents meeting again.

Half a bottle of wine, we're on the hot streets by Columbia Flower Market, slowly digesting Argentinian steaks and wandering aimlessly which feels like the general gist right now. I am brutally aware, far beyond conscious, of something that is driving me to tear up on public transport.

On a much better note, we went to see Persepolis tonight and thought it was fantastic.

And on a supremely happy note, I have next week off and I'm heading to Paris on Thursday morning for a long weekend. And yesterday I rescued a friend and think I sent her off on her holiday on a much happier note, one with piece of mind. Tomorrow I'm going to lie on London Fields and read all day.

Tuesday 29 April 2008

blag

It's a boring Champions league game on now with Man U. playing Barce blah blah and I'm drinking Riesling and listing cute footballers I could maybe kiss. The list isn't very extensive, disappointingly enough. One debatable player is Rooney who I think looks like Shrek, however Chris thinks he has nice eyes. I am bored. Which has lead me to wiki John Terry because I couldn't remember who he was married, which lead me to wiki wags, which lead me to wiki Jennifer Ellison, which lead to "essex girl" which lead to further boredom.

Saturday 26 April 2008

crisis

Chris just came out and is wearing a nearly identical outfit as me. Picnic is on hold now he's gone to change because we look like a couple of idiots. Or those families who on holiday, all wear the same coloured sweaters so it's easy to find everyone.

something about this place

It's the first real sunny, warm day here and I'm staring out my window at a band taking photos, probably for their myspace. It's a bit obscure because he's wearing a top hat, blazer but biking shorts and there's a girl in a pretty dress and it seems a bit hodge podge for me. Woah! Top hat guy just hopped on a unicycle and peddled away. Pretty incredible for a Saturday afternoon gaze.

Chris and I are about to head down to London Fields and the market to have a picnic and read books. And next question of self-analysis, am I a nervy, anxious person?

Lastly, I love this song! It makes my tummy feel funny.

Saturday 12 April 2008

playing doctor

Last night being supremely great has lead me to feel a cold brewing in the back of the my throat therefore missing a fun night out tonight with Jonas and Pippa. However last night I did ride in a rickshaw with Sophie down Oxford st for £3 each so it's a bit of a fair trade off. Today i've been relegated to watching tv in my pjs, lots of Friends and eventual wiki immersion.

I'm far less stressed this week in a literal sense, but still have this feeling that my stomach is in knots which is affecting me more ways than one. I don't stand alone though in this complex and it seems to be a recurring symptom throughout the office. I am on the other hand, looking slimmer with my thighs nearly back to their original size. So strange how I feel my body has deviated and now I've spotted these new lines under my eyes where mascara now seems to get caught. By mid day I need to wipe off because I look like I haven't slept in days.

Besides my outward vanity and transparent self indulgence, I've had some funny conversations with Chris lately, one of which should definitely be documented. I was talking to him about how I was obsessed with the name Jessica when I was younger and whenever I played house with my brother and sisters, I would always be called Jessica. Chris' response was, 'what is house?', my reply 'you don't know what playing house is?' he said, 'well I've heard of it'. That really tickled me.

Sunday 6 April 2008

mass romantic

I've suffered from severe stress, abnormal PMS and delirium this past week. There have been moments were I thought my stomach was going to give up on me and that this was it. But like everything, it just passes. I sometimes need to grasp harder onto future retro perspective.

But anyway, highlights of the weekend are:

new shoes
Duchamp exhibit at Tate Modern and members room drinks
wearing Chris socks home because my new shoes gave me blisters on my soles
dinner with Suzy at Mem & Laz
Mrs Doubtfire
Sunday night pizza whilst watching a show on "scary skinny celebrities"
10 hour sleeps
reading Updike
warm sunny weather on Friday which lead to sandals to snowy weather on Sunday, which lead to boots
Chris' wisecracks over dinner last night
Chris being supremely romantic

And he just ruined it all by having just passed gas...

Tuesday 25 March 2008

a wally. a waldo

Last week was such a shocker. Just hectic at work, manic in life, travelling to Birmingham, then on to Wales where I have probably never been so cold in my life! It's been so blustering across the UK and the waves were crashing high upon our arrival and without central heating (bless Canada for its heating aptitudes), I slept with 4 blankets and showered in socks. I stupidly however left our camera in Chris' glove box so I'll fetch that this weekend, when back in Brum for his parent's 30th wedding anniversary.

This is such a boring story but I've becoming rather interested in Where's Wally (a.k.a Where's Waldo...) as they've reissued these books and for one day only, they were £1. But now they're £2.99 and I think I'll still buy the set. I found this video last night that made me lose my shit. I know I'm a bit late joining the YouTube generation but if this guy was remotely attractive, I would be in love.

Monday 17 March 2008

Christopher at Home

I love coming home to my man cooking veggies. And just like Ol' Dirty Bastard before me, "oh baby I like it raw". He's making this dip/soup thingy with raw veggies to dip in. And when I opened the internet, I saw he had googled "turnip" to see if what he had bought, was indeed, a turnip. There's a wholesome amount of winter veg in my kitchen right now.

And to commemorate St. Patricks, we're drinking Guinness and heading down the Dove for another pint. This is my first full Guinness, or as Chris puts it "more than a gulp". A nice little treat for a mundane Monday.

Sunday 16 March 2008

rock hard

On Friday night, during drinks with work mates, I kept having burning, existential thoughts but they have vanished, in part with my dignity as being sloshed in front of people that you work with, does that.

Yesterday I watched Entourage all day after a grueling Friday night with early 90s Britpop- (I didn't realise how much I didn't know...) and I've watched every pervy film from Kids to Last Tango in Paris. Something about lying on the sofa all day perpetuates something. I don't know. I'm so distracted right now from Chris playing Super Mario Galaxy (which I've temporarily given up because it's only the hard levels left and I can't win) and now he's getting all uppity because he's losing.

Anyway, today was a bad day. I discovered that twizzlers and smartfood (i.e. life) don't exist in the UK. I would kill for a bag of cheddar popcorn right now.

And lastly, I'm going to Wales for a long easter weekend. We were tempted by Portugal but I would rather not risk rain. Even though it will be blistering weather in Wales, at least that's expected.

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Monday 10 March 2008

no, this is not the set of King Lear

Or Mary Poppins for that matter. Even though I weigh a bit more than I used to, I thought the wind and my umbrella were going to take me up, up, up and away. Which would have been a slightly better alternative than public transport on a soggy day. Alas I am still here, feet firmly planted. I know that certain umbrellas however didn't make it.

I did have a stellar weekend. Let's start with the couple I want to date: Jonas & Pippa (or as I refer to them, only in writing, Pinas). We did a pub/curry house tour of Broadway Market on Friday, which turned into "name that black/blue tune". I am still obsessing. I can't spoil the beans and say why we were doing so, even if it's really obvious, but I hope it comes to fruition. This is only because I wasted a supreme amount of brain power. And on Friday, someone called me Freddie Krugger. Red and black stripes go a long way in East London...best name of an outfit yet.

Then come Saturday and sitting around doing nothing but watching Entourage on dvd, we pulled ourselves together for a party at Stevie's, which always vortexes into mayhem but remained salaciously calm until 4am when Chris was too drunk to speak and needed me to hail a cab. There was absinthe. It was magical. Sunday was KFC dreams, Domino pizza delivery.

And this coming weekend's raucous line up is already taking shape. A bit of 90s britpop dance night, then Saturday. I don't know what's happening on Saturday but I bet something fun. Even if it's making fajitas and staying in, I'm so in love with Broadway Market right now. Oh and heard about a great new night in Shoreditch. Do I sound like on of those...

If it's any consolation I'm sitting in oversized lounge pants and a green ms kitty t shirt Tet bought Chris from China as a joke. I'm not really one of those...

And even if I am, I'll probably blow away tomorrow and never be heard from again.

Thursday 6 March 2008

mind the crap please

I get angry with inanimate objects. I get annoyed with public transport. London public transport for instance. It's rammed with 7 million people. I get demotivated and scornful when there's a combination of the two.

Last night Chris and I did the usual, Mexican/Orange wednesday (i.e. two for one movie tickets) and we saw Be Kind Rewind- which we both loved- which rarely happens as we have, not severely, but varying tastes in film. So we're on the way back on the bus that takes us literally door to door (it stops right outside our flat) and there's this man on the bus, who is a) Irish b) was quite drunk. This Spanish woman was shouting on her phone, and apparently upset this Irish man who was muttering under his breath quite loudly "shut the fuck up". I start to get the giggles. So this Irish man stands up and the bus is just about to stop and he literally flies from one end of the bus to another, hitting a pole and falling on the small of his back. My immediate reaction was he's just broken his neck. He's dead. The angry Irishman is dead. He was lying there for about ten seconds, Chris had already sprung into action combining chivalry, "mate" and a slight cockney accent, to see if it was ok. Eventually he got up, with the help of Chris and these two girls, and he kept saying he was just sitting in his chair and all of sudden twisted around. Chris' reaction, "oh the luck of the Irish". I honestly had thought I had just witnessed death.

Then today, on the way home from work, Central line rammed at Tottenham Court rd., I get on the first train, to this bloody pushy, abrasive man, wearing a knapsack (pet hate!! Take your bag off and hold it in your hand. Same goes for shoulder bags) is rambling to himself and I quote "only in this country would you have metro system that berates passengers like soldiers" because of the polite, non-aggressive, now unemployed, Underground voice-over lady warning those that the doors will close. And his nonsense comment maybe would mean a bit more coming from someone who doesn't throw their London Paper on the floor (pet hate- litter). And then at Liverpool st. he was so adamant to be the first out of the train he completely shoved me out of the way. The elbow shove. Oooohhh. I'm an edgier person because of it.

But I'm not going to be self-righteous because I'm such a masochist for living here.

Tuesday 4 March 2008

boyland

Does not equate hell. However I just wrote half of this thing and it deleted and closed. Can't way I'm too happy about that. Or feeling motivated to rewrite everything from before. Top line:

The boys are watching football, talking about football, drinking beer etc etc blah blah blah and I want to finish my laundry and do my nails.

I've officially booked my holiday in May when my dad and future stepmum come over. Then we're all going to Paris, including Chris which I'm so thrilled about. I've been to Paris once before when I was 16 but so excited to go back, especially with my lover.

The boys are talking too much football right now for me to be remotely cerebral. I'm going to online shop for Luella t shirts and floral dresses. And I want a very specific pair of wedges with brown leather, but I think these patent black Pied a Terre's will have to do. I am egging Spring on!

Saturday 23 February 2008

work drinks and drinks and drinks

Ugh. I've been on a 4 day bender with friends from work and whilst it's great and cool, I have red wine lips permanently. Yesterday, there was about 20 of us, who sat in the pub for nearly 7 hours. Chris and I took a break and had a spicy Nando's (i.e. perfection). And miraculously I don't feel bad at all today but we're going out tonight with Pippa and Jonas in Shoreditch so I need to a) man up b) dress up and c) buy soap.

Chris is watching 'Soccer Saturday' and insisting we play the drinking game where if someone shouts off camera, you take a shot.

I'm a bit bored because daytime Saturday television in Britain is absolute rubbish. Beaches is on later today though so I may watch that, or play Super Mario Galaxy but it's causing the rage so I've had to put it away for a while.

What else, what else? Too bored to think.

Tuesday 19 February 2008

well, well

It's freezing. I've been cold all day and have succumbed to my boyfriend's Oxford hoodie achieving both a rude and educated look (clearly not, I just look frumpy).

Last night I had this awful dream, and when walking to work thinking about it, I decided that I had matured past a situation. I like those mornings.

I'm addicted to Spitafields market right now. Well i can't go until Sunday, but I'm addicted through the internet. Mixing furniture and strange clothing is really alright by me.

And in other amazing news, this gourmet hot dog place opened up right next to the salad bar I go to everyday. I'm pretty psyched about that. Sometimes I get these irreplaceable cravings for Toronto Bluejays hotdogs, so I'm revved for leaving my health kick on a limb for processed meat and bun (a.k.a the most important part of the).

Ultimately, and in other maturing news, I'm over my fear of scary-ish movies. Ones that aren't scary at all really but frightened me when I was younger. Chris and I watched Village of the Damned last night, and I was amazed at how much I remembered, probably because I had to convince myself when I was younger that it wasn't real. Anyway, I'm completely in love with bowtie girls style. I would love white hair/gold-red eyes/grey monochrome/especially bowtie. I'll bet she didn't die in the barn fire but moved to Hoxton and opened a boutique.

Now as an adult I create fictitious fashion stories about scary little girls in order for me to fall asleep at night.
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Sunday 10 February 2008

Scrubs

I love Sunday night pizza.

The weather has been gorgeous all weekend which is in direct proportion with my mood. I love when it actually doesn't rain in London, not that it does that frequently, but it's most just grey, dull and damp. I'm so excited for Broadway Market in the summer too- we're having a bit of a taste for it now. I just love cheese that much! (and am evidently full of love too).

Last night was tame fun, which is always best. We went to a fancy dress birthday party- with everyone dressing up as a tube station. I went as Canada Water, with the intention of drinking out of an evian bottle however that never came to fruition and I had to explain to everyone the circumstance. Apparently I was lame.

I'm sprawled out now, watching Antiques Roadshow, full of meat, and about to clean this filthy flat. We have a vacuum now which is the new bane of my existence. Chris is speaking to me about spices and little fruit flies but I'm obviously not listening. He's muttering to himself, proud of his discovery. The floor does need a mop too. Ok, time to move now. So full of pizza.

Wednesday 6 February 2008

passing by

We've just returned from Birmingham after attending Chris' nana's funeral. She died quite suddenly two weeks ago which was really sad but there was a lovely ceremony today which is only the third funeral I've been to (that I can remember). I think that wakes have such a strange atmosphere to them, like worse than a comedy club. At my grandmother's funeral, I remember being in the limo with my family and from the synagogue to the cemetery, we told jokes the entire time. And then arriving and watching the casket being lowered into the ground, I was balling and couldn't remember anything being funny. And being in Britain, where stiff upper lip is an unwritten rule, it makes for an even stranger environment. Regardless, death is palpable and maybe that's why I'm not that bothered by it- or at least think about it. Besides, conversations about death usually leads to much funnier topics. Take for instance hot dogs (in my mum's case many years ago, I really miss my mum right now too might I add).

And on the train home, I froze my little tootsies off. It was so cold, they're still cold even hours later.

One big decision I've made on my life is to start dressing better. With weight gain comes laziness because you feel that nothing looks good and I've been dressing rather generically, but it's time for some style resurrection, it being lent at all. I'm going to do a major purge in my closet and from now, seriously only going to be clothes I for definite want, not random things like I've been because I feel like I need bits and bobs. And I am on the decline with weight...but still...it's so annoying getting older.

All these parlay into one thing: London Fashion Week next week. Already going to a few shows and trying to squeeze a couple more in through work. I'm really trying to squander as many perks that work offers as possible- not in an illicit way but in a practical way. It's time to take full advantage of everything that's available. Massive consumer media whoring potential. (that said in the nicest, sincerest, evangelical way possible).

Sunday 27 January 2008

brunch

Lately, when I'm sitting legs up, watching television, I come across these exercise equipment QVC items available and I completely buy into it and want it If I had any money right now, I would definitely buy this aero trampoline cardio board thing. I have been mildly good since new years, exercising and eating less, but on Thursday, I went out with a few girls from work and one bottle of wine leads to five, which leads to grotty bar, which leads to chav magician performing card tricks, and random cockney doing breakdancing headstands in the middle of the floor, leads to me not remember either which ultimately leads to hamburger union.

Oh, now a smoothie machine is available to purchase. I think I'm going to the French restaurant across the road for brunch by myself. Chris went back to Birmingham this weekend so I've been here, cleaning, cooking- I made this amazing spinach, mushroom and cheese gnocchi last night. And as much as I enjoy being alone, I'm definitely feeling pangs of loneliness. Kenny vs. Spenny which finally arrived from Canada just isn't funny when you're by yourself.

And because I've been so bored all weekend, I've watched quite a bit of T4.

Sunday 20 January 2008

a wee fight

As children, you fight over video games, and being the person in control.

And evidently you do as adults. Being in control. Oh but being the person who bought the Wii in the first place. An only child takes on 1 of 4 with his "I payed for the Wii (therefore I am more entitled)." Super Mario Galaxy Divorce.

Sometimes I feel like such an adult, living with my boyfriend, sometimes him carrying me to bed when I'm sleep on the sofa. Then sometimes we fight over who gets to be player 1. Seriously. We had a serious argument today that lead to more than just Wii (as it does, and thankfully did, if we fought solely over Wii, we would have to get rid of it), leading to money, and possessions, merging the two together, a couples communist battle. It's something I have never experienced before. And it's intense for a Saturday when you've lost your voice (unWii related, I had the flu earlier this week and thus sore throat-lost voice).

Tomorrow is supposed to be 15c so I think I'll be going outside. But I bet it will rain.

Thursday 10 January 2008

Oui Oui

I just came home from such a great day at work to find out Chris not only found a Wii, but bought a Wii.

I'm going to play Wii now and might never blog again. Or leave my flat again.

Tuesday 8 January 2008

oui?

Seriously, all I want to do is play Wii, but there apparently aren't any left in the UK. I am gravely disappointed. I want to play tennis, and Mario Olympics (obviously) and Super Mario Galaxy, and Wario Ware and all the silly games. Chris wants Splinter Cell but I'm ignoring that request.

Really though, where do you find one? Lucky souls who got one for Christmas. Chris did some Wiisearch today much to no avail. He wanted to surprise me and say that he had ordered one today. Again much to no avail. I'm off to pout.

Saturday 5 January 2008

the year

So it's started. I'm back at work and ready for a shocker for the next few months, really up until May. I have three massive projects starting essentially this Monday and the last one isn't done until end of April. Much more stress to follow.

But for now, as it's Saturday and sunny and mild outside, I'm waiting for Chris to wake up, to head down to the market. And buy cheese. As I'm now going through withdrawl. Moreover, my eating healthy plan, minus cheese, is going quite well thus far, three days in. I'll probably cave and eat a cheeseburger at the market. Or a boar burger at the Dove. Ok I really need to wake Chris up because I'm now starving.

And lastly, I think this year will be great in bringing old friends back together. Some persuasions have already taken place even, which, by no fault of my own, were seemingly successful. Last night I had a dream where about 10 of my friends were all about 7 months pregnant and roaming around, and making me feel highly maternal but far inferior. And then Chris proposed to me with this massive ring that I wore right away but then a bunch of us, pregnant ladies excluded, we went diving in this army training area where arrows kept being shot at us. I wore the ring on the dive but we finally got to this bunker underwater, me, Chris and the swimming crew, and when inside we started playing table tennis.

But ultimately, the very best part of 2008 will be the Olympics. I'm now addicted, thanks in part to Pez, to watching old Olympics clips on YouTube, especially gymanstics! But ultimately getting into arguments with Chris over Canadian vs. British figure skaters. I can't wait until the summer!


Wednesday 2 January 2008

2008

And I'm now too late to do a 2007 in review. But I think it's going to be the year of the adult. I went to a dinner party with 14 other friends for new year's and to everyone's surprise, it was very civilised. No one got out of hand, became obnoxiously drunk or mildly offensive. A nice change from the skull fracturing days of yore. And to top it off, I wasn't suicidally hungover, in fact, I didn't feel bad at all yesterday (it didn't really stop me from having a big mac though).

And with the new year, comes new eating/drinking routine. I've gained about 20 pounds since moving to England a year and a half ago. That needs to be lost because some jeans I can't fit over my thighs. I'm not 18 anymore. It's so sad to see the effects of ageing. But I am now on my best behaviour for the rest of January, February and March. Come April let's see what I have to say.

And lastly, 1998 was a very good year for me. I started highschool in that year. That was 10 years ago. I guess I don't owe my thighs anything, but I still hate these physiological changes.