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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!