There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

Mooooooooooooooving

2009-10-21T08:59:00.000-07:00

Boy, there is sure a lot of moving going on. I am 5/7th the way all moved in the Surbiton flat, and now, I am mooooove blogs.

That's right, time to re-set your readers folks because I have had it with blogger. I'm not sure if it's me or if I'm just plain retarded, but I can't make blogger work as well for me as wordpress. Oh sure, blogger has more layouts and you can customize your themes or whatever easily and add a butt load of widgets, but it still doesn't change the fact that if I want to add a photo it appears at the top of the page and I need to drag it down to where I actually want it. So I'm sacrificing widgets and gizmos and artistic visual licence in favour of ease.

Therefore, if you read this blog and would like to continue reading this blog, head on over to

godwhenhesdrunk.wordpress.com

and let the party continue!

Home away from Home

2009-10-20T01:19:00.000-07:00

No, I haven't been neglecting this wee bloggy, but not very much is happening just the noo. Acutally, some might call that a total lie. I've been busy recently with entertaining house guests, moving MORE of my (precious) crap down to the London flat, and job hunting. But none of that is particularily noteworthy stuff.

For anyone intersted, here are what the new digs are like (note, I actually wrote this about two weeks ago. Whoops.)

(Greater) London Calling

I had the great pleasure of sleeping in until 7 on Saturday morning so that I could be dressed, ready, and set to catch a train from Waverly to Birmingham. I played it lazy and caught a bus down to Prince's (or as close as you can get with all the damn tram works gutting up the city) and made sure I had plenty of time to get my favourite roast beef sandwich from M&S for munching on the train.

The train down to Birmingham was 5 hours and some change with nothing eventful in the least to mention. I did manage to do quite a bit of knitting and even had one whole finished mitten to show for it.

Then from Birmingham I had another hour and a half train journey to London. However, I was anxiously awaiting my arrival into the Big Smoke because My Honey was meeting me at the station and taking me to our new home.

Our new home, although marketed as London, is actually about 20 mins (by fastest train) from the Waterloo city centre station in the suburb of Surbiton. And I have to say, it's quite nice! The neighbourhood reminds me of the nice, old areas of Santa Rosa- Like the houses in and around MacDonald Drive, just without the mansions and with the larger homes actually being made up of 3 or 4 flats. Even though we live on a main street, it's so much quieter than our flat in Edinburgh, and that' not just because the pubs close at 10 or 11 instead of 1 or 3 AM. We don't get the constant sirens, the singing drunks, the knock-out brawls, or the sweet lullaby of crashing glass bottles any more. Instead, we are across the street from several Italian restaurants, a French restaurant, a Chinese takeaway, and some smaller shops. We have a nice 10 minute walk through a small residential and forested area, and arrive at Surbiton high street which houses a GIANT Waitrose, a GIANT Sainsbury, and a smallish M&S (no clothes). There's also quite a smattering of cafes, a few pubs, and some good charity shops. I can't wait to explore the bigger supermarkets and the larger cache of ingredients they're sure to wield.

BUT, we are also only a 10 minute bus ride from Kingston, which has some great shopping. A giant John Lewis, some other department store I had never heard of, a Primark, a clothing store that starts with Uni which I really like (Uniqui? UniGlo? UniQuoi?), an Odeon, Argos, basically everything you would need. (EDIT: I just realised that Kingston is only a freaking 1.3 miles away. Totally walkable, especially by the river!)

I've not been into London proper yet, but know that it's only a (relatively) fast train away. Apparently the National Archives are somewhere close around here, so I would ideally like to look for a job there first before looking at places farther away.(EDIT: FUCKING National Archives! Won't hire me due to an antiquated law that FORBIDS anyone NON British/Commonwealth/EU from doing research for hire. Dude, it's not 1776 anymore and we Yanks are NOT trying to sneak into your country and rewrite your precious history!)

Now for the flat: awesome. It's about 2.5x bigger than what we had back in the Burgh. You enter through a communal door and then it's straight up some rather narrow stairs. Then you unlock the door to our flat and there's about a 3x3 space to hang some coats before going straight up some more stairs. At the top is all ours. To the left is a kitchen and bathroom, to the right a hallway which leads to a bedroom and a living room. It's SO NICE to have actual rooms. The old place in Edinburgh was like two rooms. Because our bath room was so small and didn't count. But here, you actually have a separate and isolated kitchen, a separate and isolated bathroom WITH A BATHTUB! And a wonderful living room that totally just makes the flat feel like an actual home. My Honey did a great job pillaging IKEA and we made off with some great things. I love that we now have an ACTUAL couch that can comfortably fit more half a body, room for chairs, and space for bookcases. Plus a bedroom bit enough to actually accommodate a bed AND not one, but two wardrobes! It still doesn't feel like 100% mine yet since I still have quite a lot of things still in Edinburgh, but I can't wait to get this place outfitted with home-like things. I can't wait to actually start using the kitchen, to get baking, to fill the cupboard with spices and pastas and tins. to reorganise the bookshelf alphabetically (nerd, I know), to fill up the air with my incense, and to deck the place out with candles and flowers.

The stairs leading up from our front door to the main door of our flat

Some living room action

Another reason to hate skinny chicks

2009-10-07T09:08:00.000-07:00

I am, for the most part, very happy with my body. Yeah, I know I need to lose the stone I put on thanks to dissertation stress/never leaving the computer for 3 months, and yeah, I could also do with losing another stone which I gained after returning to America after my year long study abroad in the UK the first time around. BUT, that aside, for the most part I am not that fussed.

That is until last week. And it's not so much a desire to be thin but because I'm a cheap ass bastard who had a revelation: Skinny chicks spend less money. And spending less money means having more in the bank.

How did this come about? Friction. You see, as I was sitting down on the couch one day, I realised that my thigh friction had caused my jeans to weaken to the point that they started to disintegrate and form holes. This meant I needed to buy another pair of jeans. But hold up, these jeans I was in were not that old. I mean, I purchased them in December of last year- they were only 10 months old. And they were Levis. LEVI JEANS SHOULD LAST LONGER THAN LESS THAN A YEAR!!!!!

Then it hit me- those girls, the ones who fall over when someone sneezes, have 'the gap'- that space between the legs where their thighs don't touch and their crotch is free to feel the breezes, unhindered by any wobbly bits. I have never had this in my life, even when I wore a size 3 in the Juniors section when I was 13. My thighs have always touched. But girls with 'the gap' don't get thigh friction and can probably make a pair of Levis last for years. Heck, they probably don't even need to buy new jeans EVER because nothing on their bodies would ever generate enough friction to cause jeans to disintegrate- except for maybe their spindly kneeds poking through, and even that nowadays in considered trendy.

But it goes beyond frictionless clothes. As a knitter, I am having to always spend just a little bit more to buy those one or two extra skeins of wool to make the medium patterns. Chicks in the XS-S range get to spend less on yarn- and those extra yards can add up to an extra hat or set of mittens!

They take up less space in bed which means they can get by fine in a single bed, and can even share that with a partner because heck- they're so skinny that if they lie sidways, it's like they're not even there. And single beds and all their bed linen accoutrements is significantly cheaper than buying for a double or larger.

Since they're smaller, it also means their clothes are smaller, which in turn means they can pack more clothes into a suitcase. This means it's cheaper for them to fly on those budget airlines which charge for cases/weight.

Overall, this means that skinny chicks should be saving bank, and that just pisses me off because I am Skinty McSkink face over here who had to sacrifice getting a hair cut (it's been 4 months now, the hair is looking bad!) in order to replace the 10 month old jeans thanks to my thunder thighs. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Pho-Tastic!

2009-09-21T04:21:00.000-07:00

As much as I would like to convince myself otherwise, there are few things in this world that excite me more than food. I once told My Honey that a very under-rated, but downright amazing superpower to have would be to be able to speak the language of whatever native country you're in. He scoffed at this, saying that he would much rather have laser eyes or something, but I replied 'if you could speak the language of the locals, you could find out all the best places to eat!'. He laughed at me and said 'it all comes back to food, doesn't it?'.

Yes, it does.

For the past 5 years, I have been having Vietnamese Pho withdrawal. Vietnamese food in general. Whenever I got the chance to go home, the foods I immediately had to cram down my throat as a welcome ceremony for being back in the States were fish tacos from non-English speaking hole in the walls, and Vietnamese food.

I love how fresh Viennese food is- you literally eat the stuff within seconds of it being made, and only fresh ingredients will make it work. So imagine how happy I was to find out that they sold rice paper wraps at the Asian Mart a block from my flat in Edinburgh. I threw myself into making Vietnamese spring rolls, and for a while, it sated my desire for Vietnamese food. I also expanded and made Vietnamese noodle salads and tried to spread the Vietnamese goodness to anyone who would come to dinner. But my precious Pho was always unattainable.

I've found plenty of recipes for Pho online, but the beef stock in itself would take a day or so to prepare, use 800 spices and ingredients, and honestly, I couldn't be bothered.

Yesterday I had to go shopping for a little dinner party I have having where I planned on serving Vietnamese spring rolls with a peanut sauce as a starter. But I had stupidly forgot to purchase the rice vermicelli at the Asian mart the day before, and sadly, it was closed on Sundays. So I hoped and prayed that the large stop Waitrose would have what I needed. As I walked from Tollcross up and over towards the Morningside area, I passed a Thai mart in Bruntsfield. Obviously I had to go in. Not only did they have my noodles, but they had PHO STOCK! A little brown jar filled with a gelatinous mix of garlic, spices, and chilies. I felt like I had just completed a mission in life. They also had a fresh section that had Thai Basil, Thai coriander, and mint, and beansprouts. It was like Jesus said 'go forth and make Pho'. And I did. I had planned on just having it veggie style, but on the way home, I passed the giant ScotMid and figured I might as well take a look at their meat. Lo and behold, they had a thing of thinly sliced Angus beef slices for sale. Another sign!

I raced home, and even though I had to prepare this big dinner, I had to have my Pho first. I boiled the water, added a spoonful of the Pho stock, and giddly danced around the bubbling pot, unable to contain my excitement as I threw in the noodles. I put 3 strips of the beef in the largest bowl I had (my giant mixing bowl) and poured the hot soup mixture over it. The beef was thin enough that it cooked within seconds. Then I washed and threw in my fresh, precious herbs. I even had some Hoi Son sauce to bung in. The smell coming from my pot was orgasm inducing and the taste....oh my sack, it was like finding the holy grail of deliciousness.

Naturally I found this amazing shop about a month or so before I have to move, but I plan on stock piling the Pho mix in the event that I will never find it again. I know that London does have Vietnamese restaurants, but we will be living quite far from the city center, and cost wise, it might not make sense to dash into London proper for a bowl of food (not that I'm sure it won't happen), but now I know I have the ability to replicate the food I love, and I haven't been able to stop smiling since!

WTF Jesus?

2009-09-16T08:51:00.000-07:00

Let's get one thing out there right now. I belive in evolution. Hardcore. I most certainly do not believe that Jesus rode a dinosaur.

I also believe that chemicals and poisioning the earth will result in some fucked up shit. Like this:

Yes. That is a snake. A snake with a CLAW OF DEATH!!

Dean Qiongxiu, 66, said she discovered the reptile clinging to the wall of her bedroom with its talons in the middle of the night.

"I woke up and heard a strange scratching sound. I turned on the light and saw this monster working its way along the wall using his claw," said Mrs Duan of Suining, southwest China.

Working it sway along the wall using his claw. WTF! Now, snakes are alreay scary enough with their silent, slithering-ness and their fanes of venemous death. The last thing we need is to have snakes with claws able to abilsail walls, ceilings, and bite your face off all the while clawing your innerds out.

Sick on Sunday =Productivity

2009-09-06T05:03:00.000-07:00

Naturally, I get a call on Thursday from the Temp Agency asking if I could work an extra week at the Hospital. And since I am desperate for the cash, I eagerly agree. Only to discover on Friday night that that strange tickle in my throat had morphed in to sore, aching, painful to swallow pain in my throat. By Saturday morning, when I had to go into work at the Library, it was def. obvious that I had caught something and was suffering. So I employed my Quick Cure For Sickness technique- drank about 10 cups of tea and went to bed early. Sunday I woke up feeling leaps better. The sore throat had reverted back to it's dull ache, the stuff coming out of my nose was no longer sludge green but back to clear, and the headache that made me want to decapitate myself was reduced to just a aching inconvenience. Do I feel well enough to paint the town red, hike a mountain, or wake up the next day before 6 to go to work? No, but I do fell well enough to spend the day inside, listening to 1920-50s radio, baking, cooking, and knitting. Ahhhhhhhhhh.

Being sick like I am, I felt like soup was in order. So I bundled myself up, took a quick trip to the store, and came back prepared for the week. Dinner for tonight (and most likely tomorrow and possible the following night too) will be Leek and Potato Soup with Fresh Baked Bread rolls.

2-3 good Leeks, cut up good
2-3 potatoes, diced
1-2 pints of stock- mine ended up being two parts chicken one part veg thanks to what was in the cupbord
1 garlic clove smushed.

Throw the leeks in the pan with a big knob of butter. Let them sizzle and get wilty while you're peeling and dicing the potatoes. Throw in the spuds, cover with stock, and cover and simmer on low for a few hours. I like to then take a hand blender and churn up the chunks so that the soup is creamy, but a lot of restaurants leave the soup chunky.

The Bread recipe is your standard googled one. Something like 3 cups flour, 2 tbls of yeast, some warm water, and a pinch of salt. Kneed, cover, let raise, bake.

But I still had to deal with lunch. Now, being a Cali girl, I get a big craving for things like artichokes all the time. Which they only sell as artichoke hearts in a jar at Sainsbury. It's also that time of the month when I desperately start craving iron- bloody steaks, or, in this case, spinach. Lots of it. So I'm thinking something like an artichoke spinach dip. Unfort., all the recipes online involve a butt load of mayo and I have cream cheese to use up, so I figured I'd make my own up.

Lunch: Open Faced Bagel Sandwich with fresh artichoke spinach spread and tomatoes.
1 Jar of Sainsbury grilled artichoke hearts
half a bag of spinach
1 clove garlic (two if you're trying to combat illness like moi)
half a tub of low fat cream cheese (gotta feel somewhat healthy)
bagels
Tomatoes
Parmesan cheese

I threw in the artichokes, letting some of the olive oil it was packed in drip off first in to my mini food processor. Then I wilted the fresh spinach in a bit of kettle boiled water. Dumped that in. Tossed in my garlic, and then threw in about half of my cream cheese. Churned that up good. Done. Then I just spread it on a bagel , topped with fresh tomato, and sprinkled with a dash of Parmesan. Toasted it for about 2 mins under the grill.

And now, nothing left to do but sit back, munch away, and debate which mitten pattern I want to finish.

Have the crazies left yet?

2009-09-01T16:19:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that August in Edinburgh is Crazy Land. I'm sure Brittney Spears would be absolutely at home here. The streets are PACKED. Not just packed like a busy shopping sale weekend, but packed as in you need to have a torch and whip to beat back the hordes of tourists who like to just stop in the middle of the street to stare at yet another dude dressed in drag.

It takes at least an additional 10 minutes to get from point A to B because of how long it takes to wade through the throngs. And in addition to the billion of tourists visiting the City are the Crazies. These consist of
1) People who think they have talent but really really don't. Be they the most cringing and un-funny 'comedians', people who think others want to see them dressed in chicken costumes miming acts from Post- Modernest French deconstruction theatre, or those who think the public enjoy listening to their renditions of Beatles medleys played on the kazoo.

2) The groupies- the ones who hang out with the 'performers' who think they are the shit because they totally know that guy playing a violin while balancing on stilts.

3) General crazy-ass people who think that since everyone else is ACTING crazy, then they are at liberty to express their inner looney. Most of the time they do this by 'dancing' in ridiculous and downright frightful over expressive movements to the music of other street performers that they meet along their crazy wanderings. Maybe they'll just get a little too involved in others' performances by trying to steal the scene. Or, in my case, they decided to go to the National Library and cause all sorts of a commotion.

Par example, the other day, while minding my own business, we received a complain from one of our more scholarly patrons that an individual was cutting her toenails in the reading room. Now, the reading room consists of 6 24 seater tables, so not at all privet. And, she also left all her clipping right there as well. AND, to add insult to injury, she demanded to see the manager after being told off by him to complain that she didn't see anything wrong with her actions. This caused quite a commotion from another patron who very loudly informed her what an unhygienic prat she was being.

THEN, the same day, while I was manning the security desk, a clearly crazy woman came in. Crazy because her hair looked like Medusa, she was wearing a hot pink bra underneath a see-through black lace lingerie top, and she was eating an apple. In a National Library. She strutted around in front of the desk as she took in the sights while I tried to think of how to politely say she needed to leave. Luckily, before I managed to get a word out, she headed back out towards the doors, but not before turning to me to ask 'Are you happy here? Like, is the vibe really good?' 'Umm, yeah, I quite enjoy it' I manged to stammer out. ' Really? Because I've been fucking miserable for months!' and with that, she left.

THEN, during the same week, we had a guy dressed in a skin tight biker (think Lance Armstrong) suit come in with a megaphone. Which he spoke through, as though riling the troops to give hugs not drugs and peace a chance. He claimed he wanted to come into the Library, but was deaf and needed the security woman to answer through the megaphone. She refused, but even though be claimed to be deaf, it didn't stop HIM from using the megaphone and making US all deaf by default. Finally, after the security lady conveyed that he needed to get a readers ticket before being allowed access, he left, announcing to the library that we 'could now go about [our] business.' I would bet £10 he was just another crazy trying to get away with using a megaphone in a library. Wanker.

Luckily, the Fringe festival is now OVER, the streets have cleared, the billion fliers decorating every flat surface have been binned, and there are no longer people in gimp suits walking nonchalantly around. I have about a week rest before the students descend. Giggidy.

Blogger found buried in yarn

2009-08-29T12:19:00.000-07:00

Oh hai. Where have I been? Doing f* all except knitting and updating my knitting blog waaaaaay more dilligently than this one.

In terms of life, things are moving. My Honey is getting set to move to LAAANDON in less than a week (ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh), leaving me here to work my wee fingers to the bone, alllllll alone, for another 3 months. Actually, I've noticed that the work gods like to frequently piss on my parade whenever I plan on taking a holiday. I'd managed to swap my schedule around enough at the Library to take a whole week off without having to lose a day of pay so that I could get down to London and move my half of my shit in to our new flat. I'd worked out the cheapest way to get down to London (via Brimingham as it happens) and then out to Surbiton. I was thiiiiiiiiiiiiiis close to buying the tickets, but I was waiting until the start of the month when I got paid. And then I got a call from the Temp Agency. Temp Agency said the Hospital of Hell wanted me back for two weeks to cover a holidayh leave. So I was faced with either declining and going through with my soujourn down to London, or working the two weeks, make about what I make in a MONTH of working at the Library, and then plan to go down to London at the end of the month for Kiki's birthday.

I caved and said I'd do it.

So starting Monday 14, I will be going back to the Hospital of Hell to do reception for two weeks (and hopefully making some ~~yarn money~~ rent/train fare/food money). BUT, because I swapped all my days around to plan for a week off, it means I am working a full Monday-Saturday weeek at the library for one of those two weeks ON TOP of the Hopsital job. So I'm doing 14 hour days.

And I know that as much as I need to scrimp and save right now to be able to afford London life, I plan on living off Ramen noodles for 2 months and treating myself to ENOUGH YARN FOR A KICK ASS SWEATER.

Geneology

2009-08-18T05:29:00.001-07:00

All this Eastern European thinking (I know, I know, I still have 3 more days of adventures to post!) really got me thinking about my grandpa. He died when I was 10 (or 9), and while I remember being very close to him, I didn't really know anything about his past. I guess blathering on about early days Czechoslovakia isn't something you do when there are tractors to be ridden.

I wrote to my grandma to try to get more info on him now. She said that the tried to get his birth certificate and lucked out because she didn't thing she would have been able under the then communist regime. She said she also managed to get his school referral letter from Minnasota to back up the certificate. The city says Rozdelov ahn Kladno, but grandma says that his mom also gave Kladno as their original home. However, for all we know, Rozdelov ahn could just mean City of...

His original name was Vladislav Vilém Jilek, (wow, so European!) but changed his name to William Vietor Yilek, and then again to William (Bill) Victor Yilek. Apparently entering a new country during the late 1920s/30 (not sure when, but just shortly after WWI ended) with a name like Vladislav was a bit scary, so my grandpa went with his middle name which translated better.

I wish I had this info when I went to the Czech republic 4 years ago. I've alway been curious to see the city where my granpa grew up, and had I known it was only 30 kilom. from Prague, I would have put in some effort to make the journey. I remember grandpa telling me it was in the heart of Bohemia, which is why he found it so amusing that we lived a few miles from Bohemian Hwy.

Krakow Adventure Day 5

2009-08-11T08:16:00.001-07:00

Due to my rant on immigration, I totally lost track that I was still recounting my Krakow adventures.

July 30 2009

Today was castle day!

We walked to Wawel Castle around 11. Jim found a tour guide who would give us a tour of St. Stanislaus Cathedral. He was EXTREAMLY knowledgeable and really explained the cathedral well. Unfortunately, you're not allowed to take any pictures inside, but it's glitzy! Since it was the Royal Cathedral for the kings of Poland (before the capital was moved to Warsaw), it is filled with gold and silver.

There is a solid silver reliquary in the centre of the nave which holds the remains of St. Stanislaus. Our guide explained all the tombs, the history of the kings buried in them, and how Pope John Paul II (who grew up and lived in Krakow) used the cathedral. Then we went to tour the palace.

Unfortunately, you have to buy tickets in advance for things like the private rooms and such, and a lot of the tickets were sold out (as a way to keep the rooms preserved). But we did get to see the State rooms and the Armoury. Both were very impressive and again, filled with gold and colour. Next we went to climb the bell tower of the cathedral. The way up was very cool with lots of twisting stairs and ducking under large timer supports. Boy were my legs hurting afterwards!

By the time we left, we had spent 5 hours at the castle.

We left the ground via the Dragon's cave. There is an old story that Wawel Castle was terrorised by a dragon 1,000 years ago. This dragon lived under the castle grounds and would eat pretty Polish girls. One day, a clever 15 year old boy filled a sheep's fleece with sulphur and left it outside of the dragon's cave. The dragon ate it, but the sulphur started burning his stomach and he ran down to the river to drink. This caused the sulphur to react and the dragon blew up. The king was so grateful he have the boy his daughter to marry. A few hundred years later, peasants digging by the river found some large bones that they believed to be the dragon's. They hung them on the door of the Cathedral and the saying goes that the bones will hang there until the end of the world- or that if they fell, it would be the sign of the apocalypse. However, modern scientists have identified the bones to belong to a whale jaw and an ancient rhino that used. We went back to Kazimierz for a big late lunch/early dinner. Later that night we just had a wee snack of Zapiekana, a Polish grilled baguette pizza thing that you can get from vendors.

WHAT?!?!

2009-08-07T04:46:00.000-07:00

I just took another citizen practice test. I failed this too. BUT get this: The question was :

In which TWO of the following places does the European Parliament meet?

A) Paris

B)Strasbourg

C) London

Hmmm, where is the Brussles option, AKA the headquarters of the EU? No idea, so I'll go Paris and Strasbroug.

Incorrect. The correct answers were B Strasbourg and D Brussels. Information on this topic can be found on page 53 of the 'Life in the United Kingdom: A Journey to Citizenship Handbook.

THERE WAS NO FUCKING OPTION D!!!! How can you expect me to answer correctly if YOU DON'T GIVE ME ALL THE OPTIONS?!?!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKERS!

Can't be British

2009-08-07T04:12:00.000-07:00

This REALLY hacks me off- the Powers That Be over at our good friends Immigration have decided to administer a test to all people wishing to acquire British Citizenship. Now, there are certain elements that I do agree with, such as, if you are willing to change your nationality, then you should be fluent in the dominant language of that country. I would definitely expect me to learn Spanish and probably Quechua if i wanted to be an official citizen of Peru. So I got that one covered for UK life. But what about the other questions? These are the ones chosen by the BBC:

Question 1

Life in the UK says to be British means you should...


	A: "Respect laws, the elected political structures, traditional values of mutual tolerance and respect for rights and mutual concern."


	B: "Share in the history and culture of an island nation with a character moulded by many different peoples over more than two thousand years."


	C: "be part of a modern European democracy, one with a tradition of sharing our ways with the world – and allowing the world to bring its ways to us."

Question 2

Almost 60m people live in the UK. By what factor do the native-born English outnumber their Scots or Welsh neighbours?


	A: By nine to one


	B: By seven to one


	C: By six to one

Question 3

"The origins of our Parliament were in the early Middle Ages. In 1215 the great barons forced rights from a tyrannical King John". What is that document called?


	A: The Mappa Mundi


	B: The Magna Carta


	C: The Bill of Rights

Question 4

When did all 18-year-olds get the vote?


	A: 1918


	B: 1928


	C: 1969

Question 5

There are four national saints' days in the UK, one for each nation. Which order do they fall in the calendar?


	A: St Andrews, St Patrick's, St David's and St George's


	B: St David's, St Patrick's, St George's and St Andrews


	C: St George's, St Patrick's, St Andrews and St David's

Question 6

According to Life in the UK, where does Father Christmas come from?


	A: Lapland


	B: Iceland


	C: The North Pole

Question 7

According to the book, where does the myth of Father Christmas come from?


	A: The Victorians


	B: Pagan myths updated by Shakespeare


	C: German/Swedish immigrants to the USA

Question 8

Life in the UK explains what to do if you spill someone's pint in the pub (we're not making this up). What, according to the book, usually happens next?


	A: You would offer to buy the person another pint


	B: You would offer to dry their wet shirt with your own


	C: You may need to prepare for a fight in the car park

Question 9

You've unfortunately had that fight and are bleeding from a well-placed left hook. Which two telephone numbers can you call for an ambulance?


	A: 999 or 112


	B: 999 or 111


	C: 999 or any other digit three times

Question 10

What or who is PG (again, according to the guide)?


	A: One of the brand names for the national British drink, tea


	B: A Personal Guide, a British-born mentor provided to each immigrant applying for nationality


	C: Part of the cinema film classification system

Question 11

The British are a nation of animal lovers, says Life in the UK. What must dog owners do?


	A: Get a licence


	B: Get the dog neutered


	C: Get a collar with the owner's name and address

Question 12

Back to that pub. The police turn up with the ambulance and an officer asks you to attend an interview at the station. What are your rights?


	A: You don't have to go if you are not arrested, but if you do go voluntarily you are free to leave at any time


	B: You must go. Failure to attend an interview is an arrestable offence


	C: You must go if you are a foreign national

Question 13

What's the minimum time you must have been married before you can divorce?


	A: Six months


	B: One year


	C: Two years

Question 14

And finally, what does Life in the UK tell you it is "very important" to do when engaging a solicitor?


	A: Ask if they have a potential conflict of interest


	B: Ensure they are qualified in the area of law of concern


	C: Find out how much they charge

Now, I've been here 5 years. 5 years!!

So how did I do? And mind you, I did have to ask My Honey for help on a few...

Life in the UK says to be British means you should... I picked C...because with all the broohaha about the EU, I figured that was what they were after, although in my opinion, it should have been ALL OF THE ABOVE


	A: "Respect laws, the elected political structures, traditional values of mutual tolerance and respect for rights and mutual concern."


	B: "Share in the history and culture of an island nation with a character moulded by many different peoples over more than two thousand years."


	C: "be part of a modern European democracy, one with a tradition of sharing our ways with the world ï¿½ and allowing the world to bring its ways to us."

The answer was A

Question 2

Almost 60m people live in the UK. By what factor do the native-born English outnumber their Scots or Welsh neighbours?


	A: By nine to one


	B: By seven to one


	C: By six to one

The answer was A

Question 3

"The origins of our Parliament were in the early Middle Ages. In 1215 the great barons forced rights from a tyrannical King John". What is that document called?


	A: The Mappa Mundi


	B: The Magna Carta


	C: The Bill of Rights

The answer was B
The Answer is B. The Mappa Mundi is an ancient map of the world held at Hereford Cathedral and the Bill of Rights came later in 1689.

Question 4

When did all 18-year-olds get the vote? I chose 1928...because i figured that was around when women in the US were given the right to vote and that maybe that whole go to war thing post WWI would make it leagal for war going youths to vote. Nope.


	A: 1918


	B: 1928


	C: 1969

The answer was C
The answer is C. Women over 30-years-old got the vote in 1918. Ten years later the law equalised the franchise for all men and women over 21. In 1969 the then Labour government lowered the voting age to 18.

Question 5

There are four national saints' days in the UK, one for each nation. Which order do they fall in the calendar? I KNEW that St. Patricks day is March 17 (almost an American holiday), and that St. Andrew's is in November, but I had NO Idea where the other days fell. My Honey was incredibly wrong in asking if there was a St. Georges, St. Andrews, St. Patricks combo.


	A: St Andrews, St Patrick's, St David's and St George's


	B: St David's, St Patrick's, St George's and St Andrews


	C: St George's, St Patrick's, St Andrews and St David's

The answer was B
The dates are 1 March (David for Wales), 17 March (Patrick for N Ireland), 23 April (George for England) and 30 November (Andrew for Scotland)

Question 6

According to Life in the UK, where does Father Christmas come from? I asked My Honey TWICE if it was Lapland. And then I made fun of him for NEVER seeing any of the American movies which clearly state that Santa is from the North Pole. Because he totally is. But My Honey was insistant. Bastard.


	A: Lapland


	B: Iceland


	C: The North Pole

The answer was C

Question 7

According to the book, where does the myth of Father Christmas come from? This is another one I am kicking myself for. I KNEW it was immigrants to the US and I even had that ticked, but then I started second guessing myself and said 'well, if the Victorians introcuded the Christmas Tree, maybe they brought the Santa story too.'


	A: The Victorians


	B: Pagan myths updated by Shakespeare


	C: German/Swedish immigrants to the USA

The answer was C
This is a hotly disputed issue, not least because of the role of the Coca Cola Company in updating the legend in the early 20th Century.

Question 8

Life in the UK explains what to do if you spill someone's pint in the pub (we're not making this up). What, according to the book, usually happens next?


	A: You would offer to buy the person another pint


	B: You would offer to dry their wet shirt with your own


	C: You may need to prepare for a fight in the car park

The answer was A
Manners should prevail, says the guide, saying it would be "prudent" to buy a replacement.

Question 9

You've unfortunately had that fight and are bleeding from a well-placed left hook. Which two telephone numbers can you call for an ambulance? Right but cheated- I had to ask my Honey which one it was, 112 or 111


	A: 999 or 112


	B: 999 or 111


	C: 999 or any other digit three times

The answer was A
The UK introduced the 112 number to help foreign visitors who may not know that 999 is the main emergency number.

Question 10

What or who is PG (again, according to the guide)?


	A: One of the brand names for the national British drink, tea


	B: A Personal Guide, a British-born mentor provided to each immigrant applying for nationality


	C: Part of the cinema film classification system

The answer was C
It means Parental Guidance and applies to films where viewing is at the discretion of the parent. The other classifications are U, 12, 15 and 18.

Question 11

The British are a nation of animal lovers, says Life in the UK. What must dog owners do? Once again, ALL OF THE ABOVE would have been real nice to see


	A: Get a licence


	B: Get the dog neutered


	C: Get a collar with the owner's name and address

The answer was C
The answer is C. Dog licences were abolished in 1987, but Life in the UK says there is still an obligation for a dog to wear a collar with the appropriate details.

Question 12

Back to that pub. The police turn up with the ambulance and an officer asks you to attend an interview at the station. What are your rights?


	A: You don't have to go if you are not arrested, but if you do go voluntarily you are free to leave at any time


	B: You must go. Failure to attend an interview is an arrestable offence


	C: You must go if you are a foreign national

The answer was A

Question 13

What's the minimum time you must have been married before you can divorce?


	A: Six months


	B: One year


	C: Two years

The answer was B

Question 14

And finally, what does Life in the UK tell you it is "very important" to do when engaging a solicitor?


	A: Ask if they have a potential conflict of interest


	B: Ensure they are qualified in the area of law of concern


	C: Find out how much they charge

The answer was C
I'm sorry- find out how much they charge is more important than finding out if they are qualified?!?! No wonder no one sues anyone in this country- no one is qualified to do it.

So there we go. I only got 6 out of 14 correct and am PISSING MYSELF SCARED that I am going to fail this test if and when I take it. Especially if they ask inane and reDUNKulous questions like those. Because you're not really British unless you know where Santa comes from. Especially if it's a Santa YOU STOLE from the Americans. God, I wish this test were essay format. I FAIL miserably on multiple choice, but somehow do insanely brilliantly on essay. Fucking British Citizen test.

Krakow Adventure Day 4

2009-08-06T14:15:00.000-07:00

July 29 2009

Today My Honey and I took a tour of the Salk Mines at Wieliczka. These are the world's oldest salt mines and date back to 1280. There are 9 levels, but tourists are only allowed into the first three.

There are more than 215 miles of tunnels that run underground. All throughout the mines are amazing carvings done by miners over the years. These statues are incredible!

The pinnacle of the tour is St. Kinga's Chapel, a large, functioning chapel located 200 meters underground. Everything is carved from salt! The walls, the tiles, the statues of Jesus and other biblical figures, and even the chandeliers!

The salt is very dark and looks like marble, feels like glass, and tastes like salt. You have to squeeze into an old fashion elevator to descend into the mines. It's very cramped, small, dark, and not a place for anyone claustrophobic! We got back at 1:30. Then we went to get lunch. We ate at a perogi cafe which had 28 different types of dumplings. My Hondy and I shared a dish of lamb and herb, and potato and cheese. I originally wanted to get some strawberry and blueberry filled ones, but we were way too full to manage. Then we met up with his parents for some drinks, followed by a little relaxing and nap. Later that night My Honey and I went to a sushi restaurant across the street to try what sushi is like the Poland. The verdict? Delicious. Then back to the Kazimierz square for cocktails!

Krakow Adventure Day 3

2009-08-05T14:23:00.000-07:00

July 28 2009

Same morning routine as yesterday. Today we were going to investigate the synagogues around the old town of Kazimierz. This part was known as the Jewish quarter, and for a while, was a separate town from Krakow. Apparently Krakow has over 600 churches, but Kazimierz has like 30 synagogues.

This is the "Old Synagogue", the oldest synagogue still standing in Krakow, and now a museum of Jewish history. Now, I used to work at a Jewish summer camp for kids (only counsellor there to have gone to a Catholic summer camp as a child, raised by a Buddhist wannabe mother, and Presbyterian grandmother), so I thought I knew a bit about Judaism, but damn! I have no idea how anyone can keep orthodox these days. For example, it's forbidden for Jews to work at all Friday to Sunday. This includes cooking, cleaning, lighting candles, making fires, etc. Fair enough. Which is why is ye olden times, children under the age of 13 did all that stuff for their families since children under 13 wern't seen as proper Jews until they underwent their bar mitzvah/bat mitzvahs. But then came electricy. Was flipping on a switch the same as lighting a candle? Yes. As is powering up any electronics. Like computers, cell phones, and elevators. Which is why apparently there are some elevators in orthodox communities that are programmed to stop on each floor in a cycle so that no one has to 'work' to press a button. But I can't imagine having to either never turn the lights on or on the flip side, never turn them off, thus having to either live in a world of darkness or pay out the nose for electricity. Unless you can always have a live in slave child.....

Anyway, the Nazis went through and removed all the Jews, but they left a fair ammount of the buildings in the Jewish quarter for other purposes.

Afterwards, we wandered down the Planty. The Planty used to be part of the moat surrounding Wawel castle, but was drained and converted to a garden walkway in the 18th century. It's filled with benches, trees, flowers, and is a nice stroll around the perimeter of the Old Town. For dinner, we went to this authentic Polish restaurant where the seats are big wooden benches covered in sheep hides. Spinning wheels and other farm utensils cover the walls.

The food is really good too! We got Pork Knuckle, something we've seen a lot on the menus. It's basically a large part of pork (but don't know what part the knuckle is-- either the knee or ankle) and it takes 2-3 people to eat it. I also got a side of beets which were so sweet and delicious I could have eaten it as a meal unto itself. Like candy. Only beet-ier. The meal also came with bread and two spreads: Cream cheese and chives, and LARD. Or as The Dad called it, drippings. Aka the white fat and oil that most people drain off their bacon in fatty solidified form. He loved it and couldn't stop eating it, but the rest of us gave it a miss. Okay, well it is me here, so naturally I tried it, but have to say I didn't really enjoy it. Afterwards we walked back through the Jewish Market Square, which is nothing but clubs are bars, to get some drinks. And that's where I had my first taste of Cherry Vodka. Oh my god, it's delicious, especially mixed with coke.

Seriously. This isn't just your granny's flavoured voddy, it's a cherry cordial called Wisniowka, which you either sip from big shot glasses or, if you're like me, have in coke. And I just remember I lied- we actually had this drink at the crazy restaurant that served me the giant stien of beer. After the meal, as if we weren't tipsy enough, they came around and gave everyone a shot of this Cherry Vodka as an after meal digestive. That we sipped. I just forgot about that part until now. Anyway, the bar we were in was pretty cool. The whole place was lit up with candles. There were 3 rooms to the place, and you entered from one to the over via a wardroboe. As in, why have a door/archway into another room when you can have people walk through a wardrobe, C.S. Lewis style? But after a few drinks, it was getting late, so we swayed ourselve outside and back to the hotel.

Krakow Adventures Day 2

2009-08-04T13:33:00.000-07:00

July 27 2009

I woke up hoping my luggage would arrive. I went down at 9:00 for breakfast. The hotel has a breakfast buffet full of cold meats, cheeses, fruit, the most delicious sliced tomatoes, and fresh bread. I decided to be bold and try something called a Viennese egg. Bad choice. It was like a soft boiled egg, only more runny and served in a cup instead of the shell. But I ate it anyway and pretended it was delicious, espeically since The Dad had decieded to copy me. And I don't think he was very impressed wither.

We walked to the Old Town and it was awesome. White a lot of the original buildings date back to the 1200 and 1300s, a lot of them have been remodelled in the Baroque style during the late 16th and 17th century.

The centre of the town is an old market square, surrounded by large Baroque town houses that are now posh restaurants and cafes. In one corner is the Church of St. Mary, and opposite that is the large Cloth Hall with the town square clock tower. The whole place has the feel of San Marco square in Venice.

We went inside the church of St. Mary and you can sure tell the difference between UK and Continental churches. The interior was completely painted. Dark blue ceilings dotted with thousands of gold stars, bright red and bright green everything covered in gold! Gold statues, gold decorations, and most importantly, a large gold triptych of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary at the apse alter.

Next we went on a city tour by electric golf buggy. These appear to be very popular and people are constantly asking you if you would like a city tour in them. The buggy drove us all over to the main tourist focal points and an English recording told us all the facts and dates of each one. Then we walked around looking for a place for lunch, but all the places we found were cafes that only serves drinks and snacks. Because it seems like everyone just sits around drinking cocktails! We finally found this one place that was connected to a hotel, and OH MY GOD, the portions were MASSIVE. Luckily I decided to share a plate with The Mom because what came out was the size of a plate. I also ordered a beer, and it too was massive.

It came out in a large 2 pint stein! So well watered and well fed, we went on to hotel. It was 5 by this time and I wanted to buy some more clothes since my luggage STILL hadn't arrived and I was getting smelly walking around in all the glorious, sun drenched heat. Off to the mall again! I got back by 7 and took a nap. At 8 we went to check out the jacuzzi and sauna. I couldn't use the jacuzzi because of all the chemicals in it, but made use of the sauna. We left to eat at 9:30. Since we were still pretty full from our massive lunch, we only ordered a starter and dessert. I got a salad with olives, sundried tomatoes, and cheese and it was one of the best salads I've ever had! No wonder the place was recommended in the Michelin guide. For dessert, I went for the blueberry mouse which was very interesting. More like a whipped cheese with blueberry filling. We finished up around 11:30 and then headed to bed.

Krakow Advenuture Day 1

2009-08-03T06:43:00.000-07:00

I had to work on Saturday the 25th. After, I came home and packed, and My Honey and I left for Dunfermline to stay with his parents. This holiday was his parents' treat, so all accommodation, food, and even some fun money was included. I know, I know, SO spoiled!

July 26 2009
I woke up at 4:30 am to get ready, and we left the house at 5:50 to make it to the airport by 6:20, our check in time. We arrived in Krakow at 11:30 local time, but hmmm...NO LUGGAGE! Apparently bloody Easy Jet lost 138 cases (aka didn't even bother loading them on the plane), so I was somewhat stranded. Luckily, EasyJet also messed up the baggage identification tags, so even though my case was missing, the luggage tag was for My Honey's mom's bag. This was good because she and The Dad had travellers insurance and were allotted £100 lbs for the first day, £100 for the second, and £1,500 after that. In other words, I had £100 to spend on new clothes and accessories and toiletries. So even though my bag didn't arrive, I got to go shopping, and I was in luck because a massive mall was located just a quick 7 minute walk away from the hotel.

Well, after arriving at the hotel with no luggage, My Honey and I went downstairs to the Hotel restaurant/bar. The hotel was POSH. The Dad claimed it was a 4 star. Timber ceilings, tapestried chairs, fancy rugs, and velvet couches, all newly refurbished to resemble the elegance it had back in the 17th century.

Our hotel room

Our bathroom was beautiful, with marble floor, bidet, and large bath, but no shower! There was a hand one connected to a hose that you could use to manually spray yourself off, but not a proper stand up one. This meant that plenty of times, an accidental turn of turn of the wrist caused a spray of rain to shoot out over the whole room, drenching the towels, floor, toilet, and anything else in the way. The hotel also featured a bar and restaurant and filled up the pavement outside with outdoor tables. We ordered Mojitos and I got a bowl of soup that was fabulous! It was just a simple broth with some noodles in it, but it was very flavourful. Then we went to the mall to buy things like toothbrushes, cream, socks and underwear. I figured that if my case didn't arrive tomorrow, I would have another £100 to go back to get clothes. Yes, it did make me a bit ill that I was in Krakow and that my first place to visit was the mall, but c'est la vie.

After our mall jaunt, it was time to explore the neighbourhood. The Mom was feeling very rough and spent the rest of the day in bed, so it was just The Dad, My Honey, and me. Wow, there were like 5,000 bars/cafes/alcohol shops!

My Honey and I left The Dad with a coffee at a small cafe where all the tables are made out of 1930 Singer Sewing machines!

We wandered around and then got some ice cream. The temperature there was like 87 degrees and very nice after all the cold, rubbish Scottish weather. We met up with The Dad at 7:45 for dinner since The Mom was still sick in bed. The three of us went to a very nice restaurant/bar. The restaurant was outside, the bar was inside. The bar walls were pitch black. The only lights came from some soft glowing red lights hanging from the ceiling, and from the candles lit on the tables. In the corner was a large ghoulish ghost/monster that looked like it was just emerging from the shadows to grab you. Very creepy, but very cool. I had the traditional Polish perogi (dumplings) filled with meat. What kind of meat? Just meat. And they were most delicious. Then we headed back to the hotel where My Honey and I took a bath and headed to bed.

and back!

2009-08-02T13:58:00.000-07:00

I just got back from an a wonderful 8 day trip to Krakow, Poland, and can I just say that I freaking LOVE that place? And not just because I'm cheap or an alkie (40% alcohol Vanilla Vodka that tastes like it was distilled from Angel tears for only £2.00 at the pub?!?!?! £5 a bottle?!?! Yes please!!!), but the whole place was wonderful. I suddenly discovered a part of me that I had never experience before- that of a shopaholic in a foreign country. The first day I was forced to buy almost a new wardorbe (more on that later), but from that point on, I couldn't stop myself. Was it that Polish clothes are awesome in an ecclectic but fashionale way? Or the fact that everything was not only cheap against the pound, but also ON SALE? I seriously had to force myself to stop buying clothes, vodka, jewlery and shoes because I just didn't have the packing space.

And the food...oh good lord, I have no idea how the majority of Polish girls are size 2 when the portions are so massive and dripping in lard...and so damn delicious.

I kept a 8 day diary of my life there which I will start recounting here later, but for a short recap-

1) Easy Jet epically fails

2) I am the MOST SPOILED person EVER

3) I gained 40lbs on this trip

4) Polish people rock

5)Vodka is my friend

6)Nazis....just...how...how?!?!

7) I can live for a week without e-mail or internet

8)My Honey and I attract water leaks flies to rotten meat

9)Krakow has a major love affair with Pope JP2

10) The idea that Poles want to live in the UK is mindboggling.

Stay tuned...

Tourists

2009-07-24T11:53:00.000-07:00

My dad took me on a two week excrusion to Paris and Amsterdam when I was 11 and I discovered two things about myself.

1) I love to travel

2) I've developed a very strong neurosis about looking like a tourist.

And it's debilitating to my travel experiences. I can't bring myself to take pictures of landmarks or scenery, I run around cities like a lost rabbit with ADHD because I have no idea where I'm, going and don't want to ask for help, or, god forbid, pull out a map. I don't even like opening my mouth at all, least anyone hear my accent and immediately shuffle off into the 'damn tourist' category. This means I have no pictures to show off when I come home and have to resort to stealing others' from google and pretending like they're mine.

A reason for all this is probably to do with where I grew up- pastoral NorCal, where people from the Bay Area would come up to go wine tasting, explore the Redwoods, and visit organic markets. They also dove far too slow on our windy roads, stopped to take pictures of trees/deer, sheep, and led wineries to start charging for tasting, so even though I grew up in a town economically supported by tourist dollars, I still believed that "if it's called 'tourist season', why can't we shoot 'em?"

This neurosis left me almost crippled when I moved Edinburgh because now I wasn't just a tourist, I lived there and sure as hell didn't want to be mistaken for some one just passing by. I quickly tried to adapt the accent, look like I walked with a purpose, and went shopping at all the British shops so that I looked like I fit in better. And I now get asked for directions by tourists on an almost weekly basis. Victory!

But given all that I hate about looking like a tourist, I am super happy to show off 'my town' to other visitors. Even though I want to slap those cameras out of people's hands as they take numerous photos of Grayfriar Bobby because they are blocking the pavement, I am also more than willing to walk a Continentaler 2 blocks out of my way to physically show her the street she's looking for.

I'm bringing all this up because I am leaving in less than 24 hours to board a plan to Krakow, Poland. And I am going to try my damn bestest to NOT let this tourist affliction ruin my holiday. I will try to belligerently stand in the middle of the street and go snap happy, even if it means forcing passerbys to manouver around me. I will wander around with a map in my hand, attempting to follow the 'Walk through the City' guides. And I will pop into shops, grab things off shelves, and throw money down, hoping it will be enough.

Or, I'll just meekly follow my boyfriend and his parents as they commit all the acts above, all the while pretending that I'm invisible.

Good morning, sunshine!

2009-07-20T01:34:00.000-07:00

'What time should we get up?' my Honey asked as we were bedding down for the night.

'Umm, probs around 8:30.'

'You think? '

'Yeah, I mean come on. It's Scotland, they're builders, I don't foresee them arriving anytime before 9:00 or after 4:00.

'Oh, okay.'

Which is why at precisely 8:00, we got a knock on our door and 7 various large, burly men all related to the building/construction profession filled up the tiny space the estate agent called a living room.

And I look a right state in the mornings.

Uggggggggggggggggggggggggggh.

Seriously, nothing is more appealing than emptying the bathroom of boxes of tampons, perfumes, and hair bands in an old tee shirt stolen for your boyfriend with Ron Jeremy's face staring out of it (he says he got in in the States when he was 15 because the liked the 'Keep on Trucking' slogan underneath the face) and knowing that you won't be able to pee for another 6 hours thanks to big, scary Scottish dudes ripping the walls of the bathroom.

Nope, still not attractive

2009-07-14T09:47:00.000-07:00

There's a popular hairstyle here that seems to only be attractive to the less salubrious denizens of Scotland. Namely the cretins who I see puking outside my flat at 10 in the morning, peeing in the alley behind my flat, and chugging White Lightening cider in the Meadows at 10:30 in the morning while screaming into their phone something completely incomprehensible. And apparently it has a name- the Undercut Pony.

You can't really see it in this shot, but basically you shave your WHOLE BOTTOM HALF of your head...because you hate the back of your head. I've seen plenty

of women with this look around my neighbourhood and I really really have no idea why they do it. Because in my book, it's not hardcore, impressive, cool, or wicked- it's retarded.

More animals run amok with their Anti-Social behaviour

2009-07-12T13:29:00.001-07:00

This time the culprit is a badger.

A badger in Germany got so drunk on over-ripe cherries it staggered into the middle of a road and refused to budge, police said on Wednesday.

A motorist called police near the central town of Goslar to report a dead badger on a road -- only for officers to turn up and discover the animal alive and well, but drunk.

Police discovered the nocturnal beast had eaten cherries from a nearby tree which had turned to alcohol and given the badger diarrhoea.

Laying in the middle on the road in a pile of your own liquid excrement and being mistaken for dead? Yep, sounds like my typical, drunken night out. This badger is obviously taking notes from the master. Now excuse me while I find my pants and scrap some of this shit out of hair. Sexy? I haz it.

Article

China getting them while they're young

2009-07-02T13:59:00.000-07:00

What the fuck?

Seriously?!?! Best parents ever. I bet this kid also goes home to a beer and foot rub by an Asian concubine.

Oh Shit

2009-06-30T11:53:00.000-07:00

Today at the Hospital, a woman ran up to my desk, looking very flustered, and asked "Is this where you do colonoscopies?"

"Yes," I replied, slightly taken back at the way she asked me. Most people prefer to ask if they are in the Day Bed department rather than blurt out to the world that they are around to be anally probed.

"Oh thank god."

So I checked her in, filled out our paperwork, and asked her to take a seat.

"Um, I can't do that right now. I crapped in the bus. I just came right out. I've been shitting since 10 this morning and thought I didn't have any more in me. And now I don't know what I'm going to do- I didn't even bring a spare pair of pants! Please say this is normal and that it happens to everyone. "

SERIOUSLY? You crapped your pants on the bus?!?! Quick, look adult, concerning, and sympathetic.

"Of course, it's very normal. The nurses are very vigilant, so you should be seen to very quickly."

And with that she waddled off to stand by the open window.

YES WE CAN!

2009-06-29T15:14:00.000-07:00

YES WE BLOODY CAN!

Holy flipping fatty cakes, batman!

2009-06-29T14:31:00.000-07:00

I've determined that I have bipolar body image issues. Half the time I am quite happy and comfortable in my body, the other half I feel like we are at war, and it just utterly disgusts me. After listening to me moan and berate myself for the past 4 years, my honey finally gently suggested that maybe I should try the gym. Not because I was fat or floppy, but because it would change the way I mentally think about myself.

But here's the thing with gyms: I'm petrified of them. Zonko tried numerous times to get me to go to the gym, and I even went with her on a one day try, but couldn't shake the feeling of oppression and claustrophobia. In fact, I came home and cried.

But after a birthday filled of eating cream filled cake (followed by my friend Alice's cinammon rolls), I was feeling pudgy. And since My Honey goes every Sunday, I figured that I would tag along.

Now, the gym My Honey goes to is a 20 minute walk from the flat, which to some might be considered a warm up, but to others like me, it was a bloody workout in itself. By the time we got there, I already had a raised heart rate and think film on sweat.

I braved the girls changing room all by myself, then went out into the main gym. Alone. My Honey was off doing weights. I found a cross trainer and jumped on. And started pushing buttons. Nothing. Blank screen and everything. I switched to another one. And kinda stood there pretending to undo the knots in my headphone cord while I watched and waited for someone else to ge on one of those bloody contraptions . Finally someone did and I watched how they started it up ( by moving...who'd a thunk?). And then I was off.

I did 20 minutes and burned off 150 calories, and then decieded to switch to the bike. My legs were kinda feeling jellyish, so I said I would only do 50 calories worth of cyling, but then figured I might as well do 100. But the kinda scary thing? The heart reate thingy said I had a bpm of 177. Constant. For both cross trainer and bike. 177 for a half hour solid. Is that bad? I am totally scared of my heart exploding now and shooting out of my chest onto the personal TV in front of me. But I didn't feel like I was dying or that my heart was about to explore, or that I had any breathing trouble whatsoever.

And then it was go home time. The gym closes at 5:30, and someone who isn't me likes to sleep in on the weekends until 2 or 3. Meaning by the time he's dressed and fed, it's 4 and we don't actually get out of the house until quarter past.

Apparently I didn't work out enough because I awoke this morning expecting to feel super sore. But the only thing sore was my ass from sitting on the bike- and I mean, my ass is really hurting...not the ass muscle, but whatever the hell part of it that sits on a bike seat.

So I survived. And am thinking of trying to boost it up to 2 days a week.

Oh, and including the trek back to the flat? Total of 435 calories burned, baby. That''s like a quarter of a slice of cake. Good think I ate 3 slices.

25 years gone by

2009-06-27T16:46:00.000-07:00

Whew, it feels like so much has gone on and it’s only Saturday!

1) I am the queen of friggen MacAwesome. MacAwesome desserts that is. My birthday was on Friday and because it’s in the summer and EVERYONE and their mom is working/sick/broken/on holiday, I decided to make the cake myself. And let’s just say I was inspired by the awesomness of Wimbledon. Because that’s actually a lie, but I like it better than the truth. The truth is that I have one friend who doesn’t like chocolate cake ( I know, right!?!), one friend who is obsessed with strawberries, and a my own personal desire to use up leftovers, which were, in this case, a can of coconut milk and half a bag of dried shredded coconut. Enter my idea to make a coconut and strawberry cream cake. After searching the internet for a freaking recipe that used coconut milk AND dried coconut, I finally foundthis. I followed it for the cake base recipe. Well, the cake looked great baking, but thanks for the 4 eggs, it settled down during the cooling period and started to resemble a dense, macaroonish like custardish pancake. No worries, right? Then I cut up almost a punnet of strawberries, lightly crushed them, threw in some sugar, and mixed it up with some good ol’ marscapone. Then I whipped up some heavy whipping cream, cut up more strawberries, and presto:

And it tasted pretty orgasmic too! The cake was actually very moist and coconutty and complimented the fresh straberries more than a teen age boy trying to get laid for the first time by the girl next door.

2) My overall birthday was fab too. All but one friend managed to make it (she was foiled by hayfeaver, of all excuses), and it was good to get everyone together again, especially since 4 of us all lived together 5 years ago and haven’t all been together in a few years. And I got some fabulous swag too! A wonderful new handbag, a super amazing mug that holds like 2 cups of coffee, incense, jewelery, and My Honey gave me an exquisite dress from Monsoon, a new pair of converse shoes, and a feather down pillow in the shape of a giant V from a local pillow shop. I also was incredibly spoiled by My Honey’s family, who gave me WAY more bank that I deserve.

Giggidy quarter centennial.

Stoned Wallabies Run Amok

2009-06-26T03:04:00.000-07:00

Love being stoned? Love crop circles? Then too bad you weren't born a wallaby.

Apparently, crop circles have mysteriously shown up in Tasmania. The culprit? Stoned wallabys jumping around in circles.

We have a problem with wallabies entering poppy fields, getting as high as
a kite and going around in circles," the state's top lawmaker Lara Giddings
told local media on Thursday.

"Then they crash. We see crop circles in the poppy industry from wallabies
that are high," she said.

This explains the real crops circles popping up in states like Kansas and Nebraska. Old MacDonald is really Old MacDrugpusher hiding his shit in the silo, and when the sheep accidentally get a taste, BAM. Instead of drugs raid, you get Mel Gibson running around trying to interprete the movements of jacked up livestock.

See article

Kush- for idiots.

2009-06-24T09:08:00.000-07:00

Whoa, who the hell was wrote that last post? Hmm, must have left the little lappy too close to the window and one of the crazy junkies had an emo moment and felt like sharing as opposed to just grabbing the thing to pay for their next hit.

So here is something completely different.

Because nothing says sexy like having a big o' giant pink rod cushioned between your chee chees. And it's so cheap, who they hell won't want one!?!?

Job history

2009-06-23T06:01:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about my employment situation, and I think that the reason I feel so insecure in the job market is because of how increasingly you job has come to define who you are as a person. Since I still don't have that idea of what my lifelong career is, it's almost as though I don't know how to define myself, and all of this has left me wanting to just hide inside and never emerge. And making me loathe all those friends I had back at university doing engineering or the sciences who now have jobs in those fields and are constantly referring to themselves and their behaviour as 'so like an engineer', or as 'such a chemist.'

So last night, as I was getting myself ready for bed, I got to wondering how things have changed that make us use our jobs as indicators for who we are. Certainly it wasn't always like this? And that got me to thinking about my grandma. Anyone who reads this (or has since the beginning) knows I have a love/hate relationship with my grandma. Love when I'm away, hate when I'm in physical proximity. But I also love history and grandma is a living piece of it.

Grandma just turned 93. She was born in 1916, meaning she lived, if not saw or remembered, World War One, the Great Depression, Women's Suffrage, World War Two, the Civil Rights movement, and the election of the first black president. And perceptions have certainly changed during the course of her life. Growing up, women didn't work the 9-5 (unless they were slaving away in mills and factories and dying of malnutrition, or trying to eek out a living as a secretary or shop assistant in a large urban city). Middle class women were mothers, wives, and fighting to get their vote to count as a people.
In 1934 my grandma went to university. Not to further her career, but just to learn because she was interested. She majored in History and Zoology,just for fun, and god knows what she actually learned because she has no idea what the mitochondria is or how its function in all cellular creatures is pertinent to life. I think she just memorised animal names and locations while studying how amazing America is. Regardless, it was obvious that university was what middle/upper middle class women participated in, but was in no way a stepping stone to a career. After uni, grandma continued to live at home and help out with the family, but it was 1938 and you can guess what was coming around the corner. When war hit, granny joined the Marines and was stationed out in the Mojave desert working as a meteorologist along side a whole phalanx of women. My grandma was an example of a change taking place in the US. Rosie the Riveter was born, and women were being called upon to work, to fill the positions originally occupied by men, and were getting a taste of what it was like to be heard and used for the knowledge they had and for what they could do. In fact, after the war, it seems as though the whole working mentality of the US changed. Xenophobia and the Red Scare had caused the US to turn inward, proclamations of 'Made in the USA' were announced from all the shops, and the American car industry boomed, with thousands of people taking to the interstates to 'see the USA in [their] Chevrolet's!'. The blue collar worker was looked to with respect, and there was pride to be had with any occupation.
After the war, my grandma went back to univeristy to do a masters in History. She never finished because she met my grandpa and chose marriage over a degree. I asked her about this a lot, and her response has always been that college was something that occupied her time, and that being a wife and eventually a mother would take up more time than being a student would. To her, the choice was an easy one since again, education was not a pathway to a job. She did work, however. For a few years, grandma worked in an accountancy firm helping people prepare their taxes and keeping track of finances. But ask my grandma what she was, and she will always say a Homemaker. Not a marine, not a financial consultant, but a wife and mother. Ask my grandpa (born 1908) and he labels himself a Czech American. Jobs were what you did to put dinner on the table, but now what defined you.
For my mom's generation, it seems as though work was a means to an end. In the beginning, at least. My mom has said that grandma used to try and pursuade her to be a secretary or waitress or teacher, but the children of flower power had other ideas, at least until the 80s where new innovations in technology and Reganeconomics encouraged a renewed fevor in business models. Slowly, our parents and now our generation are finding themselves defined by an occupation. We're workers. We wear suits, answer blackberrys, and organise spreadsheets.
And since I don't have a job, it's like I don't have an identity. Or at least one I want. I don't want to be defined as 'receptionist,' 'book fetcher', 'secretary,' or 'assisant'. And it's infuriating!
So which comes first? Will knowing who you are first without a job lead you to find a job that matches your perception of who you want to be, or do you find a job first that then shapes the way you percieve yourself?

Okay, enough blathering... MURRAY VICTORY IN WIMBLEDON! Come on!

Feel the burn

2009-06-22T14:42:00.000-07:00

For the past few weeks, there's been a whole lot of nothing going on. The job at the library is a lame 7.5 hours a WEEK, and in my free time, I've been fannying around. I mean, I did managed to apply for a few jobs, but then I find a new TV streaming site on line, and before you know it, I've seen all three seasons of 30 Rock in 3 days. Oops.

So I was pretty surprised when I got a call this morning at 9:30 from the temp agency. Had they found me a job? Sorta. The temp who took my job at the NHS (grrrrr) is going on holiday, so they phoned me up to be her replacement. Awesome. This means that I get to work 7:30-3:30 three days, and 7:30-8:30 two days next week. Not to mention I am scheduled for a Saturday shift.

I just went from a 7.5 hour work week to a 46.5 hour work week.

Thank jebus it's only a week. You'll find my smouldering corpse on Sunday glued between the bed and the duvet, and there is NO way I'm coming outof that bad boy before 10:00.

oops

2009-06-18T12:33:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not neglecting this, but there has been frack all going on in my life. I am still looking for more work to help out with my part time not-job, and getting more and more freaked out by the second as reports keep coming in that now places like MacDonald's is turning away staff. Eek.

Also, came down with piggy flu because I eat like an oinker (just a sinus cold), so I've been feeling drained and can't be bothered to troll the webz for things of interest.

Scottie and I did manage to get away. I was still only feeling about 77% alive, but with the help of my good friends Ibuprofen, I was up and out the door by 10 to take the train across to the Kingdom of Fife. Scottie and I picked up the Astra, and away we went! I had the wonderful idea that I wanted to wild camp for my birthday. Scotland has this 'free wandering' law (or lack of law) that allows hikers, hobos, hippies, brokebackers, and the like to wander across the land open access style, camping wherever they see fit (just as long as it's not on private land, and even then the details are sketch). I was hoping that me and a few pals could get away, find a desolate patch of land, pitch a few tents, light a fire, get a BBQ going, and not have to worry about 'lights out', being 'shushed' or whatev. Free and one with nature.

So way back in the day, when me an Blonde H went on our mini-tour of the Highlands, I spotted what looked like a desolate patch off the beaten path. It was a one track road that went past the town of Balquhidder, along two lochs, and ended in a camp site. Excellent, right? So Scottie and I went Northwards to scout it out. The drive was lovely and even though it was pissing it down when we left, it was actually sunny by the time we got to where we were going. And the result was an epic fail. Even though the road was one lane and in the middle of no where, there were thousands of homes (those damn nice big homes that look like they were stolen from fairy tales with their climbing roses and expansive gardens). So way too populated for camping. But at least we know! And the drive was really stunning.

We got back to the Kindom by half 6, got taken out for a meal from the Dad, and then I was off to slumber land. I am now feeling about 86% alive but have a horrible tickly cough and the constant sensation that a thick river of ooze is perpetually coating the back of my throat. TMI?

Life list

2009-06-12T04:10:00.001-07:00

For awhile now I've been meaning to jot down a list of all the things I want to do in life before I bite it. But then I procrastinate and the internal list just grows. Well, Beth over at Bros Before Hos made a list and it totally gave me a kick in the pants to just get on with it. So here goes:

List of Things To Do in Life

1) Be fluent in another language. At one time this was going to be French, but now I would be happy with anything.

2) Visit Peru/hike the Inca trail. Being obsessed with Peruvian archaeology, this is a must. Especially visits to the Chachapoya, Nazca, and Chavin regions.

3) Lean Intarsia. Okay, so a knitting reference slipped in, but intarsia is the use of 2 or more colours. And this prospect freaks me out.

4) Lean manual. Let me tell you, it SUCKS not being able to drive in the UK only because I don't know how to use the stick.

5) Write a novel. Doesn't have to be good, just something that has a beginning, middle, and end.

6) Own a feather duvet/pillows. These things are AMAZING! So warm! Must def. get one when I actually have a real house

7) Have a trellis of growing roses climbing up the sides of my house. Because when I do own a house one day, I'm gonna pimp it out like Snow White's cottage.

8)Cross country road trip. Totally didn't steal this from Beth, I DO really want to travel all around the country because damn- places like the Deep South, Montana, and North Dakota are seriously like visiting different countries, only stranger and more foreign.

9)Read A History of the Modern World. All 1,192 info filled pages of it. I know, after reading Lies My Teacher Told Me, it's hard to trust these text books, but having read a few chapters in HS, I remember it being much less bias than the standard books. Still totally Euro- centric, but once you keep in mind what to watch out for, it's quite informative.

10)Maintain and continue this list. Yeah, I know I've oftenly said "Oh, that's on my list!" but I totally don't remember about what half of those are. So watch this space!

Russian Mutants

2009-06-09T03:07:00.000-07:00

Why would it be awesome to be Russian? Because it's obvious the government is doing crazy shit to the vodka that is turning its citizens into Spidermen.

It's long, (8 mins?!?!) and they there is a lot of artys running scenes, scenes of 'hardcore(?)'buildings and fences, and perhaps something that might be a plot or so,but just ignore all that and focus on the anti-gravity skillz of mutants in action. If only this were shot with more cape and spandex suit actions...

Pole dancing, or Ninja Assassins?

2009-06-03T12:33:00.000-07:00

Say what you will about strippers, dancers, sex workers and the like, you have to admit that these women are amazing. They must be either secret sexy ninja assassins, Spiderman's illegitimate offspring (damn you Spidy!Why wasn't I one!??!), or Cirque du Soleil gravity magicians, because the human body and a pole just shouldn't fuse like that.

I should probably not have that second cupcake...

Quotes

2009-06-01T14:26:00.000-07:00

Best things I've heard so far this week:

"I don't know, he's kinda effeminate. But maybe that has something to do with his dad being a transvestite" - Friend describing her new boy friend.

"She's a f*ing bisexual!"
"Oh, that's so greedy!"
"I know! You're not allowed to have both! Straight or lesbo, but bi is just greedy!" -eavesdropping in a group of drunken 17 yr old girls in Princes Street Gardens sunning themselves.

Sweet Sun

2009-05-30T09:35:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those amazing days in Scotland made for just lounging about outside. Which is precicely what I did, and ended up with a pretty nice burn down the right side of my body.

I know, sunburned, in Scotland? Oh yeah. And we are scheduled for nice sunny weather until Monday.

The other thing I love about Edinburgh in the sun are the intersting characters who seep out of the woodworks. Nothing in comparrison to an average day in SF's Delores Park, but enough to keep me entertained.

Like the trio of gimps I saw today.
It was actually just the blue one, the yellow one, and the red one. Just walking down the street.

Very creepy.

There must have also been some sort of sporting match on as well today, because there was a gang of guys dressed in Jimmy Hats and Scotland Saltaire boxers walking down the street with a few guys in New Zealand rugby tops and towels.

I *heart* this city.

Just call me Mowglie

2009-05-27T11:10:00.000-07:00

Anyone ever take the Jungle Book to heart and wish that they really were raised by wild animals? Because that is so what happened to a child in Siberia.

"For five years, she was 'brought up' by several dogs and cats and had never been outside," a police statement said.
"The unwashed girl was dressed in filthy clothes, had the clear attributes of an animal and jumped at people," it said.

And the sweet headline of the article: 'Barking' Feral Girl 'Raised By Dogs'
Why? Because
"When carers leave the room, the girl jumps at the door and barks," the police said.

Awesome. Naturally, it happened in somewhere like Eastern Siberia, a place almost as exoticly romantic as the African jungle.

Stop the bad news!!

2009-05-27T05:07:00.000-07:00

In another turn of horrific events, my FAVOURITE radio station of all time, Sacramento's Alternative station KWOD is GONE. No more. Cancelled.

I am in shock. The only radio station to play awesome music has fallen to the crappy economy.

PLUS, in even more horrendous news, the douche bags who control the fate of California have voted to uphold Prop 8, meaning that my beloved state of CA is more tyrannical than the corn state of Iowa, the Church of Scotland, and the East Coast.

Nothing makes me more fuming mad than seeing basic rights be blatantly ignored, especially since Prop 8 seems to have turned into a war over semantics. Since we supposedly live in a country where ideas such of equality exist, I feel it is only fair that we get to vote on EVERYONE'S right to marry. Want marriage? Stand before a jury of you 'peers' and testify as to why your love is 'better' than anyone else's and why you deserve it more than anyone else.

I hope those who can't see how unconstitutional Prop 8 is get squashed by a horde of GAY ELEPHANTS before being attacked by a flock of GAY PENGUINS.

It's official

2009-05-27T04:15:00.000-07:00

The gods fricken hate me.

Today is my FIRST day of my NEW job, so NATURALLY.... I wake up with puffy, swollen eyes due to some crappy alergic reaction.

Excellent.

And because the UK fails in over the counter copious drugs, the best thing I could find was something for hay fever. I know it's supposed to do the same thing that Benedryl does, but damn it, it sure doesn't feel like anything is happening. I took the bloody pill 2 hours ago, and my eyes are still itchy and swollen.

I can't believe I'm sitting here dreaming about how awesome it would be to take 4 massive spoonfulls of Benedryl.

Even though this pill is supposed to be a one-a-day type thing, it's done nothing, so I'm taking another one with lunch. You haven't heard of anyone ODing on allergy pills, right? Right? I mean...it's just a little Clairatin...and I have to be at work in 4 hours!

Mind the urine

2009-05-26T08:53:00.001-07:00

One of the things you have to get used to living in a city like Edinburgh are the small winding closes, wynds, and back alley streets that connect the city to larger arteries of traffic. Another thing you have to get used to is the constant smell of urine, sick, and feces that these small, narrow walkways emit.

Today, on my way home from grocery shopping, I inturrupted a man relieving himself in the alley just besides my house. But at least he was sober enough to looked ashamed, apologize to me, and try to mumble out an excuse as to why he was urinating in public, at 4:00 in the afternoon in broad daylight as opposed to one of the many cafes, pubs, and bars that are no more than 200 meters from where he was standing.

But I can't be too judgemental, because, yes, I too am guilty of the occasional public pee. Shocking, I know, but true, and one more tick in the box of things I blame on my younger years. I can't think of any time I've needed to drop my trousers in the burgh, but I certainly have back in CA. Now, I never would opt to pee outside (apart from situations like camping), but there were many a frat party where using the facilities was near impossible. Either someone was sick in one, having sex in one, or had left it in such a disgusting state that you didn't even want to go 20 feet near it. I always had a method to my frat party public pee excrusion: casually leave the house (these were always located in the suburbs), act like I was mearly taking a casual walk, and then find someone's house that had a nice big garden, preferably one with lots of hedges or trees. If anyone had been out, I'm sure they would have assumed I was a burglar scoping out my next target. Then, when I hoped no one was looking, I would duck into the shadows and try to either blend into the foliage or creep far enough away from the road to be seen. Once, this was literally in someone's back yard, and thank goodness they didn't have motion sensors or dogs. Then, like a lady, I would quickly find a spot on a nice patch of ground (not the sidewalk, a wall, or walkway) and do the deed before they owners of the premise sensed something was up. Normally not the case at 2 in the morning, but you never know.

And every time I had to slink away to find a little patch to pee, I was never more jealous of the guys and how easy they had it.

Something in the Air

2009-05-20T13:11:00.001-07:00

There must be something in the air...or water, or American food these days, because it suddenly seems like everyone I know is either married or engaged (btw, happy anniversary Kiki!). See what I mean!?!?

As with most things, it all started with Facebook. I couldn't help but notice that a lot of my friends' statuses were proclaiming "[insert name] is the happiest person EVER", "OMG, two weeks before the wedding!", " [insert name] loves [insert name]!! Thank you for making me the happiest person ever!!!"

So naturally, curious me decided to do a tally. Bad idea. I discovered that 23 of my friends are either married or engaged, and out of them, 4 of them have BABIES! One with twins, and one with 2 already. DUDE! And I'm a month shy of turning 25. And I KNOW PEOPLE WITH MARRIED LIVES AND BABIES! 23 of them and counting!

I guess I'm still mentally in the 'but we were just in High School, like, a year ago!' mindset and totally don't feel as 'grown up' as the rest of my classmates seem to be. I mean, I just finished school a year ago, My Honey is about to go back to school, and at the moment, I am working a very part time job and making nothing while paying off my student loan with imaginary money. Marriage? Kids? Ummm, can I haz job first?

I know I constantly compare myself a lot to everything under the sun, but I have to say, nothing quite makes me feel like I'm light years behind everyone else than seeing the kids I went to High School with getting all hitched and having proper jobs and lives. Did I miss something? Was there a 'growing up' fast track course that everyone and their mom took while I was pissing away my early 20s ( oh god, can't believe I wrote that...I'm almost no longer an early 20something) drinking pints in pubs? I even have a few friend who have put down DOWN PAYMENTS on homes!

But as much as I whinge about how jealous I am that they are all grown up (and yes, in my head the image of grown up I have is the same I had with I was 7 yrs old, playing dress up, writing cheques, wearing my mom's lipstick and pretending to smoke pretzel sticks and drinking juice pinky up), I am FREAKING SCARED to let it happen to me. Because being 'grown up' is also synonymous with 'old' and 'having responsibilities' and I think I'll try to post pone some of those until I'm at least 30.

Induction Day

2009-05-19T09:45:00.001-07:00

Today was my first day of 'trainig' for my new job at the NLS. I showed up at 9:30, ready to start off the day...filling out countless forms. Seriously, they make you sign your name on EVERYTHING. Sign to get paid (yes please!) sign to say they've given you the Employee Conduct Handbook (ugh), sign to say you've recieved the Internet Conduct Book (super ugh), sign to say you're read the Internet Conduct book(really?) sign to say you are okay with them adding you to the directory, sign , sign, everywhere a sign.

Then on to meet the 'team'. We were shuffled from one line manager to the next. This is how you use the library catalouge ( Umm...MSc grad here, we did this is Research and Methodology...AND in the school of Common Sense). This is how you enter information into the computer, and on and on and on. 80% of it was worthless. Just being talked at for an hour at a time about very obvious stuff and then watching while someone pressed a few keys on the computer. We easily could have condensed the whole day into half a day, and SOMEHOW we have 4 more days of this. Tomorrow I have to be there at 9 to learn how to use Google to search for books and journals. Seriously? And it will take an hour?

But I guess I'm getting paid, so now worries. And it's funny to hear them complain about stuff- "Oh, this place is a complete mess of organised chaos" -Lady, after working at the NHS and their disorganised super chaos, your world is a sanctuary. "Can you believe this lady sent in an enquiry at 8:23 and wrote 'Have a nice weekend'? As if she was expecting a reply before Sunday? Ha"- Dude, she was being nice. It's not like she was a cancer patient whose referal and notes had gone missing, causing her to wait another 6 months for a colonoscopy!

But I am DEF going to get another job to supplement this. Apparently this is a 'student job', aka, everyone who works the part time shift (aka ME) ONLY comes in a few nights from 4:45-8:30, and from 9-1 two Saturdays a month so that they can have the days free for uni. So basically I have ALL DAY. The one thing the induction failed to address was hours worked. I don't know what the schedule looks like, and won't for at least a week. But once it's availible, I'll *gulp* see about going back to the NHS.

On another completely nerdy note, we get magnetic name badges to wear. Totally feel like I have a communicator badge on from Star Trek (TNG baby!) . I keep wanting to touch it and say 'Shady to the Bridge'.

Niagra at Midnight

2009-05-18T03:42:00.000-07:00

Friday night, My Honey didn't come home from work until 9:00pm, and since I had waited to eat dinner with him, he treated me to a delicious Sushi dinner (I had been munching on Cinnamon buns all day and wasn't very hungry anyway). We got home a little after ten and settled into a food coma, content to just surf the interwebs until sleepy time pulled us down into the soft covers of bedfordshire. However, just after 12, we heard a MASSIVE bang that shook our flat, followed by what sounded like a mini Niagra falls. At first we thought it was our washinging machine, which had shaken the most, but an inspection of that found it dry and empty. So we followed the water noise and saw threads of water streams bursting out like angry veins from under the bathroom sink.

We quickly turned off the power to the flat and called up The Dad to see where the main water valve was. We got the water shut off in time to have he downstairs neighbour pounding on our door asking if we were'having a bath.' We told him that we had shut off the water and that a pipe must of burst or something, but the poor guy was a bit shaken, having just had about 10 gallons of water dropped down in his flat below so late at night.

The next day was a bit like camping. We used what bottled water we had to make tea and wash our hands, and I tried my best to not think of pee or jobbies or how much I needed to use the toilet. The emergency plumber came at 11, and by 12 we had water! Apparently whatever idiot did the plumbing in the flat put the pipes in wrong so essentially instead of having the pipes connect and stay put togeher, the one pipe was just gently resting on top on the other with no actual connection. And the pressure just caused the pipe to separate where there should have been a join.

Yay for water adventures!

SO cinnamon bun weather

2009-05-15T10:33:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to find that the lovely sunshine which had graced Edinburgh for the past 4 days (not to mention the freezing accompanying winds of death) had departed (the sun, not the wind) leaving the sky a murky grey colour with the smell of rain hot on its heels. As anyone from a forest in Northern California can tell you, you can definitely smell impending rain, and this morning stunk of it. The best cure? Hot, fresh, homemade Cinnamon buns! I quickly got to the store before the rains came. After burning off breakfast by mixing and rolling out the dough by hand (because bread machines are for pussys), I had these diabetes inducing beauties

After about 20 mins (okay, at 20 mins they were brown on the outside....but totally uncooked inside as I soon found out, so I popped them back in for another 15 mins on low heat to slowly cook them without overcooking the outside) I had these babies that were done just as the heavy rains hit:

I didn't frost them for the pics, but I made a delicious cream cheese (can you tell it's my favourite?) vanilla frosting that wasn't too sweet because holy crap, this recipe calls for a buttload of sugar.

Super delicious! And perfect to accompany the rains of death, arctic winds, and a hot cup of tea.

Last of Eurovision

2009-05-15T03:42:00.000-07:00

Well, if Tuesday's Eurovions was bland, last nights was ROCKING! THIS is the Eurovision as I remember.

My favourites:
Greece- because this guy is taking himself SERIOUSLY. As in he is seriously hardcore about winning Eurovison.

Also, Hungary.

Oh Hungary, major WTF?!?! Watch where the dude's head is loacated...peerve.

Honerable mentions are Ukraine for the stripper in a hamster cage, Netherlands for killing the most mirrorballs for suits, and Albanie for featureing a creepy green gimp.

As you can see, these performances were VOTED on by the home countries and are the 'best acts' they had. Says something for their skeezy nightclubs, eh?

Also..

2009-05-14T10:56:00.000-07:00

...while we're on the topic of food, here are some pic's I've been meaning to put up of the Chocolate Sauerkraut cake I made 2 weeks ago.

I'm not sure if it was the Sauerkraut or what, but this baby stayed SUPER moist, and was by far the best cake I've ever made from scratch.

From Food

I played around with the frosting by making one up- half tub of lite cream cheese, one tub marscapone, some powdered sugar and cocoa to taste and voila. Done. And Delicious!c

They make books about this?

2009-05-14T10:17:00.001-07:00

My friend Kiki over at Make My Funk did a great post about cooking. The funny thing is that I had planned on doing one on the same subject as well, only I was too busy getting ingredients to write one until now. After she beat me to it. However, hers was all about learning how to cook- something I feel everyone should learn how to do .

Mine is on discovering cooking sources. Despite writing an 80pg dissertation on cookery books, I have never used them. I don't know why- I suppose following a recipe feeds into the feeling of homogeny, statically doing what I'm told, and recalls images of Communist Russian architecture to my mind- boring, bland, and docile.

I thinkI take after my mom and dad's style of cooking rather than my grandma's. My grandma is an absolute slave to the cook book and can't even make a dish without following a recipe to the letter.

But recently I've been getting bored with my meals and even though I think I can cook pretty decently with the random stuff we have laying around the kitchen, I acknowledge that I fail when it comes to just 'creating' a meal without a predetermined idea. If I feel like having chicken, I only really know how to make (a freaking amazing!) roast chicken, or chicken fillets, which I then put on baguettes to make (freaking delicious) sandwiches or salads. Recently, I've been obsessed with Thai and Vietnamese spices and flavours, so I've done my fair share of creating Vietnamese salads, prawn rolls, and Thai beef going by taste and trial and error. And those have been pretty amazing too.

But recently I was over at a friend's house and we were making dinner for the family. And like my grandma, my friend is pretty useless with out the aid of a cook book. The meal we made was fantastic and got me thinking about getting a few of these cookery books for myself.

What we had was chicken. Chicken rolled in brown sugar. Then cooked (she pan fried it, but I grilled it) . Then we made a Vietnamese sauce for it that I had never heard of before- green chilies, shallots, fish sauce, lime juice, coriander, and sugar. Freaking amazing! Most of the dressings I used to make were rice vinegar based rather than lime juice.

So now I'm rethinking cook books, but still holding onto my rebellious edge. I want to redo that chicken recipe, but use beef instead and omit the cumin. I'm realising that cook books have a lot more in them than I thought, and I can always just steal the ideas and amend them to fit my cause. I don't need to feel like every dish I make needs to be 'uniquely mine' because there's nothing wrong with following a recipe every now and then. Even though the odds of ever following one to the letter is still pretty slim.

To elucidate

2009-05-13T13:36:00.000-07:00

To really grasp the full power of Eurovision theatricality, here is a little look at years past (okay, only last year) and the sheer WTF performances that made me so giddy.

Latvia:

Spain:

Bosnia-Herzegovina

Enjoy

The best part of Spring..

2009-05-13T03:04:00.000-07:00

is EUROVISION!

I am obsessed with this. I never knew what Eurovision was until last year ( I know, how did something so amazing escape me for so long?!?) but when I saw it, I was hooked.

For those in not Europe, Eurovision is a 'singing' competition where all the European Nations (and some I didn't even know were considered Europe, such as Israel, Turkey, Russia and Andorra(?)). They try to flog it as the 'best singers in Europe competing' but really, it's all a big jokey cheese fest. Last year, Ireland's entry was a singing turkey (puppet) who just took the piss out of the whole competition. Countries like the UK, France, Germany, and Spain, and the Hosting Country automatically get put in the final because they fund the whole project. And since you're not allowed to vote for your own country, you see a lot of political voting- Iceland always votes for Denmark, Finland always votes for Norway, and no one ever votes for the UK. Probably because we never really consider ourselves 'European'.

But voting aside, the real meat comes from the 'I can't believe what I'm seeing/hearing' performances, which sadly, this year are few. At least from the first semi-final. Here are the best I could find

and I actually quite liked Armenia's but they don't have a good video up yet.

FINALLY!

2009-05-11T13:32:00.000-07:00

Yes, FINALLY, after cockteasing bouts of sun, rain, sun, rain over the duration of the day for days on end, the sun finally came out and stayed out. And it was HEAVENLY! I went for a walk to return my library book, then over to the Meadows to lay out in the sun and take it in.

And I felt like a wee fairy! The blossoms that had graced the Meadow paths earlier were loosening up and with every (cold) breeze ( and holy hell there were a LOT of them), I got showered upon by hundreds of pink and white petals. It would have been very romantic if I weren't by myself.

It seems like all the students still around the city were also taking advantage of the sun because they Meadows was teeming with them, playing music, sports, drinking, laughing, and just stocking up of vitamin D. The forecast says it will stay the same for tomorrow as well, so fingers crossed, I'll be having another (solo) picnic in the sun.

Divorce

2009-05-11T03:57:00.001-07:00

That's right- this blog is getting divorced...or, you can think of it as undergoing mitosis, which is probably a more apt description.

I've noticed that I can't help but write a lot lately about my knitting experiences...and this I know is boring for the majority of you. Therefore, as of TODAY, there will be NO MORE KNITTING speak on this blog. None. Knitting, I cast you off! (ooh, bad knitting pun...shame, shame!)

Instead, my knitting adventures will feature here. Anyone interested is more than welcome to join me there to read all about my yarn addiction. But this one will remain for more pedestrian intersts- rants at stupid people, comments on idiotic fashions, and the odd article on bizzare animals/people/events/etc.

So there we have it. The knitting speak is GONE, having evolved into its own entity and broken off from the mother Blog.

Get into the Groove

2009-05-10T03:48:00.000-07:00

Last night Scottie and I went out. We don't go out very often because most of the time it's too cold, I don't feel pretty enough, or we just at a big ass meal and are confined to slouch on our couch in a digestive coma. But last night we were both feeling antsy. I wanted to take him to a place just around the corner called The Chanter. Despite living here for around 3 years, it's a place neither of us had been in, and I first discovered it with Blonde H on her birthday when the Brothers dropped us off there. Very studenty atmosphere, cheap booze, and decent music. We had originally just gone for one pint so I watch Bring Back Star Trek with Justin Lee Collins (geek, I know), but we were having a good time, some one quickly turned to two. After racing home to use the toilets (because why use the public bar ones when your own are just as far away?) we decided to keep the party going at Whistle Binkys.

Scottie Loves Whistle Binkys because he <3s live music. So off we went. That night, the performing band played covers of Rock- Led Zepplin, Guns n Roses, Metallica, and the most interesting thing I saw was the group f people totally digging it.

There was the Lil' Old Librarian- salt and pepper hair curled back into a conservative bun, thin, lithe frame hidden beneath a home knit sweater 8 times too big for her, little glasses perched on her nose, swaying by herself in a desperate attempt to keep time to the beat of Breaking the Law.

There were the Leather Clad Suaves- men in their 50s donning the leather jackets, slicked back hair and shiny shoes, violently playing air drums and bashing their heads around like an angry wasp had flown through their ear and was playing havoc with with brain.

There were also the Moms- middle aged women who looked like they could be anyone's mother, sashaying around in long, brightly coloured skirts and tee shirts looking like they were having a girly night out with other mums on the PTA board.

And all of them were hardcore loving the Rock vibe. Rock on.

DEATH

2009-05-09T12:36:00.000-07:00

Dude- hand winding 440 yrd hanks of lace weight wool is a bitch. I would NEVER wish this upon anyone. Expect maybe my boss at the NHS....and the bastardos at Bailey Gifford.

One down, 3 more to go.

Getting Hands On

2009-05-09T09:10:00.000-07:00

I really don't want this blog to turn into a knitting blog, because I think that will be very boring for everyone who reads it and doesn't knit (read: just about everyone), but so far, knitting is the only thing I'm doing with my life these days while I wait for the paper work to do through so I can start my Library position.

Today was a knitting adventure quest failure.

I woke up in the morning as I always do, switched on the ol' lappy, and sat down with a cup of coffee to peruse through the new blogs that had appeared on my Google Reader, and saw that one was from one of my favourite wirter/knitters, Viridian Flare had started on a sweater that I'd had queued for ages. I would like to say that great minds obviously think alike. The only thing holding me back from casting it on was that 1) I didn't have the yarn for it and 2) it was a pattern that cost money. And I hadn't quite brung myself to accept that I was at the point of knitting desperation that I needed to start buying patterns. That is until I noticed on Ravelry that the pattern for the sweater is also given for a LACE weight yarn...just like the 16000 yards of forest green lace weight Gloss yarn mi madre had sent over for Easter.

Jesus had spoken and his words were 'spend money you don't have on your addiction.' Yes, Sir!

Now the next problem was finding somewhere with a yarn winder so that the 4 hanks of lace weight yarn could become sexy balls of untangled lace weight yarn. And it was here that Jesus started fecking with my soul.

I figured that boutique knit shop, which SELLS HANKS OF UNWOUND YARN would have one. Negative. And after asking the nice lady behind the counter, I was informed that NO WHERE IN EDINBURGH has a yarn winder I could use. Merde. So instead I gave into my disappointment by spending 10 quid on two pairs of Addi needles. Bad, bad, bad!

So having failed at finding a yarn winder, I guess I'll have to muck in and do it the hard way- by hand, giving myself self-induced carpal tunnel. Stupid projects, why can't they just be easy, straight-forward, and force me to SAVE money rather than spend it all?

EDIT:Expired

2009-05-08T14:33:00.000-07:00

Yeah, you can add

-Can of Koppaburg Pear Cider; expired August 2007

to the list of expired items I've consumed this week.

Afghanistan's only pig quarantined in flu fear | U.S. | Reuters

2009-05-08T09:03:00.000-07:00

<cite>Afghanistan's only pig quarantined in flu fear | U.S. | Reuters</cite>: "

Afghanistan's only pig quarantined in flu fear

KABUL (Reuters) - Afghanistan's only known pig has been locked in a room, away from visitors to Kabul zoo where it normally grazes beside deer and goats, because people are worried it could infect them with the virus popularly known as swine flu.

The pig is a curiosity in Muslim Afghanistan, where pork and pig products are illegal because they are considered irreligious, and has been in quarantine since Sunday after visitors expressed alarm it could spread the new flu strain.

That's right. Because pigs spontaneously bust out with the swine flu, just like the Human Torch can spontaneously burst out in flame. It's all an elaborate, evil plot by pigs everywhere to microbiologically wreck revenge upon the human population for eating them for so many years.

It runs in the family

2009-05-08T08:13:00.001-07:00

It's no secret that I'm known amongst my friends as being somewhat overtly frugal (not including when I'm around yarn). During my time at university, I was constantly heckled for the sometimes outrageous lenghts I would go in order to save a few dollars. Eating expired food was one, as was sustaining myself on beans on toast for few months, hitting up every and all events that advertised anything 'free' (India night? I see you have free Samosas...Discover Buddhism? Is that free tea?) I even camped outside a local 'Historic Day' event while I was supposed to be working just to snag a piece of free cake, and forced a bunch of friends to accompany me to a 'free food' event at our college, where all we had to do was sacrifice our dignity and self-respect by posing for cheesy photos and participating in 'ice breakers'. You mention free, and I am so there.

And while I get teased for this it's good to know that I'm not alone- apparently everyone on my grandma's side of the family is just as keen to save a few pennies.

Like my cousin. She is also an avid knitter and entered some of her projects in the local county Fair. My mom, speaking to her on the phone, dropped that she hadn't been to a fair to see a family contribution in ages, and might consider driving down (like 3 hours down) to see it. Cousin was quick to mention that the fair was costly (around $8 or so) to get into, and that rather than spend money on an entry ticket, my mom should do what she always did- go on Thursday, which is cookie day, and bring a large donation of home baked cookies. That way, you totally get to get in for free!

I, personally, see nothing wrong with this- I mean come on! Pay for fair entry with cookies? Brilliant. I'd do it. My mom, on the other hand, isn't exactly cut from the same domestic stock that we are- in fact, I can't even remember the last time she baked cookies that didn't come from a pre-made Philsbury package.

So at least I'm not alone in my world of hyper frugality and thrift. Rock on.

Expired

2009-05-07T10:33:00.001-07:00

I realise that I've been eating a lot of food lately that are long past their expired date. But to be fair, fresh food costs money, and I don't really have a lot of that at the moment, seeing as how I
~~stupidly ran away from~~ decided I needed a break in between jobs at the NHS and the NLS. This extra time, while giving me plenty of time to knit to my hearts content, has also left me to forage around in the dark abysses of the cupboard for edibles. So far I have found and consumed

Bag of popcorn, best used by August 2008
Bread, failing to notice until slice 3 that it was speckled with little blue dots of mould
Cheese, equally covered in mould, which I simple cut off before putting on the unknowingly mouldy bread
Tea, best used by October 2008
Bengal Lentil Mix from Trader Joe's that my mom sent across 2 years ago with an expiry date so faded, it's tough to tell it's for last year, this year, or 10 years in the future

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?

LIke a bee in spring

2009-05-05T02:54:00.000-07:00

Spring is here in the burgh! Spring is one of my favourite seasons because of les fleurs. And Edinburgh is chockablock full of them. On Sunday, Scottie's parents came over early, and while Scottie was away at the gym pumping iron, the 'rents and I headed off to the Edinburgh Botanical Gardens for an indulgent walk amongst the blooms. Because it was Spring, the garden was in full colour. The Meadows are also in full bloom, and there is nothing I love more than sitting out in the meadows, knitting under the sun, listening to the random Hippie guitarists, and watching the pink and white blooms float magically down in the breezes.Ahhhhhhhhhh. So that was this weekend- Knitting, reading, and sunning. It was a great way to relax after the hell that was last week. And even though I am not working just now, I am super busy with all the stuff I wanted to get finished but was too exhausted to do.
1) The Knitting- This will never end. But I am thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis close to finishing up the pieces for my hoodie, and I just need to get half a sleeve done and the hood before I can sew the thing up. Then I will have finished my first garment.
2) Birthday Knitting. I realised that I am one month away from a best mate's birthday, so the hoodie knitting is taking a wee rest while I pump out something. I'm not sure I like it though..more on that in June when 'll post the pics on Ravelry.
3) Reading. Normally I have been too tired to even come home, lay in bed, and read, but now that I am taking a working break, I can FINALLY indulge in the books I naughtily bought with my naught money(he he British play on words there) and even more naughitily bought more of today. Shame, shame!.
4) Cooking. I have been meaning to make this saurkarut chocolate cake for ages since I impulsively bought a massive jar of saurkarut for my 4 dinky hot dogs. And as delicious as saurkarut on toast is, the jar is taking up precious space in the mini fridge and needs to be consumed. Cake, you will be made.

Such a little miss home-maker!

Observations of Male/Female work ability

2009-05-01T10:54:00.000-07:00

There is definately a strong female pressance in our section of the NHS. In fact, now that Tom's been sacked, there are only 3 blokes in the whole opperation. Now, there is this stereotype of the female secretary, and little female office underling, but after a week back at the NHS, it's very clear to me why. We can do what men can't- multi-task at a high velocity.

I have several case studies on this.

1) While in the endoscopy secretary's office, I realised that I was witnessing her speak on the phone to an IT man to fix her computer while printing out 5 individual clinical lists for me. Doesn't sound impressive, but there is NO WAY my lovely Honey could have done the same thing. Heck, when he's on the phone, he has to leave the room in order to avoid any distractions. And if I try to tell him while he's on the phone to his mom that I want to speak to her after he's done, he waves his hand at me all annoyed-like, asks her to repeat whatever it was she said to him on the phone, and then afterwards, when he's hung up, says he doesn't remember me talking to him. Or, when he's researching something on the computer, he can't be interupted with anything- small talk, instructions, or advice. So in a good way, he's very focused on what he wants to get done and doesn't let himself get distracted- but there is no way he can balance more than one item on his plate.

2) Arron. Arron's work place title is the same as mine. In fact, I took over after him when he moved hospitals, but now he's being made to jump between hospitals to help give aid to the fact that they are so understaffed. At the Western, he does reception. And true to Male form, while he's very good at what he does, he can only to it one thing at a time. If he's on the phone, he is unable to log in patients. If he's phoning up a GP to get a referral, he is unable to make notes at the same time. I have the ability to negoiate with angry patients on the phone while cheerfully logging in arriving patients, and then turning around and printing up hospital labels for the next day's clinic with smooth, easy, translation.

3)Phil and Ross. These two have basically the same job, but at different hospitals. They enter patients onto the waiting list, organise who patient letters informing them of their upcoming appointments, and phone them up for verbal confirmation. But they are unable to even talk about their weekend or what they're doing on Holiday while working. They are either focused on work, silently giving their all to completing the task, or they are chatting away and not doing any work at all because they don't know how to do both at the same time.

Meanwhile, the females of the office are pulling out all the strings, talking on the phone while typing, mailing letters while giving appointments, and keeping abreast of all the work that's happening around them and of what needs to be done.

Multi-task skillz? Oh yeah, the XX genes has it.

Love/Hate relationship

2009-05-01T10:42:00.000-07:00

This week has been a whirl of emotions for me-

Monday: Still unemployed, sleeping in, and knitting like a bad ass
Tuesday: Happy to have employment, but feeling apprehensive about being thrown into the deep end with the sharks
Wednesday: Absolute hell. Tears, sobbing, see below.
Thursday: Determined to make the day better, Still stressful, but coping
Friday: Excellent. Praise poured from all angles, begging me to stay, quality banter, and actually enjoyed myself.

So there we are. Two days ago, I was rearing to go, about the throw in the towel, and say 'Good luck, sucker' as I stored out in a blaze of fire and angst. Now, I am actually considering going back to do part time work while also working at the Library. Crazy? Yeah, sounds like me.

But the thing is, I managed to SORT OUT EVERYTHING for next week. Get what we needed ahead of time, make the arrangements for notes to be delivered, and got it to the point where we're now back on track. Evil boss from hell who I totally still thinks hates me, gave me a shower of praise in front of everyone and said she would cry now that I'm going. All the secretaries <3 me, and I've made fast friends with the people I got placed to work with. I even opted to walk home (read: 1.25 hours away) with a colleague so we could just chat, and we ended with exchanged numbers, promises to keep in touch, and even have dinner over at each others'. So if I continued to work there, then I know that I will not be starved for company, and if they keep things as organised as I've made them, then the job itself should be relatively easy.

So I am actually thinking of going back.

Good idea? Bad idea? We'll see....

Oh what a difference a day makes

2009-04-29T09:33:00.000-07:00

Today was the kind of day that makes a nice person like me want to strangle kittens into wet, bloody pulps out of angst and anguish.
It started out with the bus. Despite being to the bus stop 5 minutes early, the bus itself was 5 minutes late. No biggie, my job is only a 10 minute ride away anyway. I should get there bang on time.

And yes, at exactly 8:30 am, I arrive at the Booking Office, ready to start the day.

You're Late.

First bloody words out of my supervisor's mouth.

What? Um, I start at 8:30, right? I mean...come on...I rely on public transport to get to work and made it BANG ON TIME.
You start work at 8:30, yes, and I expect you to arrive at work 10 minutes before you start. Now hurry along to Reception because you're late.

Um...Hold up here. Is this normal? I mean, in my previous jobs, as long as I was there on time or up to 7 minutes late, I was still considered ON TIME. So are you going to be PAYING me for my extra 10 minutes?

Thus, I hurry along to reception to fine that NO notes OR referrals have been pulled for the day or the following day. Jigga wha? It is ANOTHER person's job to get all the notes for the week, it is yet ANOTHER person's to get all the referrals. MY job is to sit at reception, log in patients, process paperwork, and make sure that the mail is properly distributed. Well not so much anymore.

One guy is off taking exams at uni, the other is coveting his wife or something, so it's me. I get the joy of doing 3 DIFFERENT people's jobs, all of which require me to be in 3 different places. And naturally, since I was thrown in the lurch, I have no idea where this stuff is. So I'm taking the inititiave, I'm looking up where these notes are supposed to be, tracking down who to call, and running around the Hospital like a monkey searching for a crack banana to get as many notes as I can. Oh yeah, while also checking in patients, doing paper work, and running out to meet the mail van to see what the other hospitals are sending over. Superwoman? Psh, not even she is as kick ass as I am.

However, all the running around meant I didn't get to eat lunch until 2:00. ALSO, it meant that the nurses were yelling at me and getting on my case because the notes for today weren't there. Even though that's not my job.

PLUS today was 'Take out your fustration on the Receptionist' day. I got about 50,000 phone calls from angry, disgruntled patients who had been trying to phone through to the booking office for the past two weeks to fingure out what the heck was happening with their appointment. Like me, whenever they tried to phone over, they were met with a busy tone. Or it rang out. So naturally, they decieded to phone me because I was where the procedure physically took place. But all I can do is transfer them back to the Booking Office. And when I tell them that, they say they give me 3 hours of complaining and explaining, and I have to sit there and try to get through to them that I am just as helpless as they are and can only transfer them over with the same number that they have. Out of all the the calls today, 4 of them have decieded to physically show up at the Booking Office and demand an appointment. I say, 'Good Luck'. The booking office is locked and hidden and full of angry wasps of retarded.

Solution: Go home, pour wine, drink, repeat.

Gig to the iggidy

2009-04-27T02:39:00.000-07:00

I have been bad. Bad, naughty, and very blog negligent. I would like the reason to be legit, but the fact of the matter is that I've come down with a bad case of knitting ADD and have spent every spare second thinking of MORE projects I could do instead of finishing the ones I have started. And of course, having no self control and buying impulse yarn does not help.

First of all, remember that last post, the one about potential jobs? Yeah. So here's the run down:

-Elizabeth Hunt and the temp job: A no go. After meeting with a very enthusiastic consultant who swore they had loads of jobs for someone of my experience, she then NEVER phoned me back, sent me the standard typing and IT tests or anything. It's like I'm dead to them. Oh well.

-The International Language School: Again, got the e-mail about how they still had places and wanted my CV back to look at, and then again, no word back. Nothing. So I am apparently dead to them too.

-The NHS: I had mentioned that I kick ass at the NHS, and apparently they thought so too because today at 9:00 I got a call saying they want me back. Unfortunately, it's at the Western, which I LOATHE (bad food, no Honey working next door, and boring banter) but it's a job. And it's a job I know and can do well. So it looks like I'll be back to work at the hospital for the next couple of week...I say next couple of weeks because...

-The NLS: remember how I tried to sneak in that I had an interview last Monday, but didn't really tell anyone about it because it epically failed? Yeah. Well apparently everyone else who interviewed failed more because I got a call on Wednesday saying 'We're offering you the job'. BOOFUCKINGYAH! I am SO stoked. This is the FIRST job I've gotten through an interview- normally I just fail the interview and get a letter saying 'thanks but no thanks' a few weeks later. So that is awesome. Also, it's a job I can go to IN JEANS! I have been DYING for the opportunity to NOT wear dressy work-attire, and as a reference assistant, all I have to do is show up and not look too scruffy. Also, the job is only a 10 minute walk from my flat, and is part time, so I will be able to help Scottie get organised for our move down South. Also, this job is an 8 month contract ending in November. This means that there will be some months were Scottie is down in London and I am up here, but his parents have already promised me that I can use the flat for as long as I like rent free. Again, BOOYAH! I have always secretly fantasied about what it would be like to have a place all to my own. Obviously I love my partner and don't want to be apart, but at the same time, we have very different tastes. And in my head, I would love to come home to a clean flat, get my jazz playing (or my alternative radio station from SacTown), light some candles, pour some wine, and knit/read. So now I will be able to.

So basically I am just waiting on the Disclosure form from the Scottish Government so I can work, and that has been rumoured to take 2-3 weeks. But luckily I have employment now for those week, so happy dances all around.

I only have to finish 1 and 1/2 sleeves and the hood of my jumper before I sew it all together and can say I have knit my first hoodie. I am halfway done with a cardigan I impulsively started with some super cheap acryllic yarn I got at a bargin store, but that felt like bamboo/cotton mix, and I <3 it. AND I am about 1/6th done with another lacy cardigan that I hope to finish sometime. Goal for all my projects: FINISH SOON because I have a birthday knit I have to get started on and finish by JUNE.

*crack that whip*

Death and Carnage at the Hospital

2009-04-21T11:14:00.001-07:00

It was my last day of work at the NHS today. Ahhhhhhhhh. Time to relax and look for more employment.

So naturally, I had to leave with a bang. Well, I personally didn't make one. But the driver of an NHS van certainly did, half an hour before go-home-time.

Outside the Booking Office, where my managers are stationed, is a taxi rink. It's also a drop off point for the NHS vans, containing medical supplies, notes, etc.

Apparently a little old lady was walking across the crosswalk when BAM, she is hit and run over by an NHS van. There was blood. And unfortunately for the poor little old lady (who uses a cane, for goodness sake!), the van was parked on top of her- so all the paramedics, the surgeons from A&E, the doctors near by- all the medical staff could do to help was try to talk to the poor old thing because they needed to wait for 2 fire engins to arrive to lift the van off her body.

Well, she must have gone into cardiac arrest, because as soon as the van was off, they started giving her CPR. No idea whether or not she died.

So you can look at it as 'how ironic that she gets hit at a hospital' or as 'well at least the hopsital was close by'. Or both.

Here's hoping for a flood

2009-04-21T10:34:00.000-07:00

They say that when it rains, it pours. It certainly seems as though that is the case just now.

You see, a week ago, I got a phone call from ASA asking me to fill in for a week holiday cover for another temp back at the NHS. They wanted me back because I was familiar with the duties. So back I went, desperate for anything that paid. And I KICKED ASS! The Endoscopy secretary at the Royal totally loved me and I saved a lot of ass. I tracked down ALL of the notes, referrals, and did all the mailing in only 4 short days. And not only helped her get caught up on over 2 weeks worth of backlogged pathology reports, but also set her a week ahead for patient procedure organisation.

So she said she would drop some hints that she would like me back since they are way super backlogged at the Booking Office. Awesome. Not a job, but a potential job.

Then while I was at work the other day, I get a phone call from a recruitment agency called Elizabeth Hunt. They want me. Want me want me. Unfort, they wanted me for a job that started today, aka my last day of NHS work, but they still were desperate for me to come in, fill out the paper work, and have a chat. The lady there said that she would phone back the place they had orignially wanted me to work for and see if they wanted me. And that no matter, they were definately going to get me working and fast. So that was VERY encouraging.

Oh yeah- I also had a job interview on Monday for a part time position at the NLS. This I unfortunately failed- I kept waiting for the oppertunity to gush about why I love the NLS, how I've had previous experience in libraries, that I have had rare book handling training, and that oh yeah- my dissertation was on 18th century cookery books. I TOTALLY fit in working for the National Library of Scotland. Unfortunately, I guess I should have mentioned that in the beginning when they asked me why I wanted to work for the NLS. Whoops. Epic fail.

THEN, yesterday I arrive home and check my e-mail to find that the good people at the International Language School, the ones I interviewed with for a position over the summer but didn't get, have some more open positions. They wanted to know if I was still interested and if they could put my CV forward.

So I got from NOTHING for 3 months to suddenly a flux of employment. Awesome. Here's hoping that things ACTUALLY pan out and I get hired. Because lord knows, I need to buy MORE YARN.

Rad to the power of Sick

2009-04-16T12:57:00.000-07:00

Well folks, the unthinkable has happened:

I GOT ANOTHER AWARD!!!!!

The fab E-Money over at BrosB4Hos has graciously bestowed me with

Wha hoooooooooooooooo! Big up thanks to my SF/Sac chica!

The instructions are as follows: 7 things you love followed by 7 tagged people.

1) Brand new fluffy duvets. Nothing beats snuggling up in something soft and warm
2) Knitting and all things related- yarn, needles, notions, the whole kit and kaboodle
3) All kinds of food, particularily, but definately not limited to, Pho, Cheese, Scotch eggs, Croque Monsieurs, clam chowder from a sourdough bread bowl, and beef ribs.
4) My mini-lappy. Bestest present ever, honey, thank you!
5) Being employed- unfortunately this doesn't happen too often for me, but damn I like knowing I'll be getting a paycheck!
6) The ability to drive. You really don't realise how much you miss it until you're in a country where everyone drives on the wrong side of the road and laughs at you because no one ever taught you how to use a stick. I curse you all!
7)Fires- not like the ones that destroy Southern Cali every year, but crackling wee ones in cozy fireplaces, merrily burning away on a cold winter night.

And since awards like these are like the herpes of the blogosphere:
1) Gabi at Out of the Pantry
2)Viridian Flare at the Endless Cast-On
3)Miss Em at ...pardon my English
4)Barbie at ...more than a blog
5)Sarah at Class and Coffee
6)Natalie at Natalie Plain and Tall
7)Erin and Julia at Buliding Luna

So rock on with your bad selves and keep on writing!

Yay for Yard Work

2009-04-16T09:18:00.000-07:00

Seen below is a video that will change your life. Before, I was a depressed, obese loser who hid inside all day watching Sally Jesse Raphel from the 80s, which only made me more depressed because even though those people had problems, at least they had face to face human interaction. I wish I knew what that was like.

But then this came on.

Now I am a happy, slim manual labourer who has sun cancer from working long hours in the sun for minimum wage.

What? You mean the video had a double meaning? Where did I put my pork pies?

Ugh

2009-04-14T11:34:00.000-07:00

After 3 months of NOTHING from any of my FOUR temp agencies, I finally got a break.

One week cover- back at the NHS.

Starting at 7:30 in the morning. I HAVE TO WAKE UP AT 5:45! Ugh. After such a long mini-break of getting to sleep in until 10, I now have to wake up with the birds.

Thank god it's only for a week.

Bed time.

Britain, you are OWNED

2009-04-12T03:05:00.001-07:00

51st State? American trends challenge British ways

I saw this article this morning on Yahoo. Apparently, someone finally noticed that the UK is essentially the US because the US has taken over commercially. The UK has embraced American fine dining such as McDonalds, Burger King,and KFC, wears clothes by Gap, American Apparel, and Anthropologie while drinking Starbucks and listening to Kelly Clarkson.

Personally, I think this is just another example of globalisation taking over. There are still plenty of things over here that are quintessentially British. What's happening is that America markets itself as a product, and the 'American Lifestyle' can be seen as easily attainable through American brands,trends, and pop culture. What does Britain export, aside from Twinnings and old Beatles music? Anyone in America know who Girls Aloud are, how to cook a delicious dish of Toad in the Hole, or somehow pull of wearing shorts in February? This is why I don't really count my move to the UK as that big of a transition. Culture shock would probably mean more if I had moved from CA to AK, but as it is, the only real differences I've seen between the two countries are just small annoyances. CA fail in public transport, but UK fails in selling Melatonin over the counter. The UK only sells Cheddar, and the US will let me die if I get mistaken for a deer and get shot because I don't have medical insurance or money to pay for a doctor.

But despite the fact that Britain is pretty much like a backwaters America, tell any Brit that and they'll threaten to knock your face off.

Warning: Gay virus spreads to Elephants!

2009-04-11T05:37:00.000-07:00

That's right! The evil, liberal media, the pink shirt industry, San Francisco, people who drive electric cars and whatever the hell ass-shats like Rush Limberg rail on about have struck again! This time, they have spread their dirty anti-American anti-God disease into the elephant population. And it's pissing off the Polish.

We didn't pay 37 million zlotys ($11 million) for the largest elephant house in
Europe to have a gay elephant live there," Michal Grzes, a conservative
councilor in the city of Poznan in western Poland, was quoted as saying.

"We were supposed to have a herd, but as Ninio prefers male friends over females how will he produce offspring?" said Grzes, who is from the right-wing opposition Law and Justice party.

The article

Dear Poland:
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? You just imported a bunch of wild animals who were otherwise happy wandering the plains of Africa and are now complaining because the wild animals don't conform to your idea of 'natural'. Here's a thought- elephants living in Poland is not natural. You're confining beings into cages that limit their mobility for the amusement of others and now you're whining because one little elephant likes to frolic with other male elephants. Wha wah. It's NATURE! You can't say that the little Elephant is gay because he didn't find Jesus because he's AN ELEPHANT. You can't blame it on his mom coddling him too much, the liberal media brainwashing him to be a sympathetic [insert anything Ann Coulter has ever said here], no- he's all natural, organic, and GAY. Suck on it!

Another British Fashion WTF

2009-04-09T09:26:00.001-07:00

Having dreamed about eating croque monsieurs for a few days now, I finally decided to take matters into my own hands and buy all the ingredients to make them myself. Then, having eaten four delicious ham and melty cheesy goodness sandwiches in the span of two days with minimal flat-leaving/excercise, I felt it was time that I at least get in a good walk.

I decided to romp around my old neighbourhood, Marchmont, because it's one area of Edinburgh that feels the most homey. Everyone has nice flower gardens in front, the blinds are always open so you can see everyone's tastefully furnished living room, and there is generally less noise, traffic, and filth laying around.

It's also where a lot of Edinburgh University students live, particularly the posh ones who always have to be seen in the cutting edge of fashion.

Like the chick I saw and followed today for about 3 blocks. Who was wearing pantaloons.

WTF?!?!

Then I noticed that yes, indeed, pantaloons, bloomer, circus shorts, or hareem pants, were for some unfathomable reason being sold in the High Street shops. This is not okay. What is it with this country and its desire to add girth to female hips? So not only are inverted tulip skirts all the rage, so too are apparently pirate pants.

I mean, come on TopShop, these here look like diapers! Who the hell wants to walk around in a pair of giant diapers with the crotch hanging 5 inches above their knees?

I swear, the girl I saw today was wearing a pair similar to the ones on the far left. But with more rouching on the side. WHY GIVE YOURSELF A MAJOR ASS? Major diaper ass, for that matter.

I have no idea if this 'style' is hot in America just now, but I hope to god it isn't.

Britain, I know you want to be fashionable. I know that British girls are polarized as either incredibly skinny sticks or packing some major junk the the trunk, and you think that these hareem pants will give sticks curves and hide curves on the rotund, but they don't. They just look ridiculous. And yes, they will make your ass look fat no matter what size you are.

MC Hammer would like his pants back now.

I see dead people

2009-04-09T06:41:00.000-07:00

My flat must be en route to a popular cemetery because I have seen multiple Hearses drive by on a daily basis.
These babies don't do that whole curtain in the windows thing- nope, you get what you see. A big ol' coffin sitting in the back with a guy in a top hat sitting behind the wheel. This whole notion of showing the whole world a coffin filled with your kinda fascinates me. I mean, I'm pretty sure that most the population, minding their own business and possibly thinking about butterflies, puppies, and ice cream will have to suppress a slight shudder and slightly more morbid thoughts upon seeing a big ol' Hearse roll by. So why subject that to other? Are you forcing innocent bystanders to stop and give pause for your dead [insert relation here]? For all we know, they were tax evading, abusive, alcoholic, drug users who died cheating on their partner in the bed of a child. Who knows?

But the process of a death processional and public displays of the dead are an ancient and common practice. Why? I know that in a lot of societies, public grieving, offerings, and sacrifices is seen as a sign of respect of the dead, their accomplishments in life, and to get on their good side in the event that the living need some supernatural help in the unforeseen future. But in these circumstances, it seems like the communities where these public displays take place are small, the dead was well known within the community, and therefore their death was something in did in someway affect everyone. But in large, Western cities, where no one really even knows their neighbour, are public displays of the dead still required?

I remember I was in downtown San Diego for St. Patricks one year and came across a large night-time funeral procession....I still don't know if it was real or what the hell it was. Basically, these dudes in antiquated black suits carried a simple black wooden coffin around the streets of the Gaslamp district while a large processional of people equally dressed in antiquated black garb followed CRYING THEIR EYES OUT, wailing, and looking very melancholy while some dude on a bodhran mournfully kept time. It was very strange and hard to go celebrate drunken debauchery after witnessing something like that.

Why? Why bring everyone's day down with something like that? Or maybe I'm just a much more inverted sufferer and don't really want to expose my grievances to the world.

The same day the Hearse was stopped in traffice in front of my flatwas also the same day a crinimal bus got stopped in front.
This big prison on wheels was longer than the one above and had about 8 little black windows set about 8 feet about ground, or basically eye-level with me in my flat. Suddenly, I heard all the loud thumping and bumping. It took me a sec to realise that the prisoners inside the bus could see me and were trying to break the windows down to get some attention. Some dude walking by gave the bus a wave, which caused even more raucous. I swear, it was more like there was a wild bear loose in there fighting with a baby triceratops. AND THEY WERE WATCHING ME!

Faint

2009-04-08T12:09:00.000-07:00

Another example of why the internet during unemployed times is dangerous: Purlescence.

Can I just say, I think I pee'd myself a bit scrolling though this site. And the bastards have a 'Wish List'. I wish I had it allllllllll. *Sigh*

Hi to the Larious

2009-04-07T09:35:00.000-07:00

There is a lot of good stuff out there on the interwebs. Luckily for me, I still have some friends in college (ugh, law school), who have enough time on their hands to find the cream of the crop for me so I don't have to waste my time on sites that pretend to be amazing, but then quickly turn god-awful. I'm looking at you, wwtdd.

This one is too good to not share. Particularly this entry. I don't know what blog etiquette is, but I figure that since I've cited the site and the post, I can go ahead and just repost the post here as a teaser.

WARNING: COPIOUS SWEARING. I try to keep most things clean here, but every now and then, something will slip. This site is totally not about that. So if you are offended by potty language or are under 15, do not under any circumstances read the following post below. Or be curious about it either. Because that's just as filthy.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

No.

Honestly, Axolotl, if you don't stop existing right now, I'm going to tear my eyes out and then eat them, in the hope that this would somehow be so traumatic that I would never have to think about you ever again. You might finally put the whole intelligent design argument to rest. (Does anyone really want to think about God doing acid?) On the other hand, I can't possibly think of an evolutionary reason for you to look so ridiculous, you amphibious motherfucker. Are you trying to blend into a Keith Haring painting?

Just because you have a weird looking smiley face where a normal face should be doesn't mean I'm gonna ignore the fact that you can't even metamorphosize your crazy ass. EPIC EVOLUTIONARY FAIL, AXOLOTL. Maybe you should think a little less about creeping people the fuck out and a little more about stimulating your thyroid. You probably make the best argument ever to stay out of the water. I'll take my quarter of the earth's surface, Axolotl, now leave me the fuck alone.

Check out more at http://fuckyoupenguin.blogspot.com
And a big "thanks" to A-Law for taking his time from law school to give me things to procrastinate with.

Turning diabetic, I think I'm turning diabetic, I really think so

2009-04-06T12:23:00.000-07:00

I know, diabetes isn't funny, don't joke about it. But holy hell, Easter is a GREAT time to be a British kid. The tradition over here is to give out chocolate eggs. And not puny little chocolate eggs, or chocolate eggs that taste like old cardboard, but proper, delicious, and sugar high inducing chocolate.

These bad boys are like a foot tall!

And POSH! These sweet eggs will set you back £8-20 depending on where you go.
It's said that Brits consume more sweets during this time of the month than any other. And damn do I believe that! Forget Halloween and Christmas, Easter is all about sweeties. Every sweet making company has their own Easter chocolate egg line: Cadbury's, Lindt, Smarties, Mars, Milky Bar, Kitkat, Nestle. In addition to copious chocolate eggs, you get loads of other Easter related sweets- Chocolate ducks, bunnies, lady bugs, lamb, flowers.

My Love and I received a two of the giant chocolate eggs from Thortons, such as the one above. These come with not only a giant ass chocolate egg, but a selection of truffles as well. Oh, and this was after I caved in and bought a half egg filled with truffles for My Love and me to share.

And this kicker- I don't really care that much for chocolate. Those girls who go ape sh*t for chocolate and get all moody if they don't have it and crave it all the time- yeah, so not me. It takes me about 4 minutes to eat one truffle, and I don't think I have ever eaten a whole candy bar in my life in one sitting. More often than not, I'll have a bit or two and forget about it for a day or so. Then have another bite.

My mom, on the other hand, squirrels chocolate away like she storing it for a chocolate famine in winter. When I was home, I stumbled upon two of her secret cashes, and every time we went into town, she had to buy another bar or box of chocolate.

So now we have more chocolate than is humanly possible for anyone to eat, especially for someone insouciant about it. However, on the other hand, I am crazy about not wasting things. So this chocolate is going to be eaten, one way or another. Even if I have to muck in and gorge myself every day. Because if that's what it takes to git 'er done, then so be it. Insulin, here I come.

2 much yarn+ 2 much time= recipe 4 disaster

2009-04-05T09:01:00.000-07:00

Everything was going fine- I was still soldiering through all the yarn I had bought in the US, happily making hats, scarves, and fingerless gloves for myself and my friends.

Then I get an e-mail from my mom saying that our cousin had been up to the house, they got to talking, she found out my cousin is one bad ass knitter, and told her of a website that sells yarn. And my mom awesomely decided that she would let me pick out whatever yarn I wanted and she would send it to me. Talk about kid in a candy and crack store.

Well, I have been meaning to attempt larger projects, and there's a hoodie in the Stitch n'Bitch book that I've been eyeing for some time. The only problem is that it called for beacoup de yarn, and it would actually cost more to buy the yarn than to buy a hoodie. Mix that with my incessant fear that I will totally f* up the hoodie so far beyond aid that I wasted all that money on yarn for noting more than a giant yarn ball of pain and destruction, and there you have it, the reason I've been cowering behind 2 day hats. But if someone else bought me yarn (and hey, it's from knitpicks so we're not talking about crazy $8 skeins of alpaca) then I wouldn't feel so bad about attempting a larger and potentially disastrous project.

Flip forward a few more days and I stumble upon this site that had Sublime Angora Merino for £1.99. No freaking way. So I caved in and bought 11 skeins- enough for a jumper and cheaper than actually buying a jumper. Sweet.

But then naturally I had to think about what kind of sweater to make....which inevitably led to me buying a £7.50 book on hoodies, cardigans, jumpers, and vests. I swear, I totally must now make EVERYTHING in there at least twice to justify buying that...

...which led me to thinking I need more yarn and how awesome a bargin the Angora Merino was....

I now have yarn coming out of my ears, and I am desperately trying NOT to buy Kim Hargreaves new book Breeze . Just to subject you to what I too could knit if I were anywhere marginally talented enough:First thing first- attempt hoodie #1. Step two-knit more

Fail? I think NOT

2009-04-03T09:02:00.001-07:00

This, according to Fail Blog is a baby failure. Umm, I THINK NOT! It's just good ol' common sense. Just like mom used to dole out to me. Which is possibly why I might still have strange desires to roll around in dust bunnies and soak up liquids with my forearms.

Another one down

2009-04-03T08:36:00.001-07:00

Another day, another Recruitment Agency crossed off the list...I honestly believe that I have signed up to EVERY temp agency in this city.

But I totally broke my typing record...

64 words per minute baby! BOOYAH!

And the temp agency signed me up for their 'stand by' list- meaning that I am supposed to be dressed and ready on stand by alert to work anywhere between 8 and 9 in the morning. And while I TOTALLY need whatever hours I can get, my body is SO not used to waking up before 9. Damn you, lack of jobs and your reinforcement of my laziness. But I plan on meeting it half way- while I plan to get up by 8 and get ready, I won't get all 'office apparelled' until I get the call. I hate falling into ruts like this where not having anything to get up for only depresses me and makes me want to stay in bed, but then waking up early for nothing only realise how much nothing I have to do...and you can only clean and re-clean the kitchen so many times in one day.

UC San Dedumbass

2009-04-01T14:49:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time, I graduated from one of the top universities in the US. Its faculty was known throughout the world, and it's students were told over and over again that they were among the brightest in the nation.

That is until today. When UCSD accidentally told 29,000 applicants that they were accepted- when in fact they had been rejected. Oops.

Now, I remember what waiting for college app results was like- akin to what I think getting tested for STDs would be like. You totally want to know, but then again, you really really don't just in case.

Well done, UCSD for bolstering hope and excitement for thousands of high school seniors, only to have to turn around and say, 'Just Kidding- you lose!'

At least I guess they can try and spin this as a cruel April Fools joke....Dumb asses.
Oops! UCSD Sends Acceptance E-mail to Wrong List | NBC San Diego

They burst forth from within!

2009-03-31T07:43:00.000-07:00

How much do babies love the feeling to clawing and biting their way out of the womb? A whole heck of a lot! Which is why the makers of Peekaru invented the this: a wearable pouch that your little minion can fit into so that you guys can re-create that scene from Alien whenever you want to.

Can you imagine walking down the street that that face staring our from your chest? Also works for dogs and midgets whom you have forced into cooperating with your sick fantasies of Siamese Twins.

Vanishing Clothes

2009-03-30T08:32:00.000-07:00

I've seen some pretty horrific British fashion in my time, but the 'WTF de Jour' at the moment seems to be the wearing of legging as pants or trousers.
I have now lost count of the amount of times girls have walked by our flat on their way to the ever classy Lava/Ignite wearing nothing but leggings, high heels, and a short shirt. As in the shirt does not hang past the hips, so that you are treated to a lot of leg...and in many cases, butt.

Even if you're Lindsay Lohan, wearing just leggings is a little too much. While I love pairing 'em with a long tunic dress, short skirt, or even really long shirt, so long as my ass is sufficiently covered, it's fine. But clearly I am in the minority here.

The other day I saw a girl who was about 5'3", 14 stone (196lbs) in Sainsburys wearing not legging, but black tights. And a shirt. The shirt covered her bum by about half an inch, and in the front, it only skimmed her va-j-j by about a quarter. SO NOT OKAY! Why would you do that? That is basically displaying your lady bits out there for all the world to gawk at.
In my perusing for images of ladies in leggings, I came across this site. I'm with ya dude! If only your wisdom was shared with the general Scottish populace.

To Twit to Who?

2009-03-28T15:31:00.000-07:00

I've been musing over Twitter these past few days. While I got a Twitter account ages ago because it seemed everyone was jumping on the bandwagon, I had no idea how to use it. 140 characters to say...what? In my head, it was just another Facebook status, and since everyone I knew was on Facebook, then how lame would you have to be to be on both?

Then I found out that celebrities were on Twitter and it open my eyes to another dimension of stalking. From reading The Superficial, I learned that apparently John Meyer Twitters like a crazy crack monkey, and that Ashton Kutcher just TwitPic'd Demi's bikini clad arse while on holiday. Why do you need to buy gossip mags when the celebs are laying out tidbits of their lives in 140 character blurbs ever 30 minutes?

And the sad thing is that we 'follow' them and get drawn even more into their lives than we already are and need to be. The other day I casually mentioned to a friend in Chicago that Stephen Fry is currently filming in South East Asia. "How the hell do you know that?" she asked, and I have to say, it was a little embarrassing to mumble out that I had read it on his Twitter.

But I think there are different levels of sad stalkage. While I may follow a few celebs (only Fry, Eddie Izzard who is SUPER boring, and Andy Murray), there are those who follow and try to force themselves into that persons life by replying to the Tweet. For instance, after Fry posts a TwitPic of, say, a monkey, about 70 people will reply with comments like 'Whoa, Fry, have you got a new pet?' or 'Aww, how cute. Now don't you go being a cheeky monkey'. I think this is retarded. If I were anywhere near famous and was actually doing something like working, I would definitely not be spending my time reading uninteresting comments that are attempting to bury their way into my life with their brown little noses.

That being said, I was almost one of them tonight. I know, hang head in shame. But Murray just won his first match in the Sony-Ericsson Open and is going out tonight to celebrate with court side seats to a Miami Heat game (STALKER). And I almost replied. Almost. I had hit the 'reply' button and had the blinking cursor in the little white square...but just couldn't do it. So I quickly just closed out of that tab and pretended that I was never there in the first place.

So while I love my Twitter updates telling me that Fry is rooting for Cambridge in the boat races today, I still don't really know what to do with the thing other than stalk other people more famous than me. This is made worse by the TwiterFox Mozilla application what lives in a corner of my browser and gives a little pop up evertime some celeb needs to tell me that they are going for a walk. And then that they were back from their walk. And that they are now going for sushi. And that they are going to sleep now. I'm looking at you, Izzard. Are there seriously people out there that give a damn and care? Oh, yeah, I guess me. Saddo.

To cookie or not to cookie

2009-03-26T12:54:00.000-07:00

This has been buzzing around the news for a while, so I thought I might as well weight in on it. Earlier this month, a primary school teacher confiscated a pupils' crisp bag because it was unhealthy. This then prompted a big hullabaloo over who should decided what to feed school children- parents or teachers.

I think the only papers who covered it were the Daily Mail and the Telegraph- not really the place you turn to for unbiased, legitimate news. And true to their tabloid form, they made sure to bulk up the quotes which called the school 'Guantanamo Bay', or the teachers 'Food Gestapo'.

Next, Channel 4 news ran a segment on it asking whether or not this was appropriate, with some wanting government intervention to keep these sweets away. I'm not sure about the rest of the UK, but the Scottish Government already passed legislation outlawing 'unhealthy' food to be served in school cafeterias, including all vending machines. However, there is no such legislation stating that parents cannot pack a candy bar or soda into their child's lunch box along with their meal. So it has now become a battle between who thinks what is best for the children.

Now, I am all for healthy eating, but personally, I think this has become WAY out of hand. As much as I love the UK, I can't help but feel that the government plays a wee bit too much of a determining factor in people's lives. While I am all for healthy initiative, such as the smoking ban that has made everyone's life better in cramped, dark pubs and clubs, snatching a child's soda away from a packed lunch their mom gave them is too much.

Although, there are very marked differences between how I was raised and Scottie. When my mom did have time to pack me a lunch, I always got crap. Carrot sticks, dried seaweed, soymilk boxes and peanut butter and wheatgerm sandwiches on whole grain bread. I was so envious of everyone who got the small crisp bag, the lunchables, and a soda. If I were a kid, my lunches would totally consist of all those things I didn't get to have. But since my mom packed my lunch, I had to eat what was in there or starve.

Scottie had a TOTALLY different upbringing. As a kid, he got a packed lunch and 25p to buy a milk. As he got older, the kids were allowed to LEAVE campus to buy food from any of the shops around the school. He told me that his diet used to consist of a chocolate milk (which apparently he became addicted to and HAD to have everyday), and then either a portion of chips and a chocolate bar, or a deep fried pizza, or crisps and a chocolate bar...you get the picture. Let a kid choose lunch in a convenience store or chippy, and obviously what do you think they'll pick?

I see a few ways the UK can cure this. Closed campuses for one. I never heard of a US school that wasn't a closed campus. Hell, everyone I met at SD thought I was lucky to NOT have a 8ft chain link fence around the school. If you're a kid and you're stuck on school grounds, you will have to eat what you have. Since schools are now supposed to serve only healthy meals, be happy with your lasagna, apple, salad and milk.

And for those who opt for packed lunches, packed by parents who load up the lunchbox with chocolate, crisps and sausage rolls, there's a way to make them not want to eat them: fear. Prey on their insecurities by constantly showing them pictures of obease people eating pie. Surround them with images of people too fat to get out of bed, who are suffering from painful bedsores, and can't function anymore. And then tell them it's because they ate chocolate in primary school. And pizza in secondary school. 12, 13, 14, 15 year old girls ( and probably guys too) are SUPER self-concious at that age! Get them while they're young! Tell them that if they drink that soda, they will never look like Miley, the Jonas brothers won't want to talk to them, and Zac Effron would totally laugh at their overhanging belly pooch.

Of course I'm not serious about all this (even thought it would totally work- or create a nation of aneroxics), but it's not more ridiciously than outlawing what parents can pack for their child to eat. If the parents want to frack up their kid's life, fine. Eventually the kid will hopefully learn (like Scottie did) that a roll filled with butter and chips is not a healthy sandwich.

I bet you totally don't want that second helping of ice cream now, do you?

Busted

2009-03-26T09:56:00.000-07:00

To make up for that last, self-pitying moan, here's something worth a cruel chuckle. Or maybe it's because I'm just evil like that.

Anyway, my living room window looks out onto a busy street, a bus stop, and one of the corporate offices for Bank of Scotland. Next to the bus stop is a parking bay- but only after 6:30. Otherwise, you are not under any circumstances allowed to park there. It's 5:00 just now and I saw someone drive up in a very flashy sliver porsche. Then Mr. Parking man walked by, took 3 pictures of the car, from every angle, AND a picture of the sign saying 'no parking' and slapped him a ticket. The owner of the car came back just in time to see the parking man walk around the corner. Hoo, but I love seeing people with more money than me getting slammed with little inconveniences like that.

Attack of Blerg

2009-03-26T09:18:00.000-07:00

I know everyone has one of those days when they just don't want to get out of bed. But for me, its seriously become a 'why even get out of bed- there's nothing to get up for' kind of depression. And I hate it. I wish wish wish I had something to get up for. Because waking up for something denotes a purpose, and at the moment, I have no purpose!

Every fracking day is the same: I get up when I force myself to, spend all day online looking for jobs, filling out applications, and sending off CVs and cover letters. Sometimes, the only time I leave the house is when Scottie gets home and we go out to buy groceries. Sad, super sad, I know. I have been trying to make use of the clear weather to get some walking and exercise in, but lately, the Arctic winds of death are driving invisible ice shrapnel into my blood stream, while a deluge of grit and dirt make a bee line for my eyes. At the moment, being outside walking about is so not the place I want to be.

Today was one of those days that I wish I just never left the house, much less my bed. In order to be somewhat productive and do something with my life that isn't moping around the house, I've been tossing around the idea of joining a gym. My friend Zonko has been getting on my case about it and said that it would at least perk me up and give me something to do. I'm not so sure about that perking up thing, because the last time I went with her to the gym I came home and had a emotional meltdown- talk about total endorphin fail- but at least she is right about it giving me something to do.

So today I had a meeting with someone from Virgin Active to get a tour of the gym there. Nice, I suppose, and the lady gave me a free pass to use tomorrow, so we shall see if I survive that, but then came the payment details. £46 off peak. WTF?!? Being unemployed as I am, I was really in hoping for something under 40 quid. I mean, it was a nice gym and all, but soooooooooo not worth £46. Especially since I wouldn't be able to attend any of the classes I was interested in.

After hicking it back from Virgin, I then left to trek over to the opposite side of Edinburgh to the Barcelo gym found in the Carlton Hotel. They had offered to give me a free 3 day pass starting next week, and are £37 a month. They are a very small gym, but have all the bits and bobs I suppose you would need. However, they only offer 6 or 12 month contracts. Since I may not be in Edinburgh in 6 months, I don't really want to commit to that. After treking back from the Carlton, I went on line to do some more job searching and found one for a cafe in Cannongate, posted on the 23rd. It said to drop in your CV, and because I'm desperate for a job, back across the city I went. To be told they had already filled the position. In less than 3 days.

This right here is a VERY SAD PANDA.So basically, today I walked a total of (and I totally just calculted it on Google Maps) 5.5 miles today FOR NOTHING. The job was a bust, the gyms as waaaaaaay too expensive for someone unemployed, and all the while, it was FREEZING, it was WINDY and after and hour of being camped out in front of the heater, I am still cold inside.

Bllllllllllllerrrrrrrrrrrrrg.

Spiderman still saving the day, this time in Thailand

2009-03-25T13:44:00.001-07:00

Once upon time, in Camp Counsellor training, we had to list two of our heroes; one living who we've met, and one that we hadn't. Most people said things like their mom or grandma, and then someone famous, like Woodrow Wilson or Michael Jordan. I didn't know anyone living to name, so I just made up something. I think I said a neighbour who had beat cancer. But my second hero was Spiderman. And I was laughed at.

But is Woodrow Wilson saving anyone's life today? Because Spiderman totally is!

That's right, Spiderman saved an 8-year old autistic boy yesterday who had climbed out onto the third-floor ledge of his school.

Despite teachers' efforts to beckon the boy inside, he refused to budge until his mother mentioned her son's love of superheroes, prompting fireman Sonchai Yoosabai to take a novel approach to the problem.

The rescuer dashed back to his fire station and made a quick change into a Spider-Man costume before returning to the boy, he said.

"I told him Spider-Man is here to rescue you, no monsters are going to attack you and I told him to walk slowly towards me as running could be dangerous," Somchai told local television.

The young boy immediately stood up and walked into his rescuer's arms, police said.

Take that, real life celebrities who teenagers might idol! How many autistic children have you saved? It just goes to show that only awesome people <3 Spiderman.

There Ain't No Devil, It's Just God When He's Drunk

Mooooooooooooooving

Home away from Home

Another reason to hate skinny chicks

Pho-Tastic!

WTF Jesus?

Sick on Sunday =Productivity

Have the crazies left yet?

Blogger found buried in yarn

Geneology

Krakow Adventure Day 5

WHAT?!?!

Can't be British

Krakow Adventure Day 4

Krakow Adventure Day 3

Krakow Adventures Day 2

Krakow Advenuture Day 1

and back!

Tourists

Good morning, sunshine!

Nope, still not attractive

More animals run amok with their Anti-Social behaviour

China getting them while they're young

Oh Shit

YES WE CAN!

Holy flipping fatty cakes, batman!

25 years gone by

Stoned Wallabies Run Amok

Kush- for idiots.

Job history

Feel the burn

oops

Life list

Russian Mutants

Pole dancing, or Ninja Assassins?

Quotes

Sweet Sun

Just call me Mowglie

Stop the bad news!!

It's official

Mind the urine

Something in the Air

Induction Day

Niagra at Midnight

SO cinnamon bun weather

Last of Eurovision

Also..

They make books about this?

To elucidate

The best part of Spring..

FINALLY!

Divorce

Get into the Groove

DEATH

Getting Hands On

EDIT:Expired

Afghanistan's only pig quarantined in flu fear | U.S. | Reuters

It runs in the family

Expired

LIke a bee in spring

Observations of Male/Female work ability

Love/Hate relationship

Oh what a difference a day makes

Gig to the iggidy

Death and Carnage at the Hospital

Here's hoping for a flood

Rad to the power of Sick

Yay for Yard Work

Ugh

Britain, you are OWNED

Warning: Gay virus spreads to Elephants!

Another British Fashion WTF

I see dead people

*Faint*

Hi to the Larious

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

No.

Turning diabetic, I think I'm turning diabetic, I really think so

2 much yarn+ 2 much time= recipe 4 disaster

Fail? I think NOT

Faint