Friday, 27 February 2009

Sleepless Friday Night

Boo to early Saturday mornings and lack of sleep on Friday nights!

I just finished reading a blog by a man who has just become a father. He talks alot about lack of sleep. I feel his pain. Although, while his sleep deprivation is due to baby, mine is more due to the bottle wine that needed consuming and the babydaddies blog.

On that note, I have a 9am appointment tomorrow so I need to hit the sack. Oh how it sucks being responsible for your own actions. I'm keen to be a teenager again... WHO'S WITH ME?!?!?!

5 ways to tell I'm tired:
1. I talk alot of rubbish
2. My spelling and general Enligh skills go out the window
3. I'm yawning... alot
4. I've got drunky eyes (Half open. You think you look sexy but really you just look like a goof.)
5. I can't think of the fifth. Can I get back to you tomorrow?

Nighty night!

Rubberband Balls (Gangsta FAIL!)

HAHA! I don't don't know what's more funny:

The fact that he has so much time on his hands or the fact that he thinks he's Gangsta!!!


I’m the first one to put my hand up and admit that I’m no domesticated goddess. Goddess yes but domesticated? Yeah, I think not! I figure that a clean house is a sign of a wasted life. I’m not into life wasting. You only live once so why waste several hours a month cleaning? It doesn’t make sense! Just give the house the once over before guests come around.

In saying that, I do have the odd 1950s style housewife moment every now and again. The boyfriend calls it nesting. He thinks those moments relate to my girl bits doing their girl things in the girly cycle. And when I tell him he’s wrong he then says, “Phase 2 begins, please don’t hit me!!!” ANYWAY… moving on from female functionality, (that was awkward for both of us!)

The other night I decided that I wanted to make dinner and play the ‘darling wife.’ We had some avocados that were getting pretty close to their "eat-before-it-grows-legs-and-runs-away" date. I decided I was going to make some nachos. Complete with Guacamole and all!!

Famous last words, "Go sit down… I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!" The boyfriend, who usually does most of the cooking, reluctantly left me alone in the kitchen.

Sure- I gave him guacamole. INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH GUACAMOLE!!! I got a little carried away with the;
garlic (four cloves should do it!)…
and the onion (I had 2 to choose from. I went with the smaller one at least!)…
and the chilli powder (2 Tea-spoons should be enough!)...
and the lemon (I'll juice the hole thing, best not waste it.)…
and the pepper (It was almost finished so I just used it up!).

So we sat down and ate our Nachos. The boyfriend nibbled his way through the nachos and you know what, he even ate the Industrial Strength Guacamole! Bless his cotton socks for his good manners! Once we were done he turned to me and said, “Are you still nesting or have you entered Phase 2 yet?”
“I think I’m still nesting. I don’t know. Try pissing me off and we’ll find out.”
“Nah, best not risk it!”

Wednesday, 25 February 2009

Blair's Halfway up the What????

EEEERRRRR, AAAAARRRRG, GRRRRRRRR. Those were the sounds I made on the tube last week when I got to page 153 in my book. You ask why I made those sounds? Well I’ll tell you why. I made the EEEEEEERRRR sound when I found out page 153 was missing! I turned the page in hope for page 154 but that wasn’t there either so I made a AAAAAARRRRG sound. I flicked the pages in anger and found that in fact all the pages up too 185 were missing!! Hence the GRRRRRRR sound and then man sitting next to me backing away slowly.

I went home livid. And fired off an e-mail to the publisher;

To Whom It May Concern,

Ref: Gossip Girl; Would I Lie to You
ISBN-10: 0-316-01183-5
ISBN-13: 978-0-316-01183-9

I was given a copy of the above book as a gift*. The book was received new**. It appears the book is in it's completion as no physical pages are missing from the spine.

However as I read the book, I turned the page to find that pages 153 -184 have not been printed. The book goes from page 152, (ending in, 'Blair was halfway up the') and then jumps to page 185 (Starting with the chapter, 'better late than never?') Please see attachment of scanned copy.

Now unless the missing pages only contain the word ‘Duff’, I would very much appreciate a replacement book for this misprinted copy. I am happy to send you the defected book if you kindly forward me a postal address.

I look forward to your response.

**Small white lie. I bought it on e-bay
** Small white lie. It cost me 50p as I was the fifth owner. It looked like it had been to hell and back. (No wonder it kept getting sold on, sneaky fuckers!)

The response:
I am sorry to learn of your defective book. The missing pages do contain more words than ‘Duff.’ Therefore, we would be more than happy to send you a free replacement copy. There is no need to send us the defective book. I will have the new book sent out right away.


Why thank you Emily!! It’s good to know that Blair isn’t up the duff!

Lets Talk About Sex

Ever since I was a little girl I have loved to write. I will write about anything from funny stories in my past to political issues and even in-depth rants about sandwiches. I have 2 characters that go on adventures and help me learn. It’s through these 2 that I’ve explored my limits.

Last night I was watching a documentary about Mills and Booms and the authors that have been published by them. The authors of these 50,000 word heart-bleeding books really aren’t as rubbish as people think. The art of writing crap like that is not something that can be taught but rather you’re born with it. You either got it or you don’t. I found out last night, that I don’t.

So as I sat there watching these women going through the motions of writing these stories, it got me thinking. Of all the things I’ve written, I’ve never written a sex scene. It had never even crossed my mind to write a sex scene so as curious as curious can get I grabbed my note book and attempted to write my first sex scene. As soon as I started scribing the words out I realised it was a lot harder than what I thought. How do you, in words, turn a normal sexual moment that is full of emotion and passion into something fluffy and romantic without sounding seedy and purvey? You really have to twist the lines of reality to get a clean and clear point across.

I called out to the boyfriend,“How would you start a sex scene?” After I belted it out at the top of my lungs, I realised I should have probably explained to him what I was doing first before yelling the question loud enough for the neighbours to hear.
“WHAT?!?! I generally get you drunk and then let the good times roll!” He laughed and came into the lounge to find out what I was up too and what I was wearing.
“Oh you’re writing, I thought you were hinting.” He said with disappointment. He sat down next to me and read what I had written. “It’s rather mushy. Not your style at all, where’s the punchy dialogue.”
I looked down at my work. He was right. That Mills and Booms documentary had got into my head and warped my style into something that sounded like a 1960s soft porn peep show scene. I tore out the page and screwed it up. No point in keeping crap! I started again, this time with more sex and less romance. Once I was done I ran into the Boyfriend's study quite proud of myself. He read my work and then started to laugh and squirm rather nervously.
“You certainly have a way with words. Maybe try less porn star and more loving couple. It’s very… umm… raw?”

I can take constructive criticism. And he was rite. Maybe describing how the sheets got twisted around the bed head in a hot and sweaty mess was a bit too graphic. Not one to give up I rewrote it again. This time instead of describing body parts and how they function in a way that Hugh Heffner would appreciate, I described the couple. Rather than going into the noisy details and the what went wear details, I went into the details of how they felt.

I must say it did feel rather uncomfortable writing about 2 characters that have been with me since my teenage years. It felt like I was prying into their life in a way a friend shouldn’t. These 2 characters had never been here before and as weird as it sounds they had no build up. They went from great friends to fuck buddies in a matter of seconds. I somehow felt like I’d tarnished them. Oh well. I suppose they had to loose their virginity at some point but I never thought it would be like this and then for them to go at it 3 times in one night!

I went to bed thinking of sex and all the ways it’s been dissected by words over the years. From innocent fumbles to rampant pornographic scenes of filth, I came to the conclusion that I’m not ready to write about sex yet. I think I might have my characters buy purity rings and have them repent in the next chapter. No one likes a whore.

Flight Time from London to South Africa - FAIL

I love having a blog! I can write about people and they won't know I'm doing it. Yes, I know that sounds really immature but do you want to hear the funny story or not?

This story actually goes back quite far. It's about a South African girl who used to be my house mate. She's not the sharpest crayon in the box and gave us hours of amusement! The rubbish she says, it would blow your mind! I keep her as a friend of facebook for pure comic relief.

But back to the story so many moons ago; One day we were all sitting in our lounge talking about international flight. 'Miss Plank of Wood' turned around and said, “All international flights are night flights.” We all rolled our eyes, a statement like that is expected from her. We tried to point out that there are international day flights. I even showed her my Itinerary for my flight back to Australia the following month. She wasn’t having any of it. Instead, she told us, “The reason why Kell is flying during the day is because she flies over the equator.” We looked at her and scratched our heads. WTF on so many levels!!!!
Que, Awkward Silence.
So I asked her, “When you fly to South Africa, do you not fly over the equator?”
She laughed and shook her head, “Kell sometimes you’re so stupid. Of course I don‘t fly over the equator, I fly over Africa.” She then gave me a demonstation and moved her arm in a swoop/big-dipper motion. This action made everything she said so much clearer.
Of course! Stupid me!

A few years have passed since her Epic grade 2 Geography fail. The other day I was talking to her on facebook. Guess who is flying back to South Africa? I couldn’t help it. I had to pick the scab until I became sore from laughing...

Kell V Man United

So last night we watched the football. Inter Milan V Man United. I’m not the biggest football fan. I just find the whole thing a bit chav! But anyway, The boyfriend asked who I wanted to win.
“The Blue ones. Inter Milan.” I replied without even looking up or thinking about it.
I could tell he was confused. He was expecting some smart-ass remark like I always give when watching the football. He’s used to me saying things like, “Who are the blue guys again?” and “When are the adds, I want to talk.” So when I managed to actually name a team and then know who I was referring too, he was naturally quite taken back. He patted my head, “Good Girl, you’re learning.”
“I’d hardly say being a FIFA 09 WAG is learning. More like force fed.” He wasn’t impressed with my quick wit and went back to the game.

At half time he turns to me and says, “How come you never watch the football and now all of a sudden you’re engrossed by it? You’re contradicting yourself. And why are you supporting Inter Milan exactly?”
“First off, it’s soccer. Secondly, you have a blue team and red team. The blue team look better, they also live in Milan so my money is on they don’t dress in tracksuits in their spare time. Thirdly they’re playing Man United who are more Chavtastic than a Kentish Town Council Estate. Cheap, tacky and nasty. Even Beckham left them! Win or loose the match it’s clear who the true winners are.”
The boyfriend shook his head, “That’s not how you pick a team.”
“I didn’t realise there are rules about how you pick a team.” If I’m going to support where my family come from then is should be supporting Arsenal but they were playing on the other channel and Justin was sitting on the control. In all fairness they’re just as Chav as Man United. Besides, who cares where your family comes from generations back. Do you think they would be pissed if you didn’t support the home team? It’s called jumping on the bandwagon and if you can’t tell, I’m against bandwagon jumping!

“There are no rules; it’s just that you can’t judge a team by how Chav their home city is.”
Want to make a bet?
The game kicked off again and my attention was drifting. Potato Head (Rooney) wasn’t playing so I couldn’t laugh at him (He came on at the very end). It was just, for lack other words, BORING! I sat there and practised my dirty war chants. Eventually it was over. 0 to 0. But it wasn’t a complete waste of 90mins. At least Man United didn’t win. In truth, that’s all I was hoping for.