Let the madness begin

Well its been 24 hours, and I'm not missing The Precious too much.

One thesis finished, bound, submitted.

I haven't had time yet to really process it, what with other stuff and things going on. Like, I had my first tutorial today. They didn't run screaming from the room in horror, so I guess thats a good start.

I have 4 days left at Helga's House of Pain, after which I shall get very very very very drunk, throw up, and then sleep for two days. Anyone who will be in Christchurch on Friday is most welcome to join me. Or you could just get drunk wherever you are.

So as of Friday I will have no thesis, no job, no stress. No money either, but I'm fairly used to that.

Have to go to work now, so that I only have 3 days left.

Its all a bit odd. I would love to take Ben's advice and do nothing for a very long time, but I have some um.... what are they called again? Thats right, responsibilities, so I may steal James' advice to Dave and embark on a thesis detox programme.
Any ideas?

I would be doing the happy dance if I had anything left in me.

Right.
Done.
All thats left to do tomorrow is print out a graph in colour, and then take that bitch to the bindery.

Oh.
I feel a bit hollow now.

12.18am.

And happy.

I'm not really sure.

Maybe its time for a wee nooze.
Haven't slept properly for a few weeks now.
I'll probably lie awake all night worrying about the Precious.
And also worrying that I've left someone out of the acknowledgements.
How about an apology in advance if I have?

Am going home to nyes now.

Nighty night.

What am I going to do with myself now?.....

*sings* I just don't know what to do with myself, don't know just what to do with myself. I'm so used to doing everything with you, planning everything for two, and now that we're through....

Smack my Bitch Up

OK. Its 10.20 pm I have just returned to my desk after a wee stint at work (five shifts to go, bizzo). I am armed with a big bowl of gnocchi, a bottle of the evil black cola, a bottle of riesling (can you say "booze hag"?) and some serious determination.
I will have the bitch finished by bed time tonight. I don't care if bed time tonight is 10 am tomorrow, my thesis will be all corrected, acknowledged, appendiced, bibliographied, title-paged, table-of-contentsed, graphed and printed.
This wine is shit.
I cannot promise further blogs tonight, but we'll see how circumstances transpire.

*inhale, grit teeth, and go*

Eighteen and a half hours to go.

Oh yeah.

Bring it.

We gon' fight, we gon' charge, we gon' stomp, we gon' march through the swamp, we gon' mosh through the marsh, take us right to the doors....


Theres this guy at work, and hes a bit of a dick. Hes from a country and religion thats not reknowned for its liberal attitudes towards women, and has a few problems with manners. He calls women "darling", and I've told him MANY times that I don't like it, I find it offensive, and could he please not do that to me.
Last night he was using the coffee machine, and I needed to use it.
Me: Hey when you've finished with the machine can you give me a yell cos I need to use it. Cheers.
Him: Sure.
....a little time passes....I return to the machine, and hes not using it.
Me: Hey are you finished? Can I use the coffee machine?
Him: Darling you just go and use it.
Me: Please don't call me darling, I've asked you loads of times, I find it offensive
Him: (insert psychotic break here) you must be fucking stupid whats wrong with you just use the fucking machine you stupid woman why do you have to fucking ask me just fucking use it
Me: (Ummmm what?...) Well I don't know, I was trying to be courteous. I understand its a bit of a foreign concept for you, but I didn't want to barge in front of you and use it when you weren't finished. Its called being considerate.
Him: you are a fucking stupid woman why the fuck do you have to be such a fucking bitch all the time what the fuck is wrong with you just use the fucking machine just fucking leave me alone you fucking bitch
Me: (this could go either way. As in either I punch him in the face, or really fuck him off by making him the butt of a funny story. I chose b)* (also thinking; if you think thats me being a bitch, you haven't seen anything you sorry little man)

So I tell the chefs, the owner, the manager and almost all the other staff, and we all have a good giggle at his expense.

Only six shifts left until I am free from the madness.

*admittedly I did go up to him later and very quietly tell him that if he ever spoke to me or any other staff member like that again I would make an official complaint and not only plead psychological abuse but sexual harrassment because every day he crosses the line at least ten times. I am tempted to do so anyway. You do not fuck with The Claire.

So the moral of the story is a) never get involved in a land war in Asia and b) if you think I'm crazy, just remember that theres people out there that make me look like (insert name of very sane person here. I don't know any).

This is a low...

I tried to write a blog earlier, cos a couple of my friends were bugging me about not having anything to read. So I told them they were very sad creatures who needed to get lives.

But I couldn't do it. It was just rubbish.

Theres all these things going on, and I can't bring myself to blog them, cos it doesn't seem right. Maybe once its all over, or enough time has passed, or whatever, but not now. Too much.
Suffice to say that in the next few days I have to finish and submit my thesis, plan, write and conduct my first tutorial and finish an eleven year career in hospitality, none of which is important right now, cos everythings pretty fucked up.

See, there I go, having a rather obscure whinge about stuff. Most people would just shut the fuck up about it, but I have so many things in my head that if I kept them all in I would go mad. Ok, madder. More mad? Anyway.

Dave, in all his smashingness, has asked for people to send good karma my way. Thank you possum, but its not me that needs it. You know where to send it. OK, some of you don't. Those who do, please send it. Or you could send it to me and I'll pass it on.

Right then.

Thank you.

Wagner: Not as bad as it sounds*

Last night at work:

Corey: If you need me to help you just give me a yell.
Claire: You know Corey, you're not nearly as much of a bastard as you make out you are.
Corey: Thanks Claire. And you're much prettier than you look.....no wait...that came out wrong.......
Claire: *on floor in fits of laughter*


* Mr Clements.**
** A prize*** for telling us Mr Clements' more famous nom de plume
***The word "prize" is used here in its loosest possible definition. As in, not really a prize. More like a feeling of being clever****. Or smug.
****Although its not really that hard*****
*****Or perhaps now I'm being smug******
******But I can cos its my blog*******
*******So bollocks to that.

Bye now.

Some people want it all...

I have awesome friends.
I really do. They are just fantastic. Due to recent stuff and things I have been a little upset at work, and the other day I turned up and Nike and Tarsh had bought me a huge bunch of beautiful happy yellow and pink flowers and a card that said "Kia Kaha" and a packet of little heart-shaped belgian biscuits. It was truly thoughtful and thoroughly touching and just too sweet for words. So yay for Nike and Tarsh.

I made a bit of a dick of myself last night, just for a change.
There was this GORGEOUS guy in the restaurant, and he came into the bar for a drink. I asked what his table was booked under, so I could put the drink on his account, and he said "Jane", presumably his girlfriend's name. So I said, "thats obviously not you then" and he said all jokingly "how do you know, don't be discriminating" (in a lovely English accent) so I gave him his drink and said "there you go Jane", and then got one for his girlfriend (who was really nice so I couldn't bring myself to hate her, even though I was in love with her boyfriend). Anyway, they went to their table and were sitting so that he was facing out so we could all see how scrummy he was, and his girlfriend had her back to us all. So, needless to say all the female staff were staring at him and nearly crashing into things, distracted as we were by his complete deliciousness. Then, halfway through the meal, they swapped seats. I reackon it was because he got all freaked out by us staring at him, so I went over and said "Hi Jane, everything all right here?" He said yes, and all went well. Then later, he got up to go to the bathroom, and I went over to clear the table. I said to his girlfriend (the real Jane, I presume) that I'd noticed that they'd swapped seats. She said that it was because she was getting the draught where she was and he gallantly offered to swap seats with her so she wouldn't be cold. So, of course, I opened my big mouth and said "Ok, I thought it might have been cos all the staff were staring at your boyfriend cos we all think hes utterly gorgeous".
It didn't seem to bother her much. I guess shes used to it. She would have to be, having a bloke like that.

In other news, my six-year old niece is coming aboard the Bounty for a night. I informed the flatties, and Tim's response was "What games does it play?"

"It?"

This may be a learning experience for them both.

Fucking patronising bastards

I am currently on hold with Microsoft. Apparently my call is important to them, and so I must keep waiting on hold. I've got Mos Def up loud in an attempt to drown out the tinny sounds of "Mrs Robinson" assaulting my delicate eardrums. This annoying recorded cow keeps bloody apologising for the delay in my call being answered. I wouldn't mind waiting so much if she didn't keep apologising.
I'm having major issues with Excel. I want the cell to say 49. Not 49%, $49, 49 mice, nothing like that, a simple 49 would please me no end. But no. Fucking Excel keeps changing it to 4900%. Which is not even a real thing. How can 4900% of children under 12 be immunized against measles?
I've tried fixing the AutoCorrect options, and about a thousand other things.....call is being answered......OK.
The fucking thing has decided of its own accord to change the category number of the cell from general to percentage. And to add another couple of zeroes. I reckon my computer is possessed. But now I know how to fix it. Ha.
Claire 1, computer nil.

Well that was a rather pointless blog wasn't it.

Heres a point.
Jamilla is awesome, and wins Person Of The Week.

On the way life is

Please forgive me if things get a little weird in the next couple of weeks. I can't sit here and publish things that aren't mine to publish, suffice to say that life is a big steaming pile of crap that likes to really fuck things up as much as possible and the truly innocent are the ones that suffer.
I thought about leaving blogging alone for a while, but theres a chance I need to get things out, cos theres already so much that goes on inside my head that if I don't get it out I'll lose it. So, what I'm saying is....actually I really don't know what I'm saying.

Fuck.

One down, six to go...

I got my first P.F.O. letter today. It was in email form, and it was from these bastards. Thats FINE I didn't want to go to your STUPID school anyway this from the people that elected an AUSTRIAN TREE to govern the world's FIFTH LARGEST ECONOMY (if it were to secede). Wankers. Double wankers. Both hands.

In other news today, internet radio is smashing.
One can have a constant soundtrack of jungle, drum and bass, trance or house, streaming live on a gazillion different stations.
Kiwi are streaming live also, and ever since my Mum came into my office and stole her radio back (how rude) that is featuring significantly. There seems to be a wee problem with whatever technology feeds it though, because sometimes it sounds like someones knocked the dial and its a bit scratchy, and you really want to tune it in properly, but can't.
I really like the idea of a 100% New Zealand music station, and big ups to them, but its funny, cos its almost a genre-less station. All the other stations encompass a few related genres, and are aiming for a specific audience, but Kiwi includes rock and hip-hop and pop and electronica and all sorts of stuff, and unfortunately in our fair land, as in all others, there exists crappy pop music that makes one want to chew ones foot off. So theres all different types of music and the only common factor is that its all from Aotearoa. But its truly awesome to turn the radio on in the morning and hear "Down in Splendor" and "Heavenly Pop Hit" and loads of Salmonella Dub and Trinity Roots and Concorde Dawn, and this morning, on my way into work, I was singing along very loudly and out of tune to "Pink Frost". It was a beautiful thing.

Its raining.
Ah, summer in NZ. Its another beautiful thing.

This light is here, to keep you warm...

I'm in the strangest of moods at the moment. No, maybe mood is the wrong word. Everything has taken on somewhat of a surreal character, like someones shifted the furniture and put it all back slightly differently, and changed the lightbulbs so they're a little brighter but not quite enough to make one exclaim "gosh, who changed the lightbulbs, its very bright in here" but just enough for everything to take on a slightly different quality.
I was talking to a friend yesterday who is in a similar position to me at the moment, in that things are really going to change soon, but we're not really in any position to appreciate it. I feel like there are opportunities everywhere at the moment, and things are really starting to roll, but I'm completely up to my eyeballs in work and can't take the time to process it all.
In the next two months I start tutoring first years, present my first conference paper in Brisbane, find out whether I will be going to the South of France to present another paper, submit my thesis, get letters from all the universities I applied to saying either fuck off or please come and study here and heres a big barrel of money for you, and end my 11 year career in hospitality (3 weeks to go). Thats quite a lot of stuff, especially for someone for whom daily life is usually a bit of a challenge anyway.
Don't go thinking I'm not happy about any of this, cos its all so fucking awesome I can barely believe it, I'm just a little intimidated by the magnitude of imminent events. I've worked really hard to get here though, and I haven't stomped on anyone along the way (except those that deserved a good stomping, and a couple of bugses) and its really cool to see things hopefully fingers crossed please turning up.
Sometimes one has those moments where everything is just so good that it seems like its all going to come crashing down in a big twisted torn bloodied brittle vicious avalanche because experience suggests just that. One is having one of those moments now.
Who knows.
Anyway, hopefully next time there'll be a bit less introspection.

In random news, I have Monty Python's song "Never Be Rude To An Arab" running through my head, and have done so since this morning.

*wanders off, humming*

Hmmmm....

Claire: Hello, thesis supervisor fellow and generally nice chap
TS: Hello Claire. Listen, how badly do you want to get into Penn State or NYU?
Claire: Um, quite a lot. Like a bad bad donkey. Why?
TS: Cos my mentor is Very Important at Penn State and I also Know Some People in The Right Places at NYU. I'll make some calls.
Claire: Um... cool. Cheers. *wanders off, not quite sure what just happened*

Light up, light up, as if you have a choice

My blog had a birthday the other day and I didn't even notice.
Surprising really, given the fuss I make about my own birthday (103 sleeps).
Anyway last Friday was my one year anniversary as a blogger, and so to celebrate, I feel I should post something momentous and meaningful.
But I won't.
Instead I'm going to tell you about my foot.
Last night I was sitting on the floor, with my legs folded up under me, so basically I was sitting on my feet. All of a sudden there was a pinging sensation (ouch) and a significant amount of pain went through the top of my foot, in that no-mans land between foot and ankle. So I said a bad word, and rubbed my foot, and the pain went away.
For a while.
I was woken FOUR, yes, count em, 1, 2, 3, FOUR times in the night by a shooting pain in my foot, and then this morning I was hobbling around the house, and then it was fine, and then it was sore again, and now its fine. Although getting a bit sore now.

But this is the cool thing about blogs, one gets to waffle on about all sorts of shit thats in one's head that needs to get out of one's head cos theres no room for anything else in there its all a bit crowded.
And occasionally someone else will even read it. And even comment.
I think its good for one's psychological welfare. Especially my own, which should really be renamed "psychological doing-ok-for-the-time-being-but-my-goodness-its-a-delicate-balance-isn't-it-and-we've-had-some-interesting-times-haven't-we-thank-heavens-for-the-nice-men-in-the-white-coats-the-pink-pills-are-my-favourite-don't-mislead-people-by-implying-well-in-welfare".
But thats a bit of a mouthful.

But if you think I'm crazy, check out Zach Braff's New Year's Resolutions.

Forgo all exercise (including walking),
Learn to smoke (something thin like Capri's),
Take my loved one's for granted,
Stop washing my hands after twosies,
Laugh at babies who are late walkers,
Pull leaves off trees that appear to be flourishing,
Name the yet to be named voices in my head (something tough like Carl or Kyle)
Be less kind to bunnies,
Floss everything but my teeth,
Travel (but only around my yard and with a light carry-on)
Stop and smell the Rosens. (They're a wonderful family and absolutely compulsive about showering.)

One is compelled to add a couple of one's own.

-Stop going to the 'Westerns' section of the video store to fart, and just let rip in the 'New Releases'.
-Resort more often to the 'one-finger' school of driving etiquette.
-Aim for the bunnies when driving in the country.
-Say the first thing that pops into my head, especially when it is along the lines of "shut up cunt face you don't know shit go back to wasting precious oxygen you are living proof God has a sense of humour, knob-rash".
-Punch people who begin sentences with "I'm not really one to comment, but...."
-Break fingers of men who grab my bottom/boobs etc. No, its actually not funny. Now die, pus features.
-Call more people "pus features".

OK, now its just getting silly.

Inspired by Anna, I am currently compiling a list of "things I can do".
Watch this space.
No, please do.
It will be good, and not at all filthy.
OK, it might be a little filthy. Just the right amount of filth.

Ouch, my foot....

It took a life spent with no cell mate.....

Chicky chicky BOW!!!!! (this is me channelling Charlie. I miss Charlie.)

I'm going to Brisbane. Its official, as soon as the department puts its approval of paying for me to go on paper. I'm presenting a paper here, which will be a first for me.
Oh dear.
I am a terrible public speaker. I talk too fast, and have a tendancy to get off topic, and get easily flustered. Also, theres no student forum at this conference, so I'll be with all the professors and practioners which will be kind of intimidating.
I think I'll have to wear my short black skirt and nice black heels so they won't notice that I'm talking shit.
Must remember not to swear.
Perhaps if I get all Powerpoint-ed up with lots of pretty backdrops and photos and shit.
OK, a little too early to be stressed. Suppose I'd better write the paper first. They've got an abstract so at least they know what I'm supposed to talk about.
Next topic, after scamming a way into here, I'm working on a plan so cunning and all that (well really not that cunning, but I do have an angle...) to get myself a place here.
I really think that a conference about the Pacific needs some actual Pacific people there, so with NZ being the most southern of South Pacific nations, I am more than happy to represent my country. The fact that its in the South of France does not influence my willingness to go, not one bit. No siree. Not at all.
Hang on, isn't that where he lives?............

If you could fix me up, we'll go a long way

Well, I did it.

To: My Bosses
(insert name of popular Christchurch restaurant here)
Dear Boss 1 and Boss 2
Please accept this as my letter of resignation, effective as of March 4th. I am giving you five weeks notice in consideration of Boss 2 going into hospital and getting all the titanium rods removed from her leg where she completely fucked it by breaking it in 7 places, and of the respect and appreciation I have received from this establishment over the last three years. I thank you both for the opportunities I have received and hope to encounter the same level of professionalism and kindness in future employment.
Big Smoochies
Claire

Ok so the original didn't actually say "fucked", but the rest of it is right. Except for the smoochies.
And now I have four and a half weeks until I am FREE!!!!!! MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!!!!!!
I'm actually a little apprehensive. I've been working every day and every night for as long as I can remember, and I'm really not sure what people do when they're not at work. I asked my flatmate, and she said people have hobbies, and actually see their friends, which would be nice. And they read, and go for walks, and watch movies, and cook.
Which all sounds jolly nice.

In other news; He Who Must Not Be Named in a Public Forum, hereafter known as My Friend (out of consideration for finger fatigue) has left.
He has upped and gone and moved out of town for his new job.
Now I know that most people who know him think hes a complete bastard, but I am really going to miss My Friend. Sure, he can come across as rude, and yes hes arrogant, and can be a little prickly, but hes also incredibly sweet (well, to me anyway) and fiercely loyal and generous and honest and funny and he doesn't suffer fools or hypocrites and he has no hidden agenda. Which are qualities to be respected. He is also the ONLY man I have met in positively AGES who I am comfortable with and who doesn't seem to mind that I'm a bit mad.
Oh well.
I don't want this blog to turn into a navel-gazing exposition on failings of the modern man, or "the reasons Claire is single" cos quite frankly thats a) really boring and b) there are many other things I could be doing with my time c) modern men are a lot better than popular culture/advertising would have us believe and d) its really not a priority, despite the content of recent blogs. I just tend to write about whats in my mind, and recently, its been about men, most likely because circumstances have conspired to put them at the forefront of my mind. Especially with the departure of My Friend.
And of my friends, a significant number of them are men, and they are awesome.
You can go now.

Nuff said....

For boys, there is a 35% increase in the likelihood of marriage for each 16-point rise in IQ. For girls, there is a 40% drop for each 16-point increase. (Pinched from a Green Fairy link)

My IQ has been tested at various levels, the average of which is about 130.
Which means that there is an approximate 80% drop (from what?) in the likelihood of me getting married. So science has spoken, and I'm never getting hitched.
Personally, the only marriage I can see myself being a part of involves Viggo Mortensen (or possibly Goran Visnjisc), an Elvis impersonator as celebrant, and a Vegas chapel. I think the chances of that are fairly slim, in fact about equal to the chances of me becoming Pope or perhaps the Queen of Egypt.
But its nice to know that I have science on my side.
Yay for science.

Auckland, where the Orcs come from

I have been having a difficult time responding when people ask me "So, how was the Big Day Out?"
Usually its been "Wow" followed by a look of complete disbelief and a shake of the head as if to say "I really can't compute let alone verbalise how truly awesome the Big Day Out was".
But the whole trip was just really cool.
We stayed with the lovely Katy in poncy Parnell the first night, and went out for dinner, as Nike and myself were both craving steak of some description. We had possibly the most annoying French waiter, who thought he was all that and a packet of crisps, but once we'd dealt to him it was cool to just catch up. And the steak was good. We also went shopping in Onehunga's huge DressSmart, and got some bargains. Bargains good.
Thursday was fairly cruisy, involving a late lunch in a cute wee cafe, although again with the good food and crap service. After a trip to the Swiss Butcher where Nike and Sina spent up large on German style sausage and assorted pork products, it was back to Greg's for some serious sofa time. There was beer, there was food, and there was "Super Size Me", which made for a very cool evening which could have probably stayed at just that, but we had the urge to head townwards and mingle with the beautiful people. And that we did, arriving home about 2.30am, putting an interesting spin on our breakfast with Sina's friend at 7.00 the next morning. After fruit salad and pastries in Remuera (living it up with the rich folk, yeah) we took off to Kelly Tarleton's and hung out with the sting rays and penguins and fishies.
Penguins are awesome. I want one.
Then back to Greg's for a huge protein-fix fry up to give us energy to make it through our Big Day, where we arrived at 1pm, just in time to catch the truly Cool The Donna's. Rock and roll.
I was also witness to the John Butler Trio, Powderfinger, System of a Down and The Hives. Scribe and P-Money bought several of their friends: Con-Psy, Savage, Four Corners and Blindspott of all bands, with whom they did an awesome mash up of "Lit Up" vs. "Stand Up". Cool, and very slick. You could tell he was chuffed to be playing the main stage.
Shihad, who thankfully are back to being Shihad again, enough of this Pacifier nonsense, were their usual fucking awesome, but they were plagued a little by technical problems. Not to the scale of 2003, when Queens of the Stone Age had to abandon their set after two songs, but it was noticeable. Jon Toogood is just the best rock star I think I've seen, hes a real pro. He got the audience psyched up before every song, and was striking the poses and playing the guitar like a mad demon. Which of course, he is. They played some stuff off their new record too, which sounds as if it may be vastly superior to the previous one. The whole Pacifier thing was a bad idea, it was a stupid name and the Pacifier album was their weakest yet. So way to be Shihad again, both in name and music. yeah.
And then, there were the Beastie Boys.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
I still think I can't quite compute how utterly awesome that experience was. They were so professional and funky and exhilarating and energetic and loud and iconic and bouncy and shiny and familiar and polished and happy and including the audience and not like some acts that are performing on autopilot. Its fairly safe to say that hour and a half that they played was definately in my top three best gigs of all time. If not number one.
Words cannot do it justice. Its almost like those religious experiences the God-botherers go on about. OK maybe not, but seeing as how I am without religion, I'll have to get it where I can.
And to top it off, once they'd finished, and then came back to do "Intergalactic" and "Sabotage" (which they dedicated to the freshly re-inagurated monkey boy president of their home country. Nice.) I got to head to the Boiler Room and see the Chemical Brothers. And sweat out my own body weight for the third time that day.
It was one of the best days ever.
And then, the next morning Carlos (my sister's Chilean boyfriend) came and picked us up and took us to my sister's house in Leigh, about an hour north of Auckland, and we went snorkelling and saw loads of fish and cool stuff and a big scary sting ray that wanted to bite me, I could just tell. And then Emma cooked us a big feed, and we chilled out and talked about stuff and things, and I slept on a bed for the first time since Tuesday night, and then on Sunday we went back to Auckland and went up the Skytower, which I wanted to jump off, but was ridiculously expensive. $195 for a static line jump, at half the natural speed of falling, not even any decent bungy jump action. So we said bollocks to that, and went to the airport and came home, truly knackered.
As of today I have exactly five weeks before my thesis ABSOLUTELY MUST be handed in, so the next few weeks are going to be interesting. Especially as how I've got loads of project work to be done and will be working loads more at the restaurant because Pip's doctor has decided that he wants to change his holiday time, and he will be taking out the pins and bolts and things out of her broken leg two weeks early which is when Carlie will be in Australia so we'll be two supervisors down which is fairly significant when there's only three full time supervisors. And term starts in three weeks and I'll have to start taking some tutorials as well. Oh yeah, moulding the minds of youth!!
So thats put the kybosh on the triathalon and any decent sleep for the next month.
Speaking of work, thats where I'll be going to now.
Have a super day, and remember that the Beastie Boys do indeed rule.

A letter to you on a cassette, cos we don't write anymore.....

It would appear that all the good ones are taken. And some of the not-so-good.
Save for He Who Must Not Be Named In A Public Forum, they're all bastards, or chickenshit (although many out there believe him to be the former. Hes really not, in so many ways).
It seems strange to me that so many men are afraid of women. (Usually its ugly women who say that as an excuse for not getting any dates, but I'm not particularly ugly. At least not once I've had my morning cuppa. My Mum says I'm pretty.)
In this day and age it does shock me that men still look for women to be that stereotype of our parents' era.
The impression that I get is that I would have to censor myself in some way to be found agreeable. Well bollocks to that. My Dad, who has a quote for every occasion, although its usually from Mark Twain, says the best piece of advice he can give anybody is "To thine own self be true".
OK, so I'm a bit mad. And stroppy and impatient and spoilt and vain.
But I'm not going to sit round and wait. I've got better things to do with my life.
And I refuse to believe that there is something fundamentally wrong with me that expresses itself in my lack of relationships. I have survived far worse things than not haing a boyfriend, and have come out tougher and wiser because of them.
And I have found that there are decent men out there, despite the opinion of those around me on his character, its just that sometimes you can't have them, or they move away, or the timing is all wrong.
But you know what, I've got things in my life that people would kill for.
So fuck it. My life is great. Its a bit mental sometimes, but its my life and I get to do what I love doing, and I won't compromise that for anything. (Except maybe Goran Visnjic. Joking. Partially)
Maybe its because I'm staring down the barrel of thirty, but I remember people saying that as you get older you get a better handle on who you are, and I remember thinking that they were full of shit cos I was in my very early twenties and thought I was all grown up.
But its true. And I am awesome. So bollocks to Mister "I'll call you tomorrow and thats the last I heard from him arsehole". YOU LOSE!!!
Again with the random Pacey quote...

And here comes the aftermath...

This here is a good article.
This one here pissed me off no end.
I have a rather simplistic view of the world, I'm sure, it comes from being a simple creature. I have a fairly strong view of what I believe is right and wrong, and all this religious crap just serves to muddy the waters, and offers people ways of justifying their actions to some external power to save them having to justify their actions to themselves. I really have no problem with God, its the religion that really bites.
By definition, the Christian God is omnipotent and benevolent. That is what they would have us believe, and its what we were taught at school in chapel services. So, if God is omnipotent, he would have seen the tsunami coming. If he is benevolent, he would have done something to stop it. So, either the God they would have us believe in saw it coming and did nothing and is therefore not benevolent, or didn't see it coming and is therefore not omnipotent.
I know, its a simple argument, and I'm sure those who have swallowed the lie have ways of explaining this to me.
All I can say is that those affected by this horror don't need your prayers. They need your money. They need vaccinations, fresh water, food, medicines, new houses, new clothes, trauma counselling, doctors, new schoolbooks, nappies, mosquito nets. They also need to rebuild their economies so they can afford tsunami warnings.
This disaster serves to demonstrate the poverty in the Asia Pacific region. They need our help, more than anyone has needed it before. What they don't need is people telling them that its all part of God's plan, and that their loved ones have gone to a better place. They may well have, but you try telling that to the women who watched their children drown, and those who are still watching their children die of disease and hunger in the aftermath.
Perhaps I am overly sceptical, but I'm having a hard time finding any miracles here.

Normal programming will resume eventually.

Addendum: When I was 17 and Emma 20, we always said we were twins, which is why only she had ID in pubs. Here is how we got away with it.

On the peculiarities of the feline infant.

I'm currently housesitting for my sister and her husband, and am consequently in charge of two kittens and two fish.
The fish really aren't a problem, as long as I remember to feed them every two days and turn the filter on occasionally, they really aren't much of a bother. Its not like they can set the burglar alarm off, or run across the keyboard while one is trying to write a blog. No.
Strawberry is sitting on the table next to my computer, intently watching my fingers as they type, and threatening to attack them at any moment. She also continues to attempt to walk across the keyboard, despite that plan being thwarted EVERY SINGLE TIME. Perhaps shes not too bright. But shit, shes really cute. Strawberry is the more people-orientated of the two, she follows me around the house and (just walked behind the computer instead of attempting to walk across it! We might be learning! wait, no, just trying from another angle) likes to cuddle up and sit on my knee when I'm watching telly or reading.
Hang on, shes just managed to make the task bar at the top of the screen disappear! Fuck!
Neow is more of a loner, she doesn't really give a shit what I'm up to, as long as I feed her, but occasionally she'll sneak up for a wee cuddle, or to bite my ear. The two of them together though, are quite a team. They will pound the crap out of each other for hours on end, and then curl up together and have a sleep with their legs all intertwined. Its pretty cute.
What is not at all cute is the amounts of distress the little fuckers put me through yesterday. Whenever I leave the house, they have to be shut in the bathroom or they'll trigger the alarm. I spent 45 minutes yesterday looking for the little shit-monsters, and after searching the property (fairly substantial, especially in the pissing rain when I had just spent half an hour straightening my hair which subsequently went BOOF) asking the neighbours whether they'd seen the kittens, calling work to say I'd be late cos I'd managed to lose two kittens inside a closed house, searching the house three times (again, fairly substantial task), imagining how I would explain to Samantha that Aunty Claire had lost her kitten after two days; I eventually called my Dad, because thats what I do when I don't know what to do. He said to just go to work and to call me when I got home cos the alarm wouldn't have been on so that if there was a serial killer inside the house then at least I would be on the phone to Dad at the time of my death. Well, something like that.
So I'm on the phone, fairly distressed, talking to Dad, when I hear the familiar jingle of kitten collar bells. Strawberry is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Little fucker.
Turns out they were hiding inside the sofa. INSIDE the fucking sofa. Neow emerged a couple of minutes later, and I said to Dad "excuse me I have to go now and wring some kitten necks". He suggested I stuff them down the toilet and nobody would be the wiser.
But now they're all cute and cuddly again, so we'll see how long that lasts.

Am not going to tempt fate by blogging about boys. You'll just have to wait and see. As will I.
Actually I think that my biggest fault, aside from being self-centred and a bit mad, is impatience. This may prove to be a thing.

I believe this may be my first blog for 2005.
This is also a thing, because (sob) NEXT YEAR I'M THIRTY!!!!!!!

*shot of Claire, on the floor in the corner, hugging knees and rocking, singing quietly to herself "All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air..." *

fade out