Monthly Archives: January 2010
Caversham Princess Hulking Up at TNA… More images to come, but alas I must sleeeep…
People Get Ready
Another gem discovered on WFMU that I was disgracefully unaware of, specifically via Bill Kelly’s Teenage Wasteland.
Sunday evening and i’m onto the last glass of (quite frankly lovely) Viognier left in the bottle and I am feeling a little sad but mellow. I made lemon muffins that were clunky (but I ate them anyways!) and a sort-of Japanese noodle broth with miso, chicken, bok choi and wakame. I did a fair bit of washing up and added quite a bit more to the pile and I read pages and pages about bento – Japanese lunches – with regards ingredients, preparation, accessories- all for nought of course as I am in no way organised enough in the morning to do any sort of cooking however quick. It’s just interesting.
I would have a nice hot shower to top off the warm and fuzzyness however I seem to be temporarily without hot water. Fingers crossed it’s back in an hour or so… For the first time in what is honestly years i’ve been reading an actual fiction book over the last couple of weeks- re-reading The Berlin Noir trilogy by Philip Kerr; I like the hard-boiled speech and the setting, especially as I can imagine the places i’ve visited in Berlin myself. It’s dirty and exciting and rather interesting, given that the book i’m reading at the mo is set as the National Socialists are coming to power. I will have to schedule a viewing of Cabaret.
Thank fuck it’s payday at the end of the week; on Saturday it’s TNA at Wembley Arena WOO! Unfortunately the tickets have not arrived yet; months and months back MW#1 bought a pair for us to go, but given the current situation I thought it wasn’t the best idea to go together. Caversham Princess has dropped into the jumpseat for an evening of sweaty manliness, but i’ve a feeling that the powers that be i.e. the Royal Mail will prevent us from going, which will make me feel sad. I’ve been looking forward to it for months and although it makes me feel a bit glum that i’m not going with MW#1 I will feel very glum indeed if I don’t get to go at all. Sigh.
As I was reading Jezebel this evening with a glass of much-needed and much-appreciated Viognier, I came across the following story: Manhattan Prosecutors Plan To Argue Away Bisexuality
“Manhattan prosecutors plan to call to the stand the supposed fiancé of one of two strippers charged with prostitution in order to refute any defense that involves lesbianism. Because you could never want to screw men and women, right?”The photo illustrating the piece is the one on the right here; those feet, legs and shoes are all belong to me :)
I am proud!
The set this image is taken from is stripper, which is the same set Boing Boing took another shot from. Bless Flickr and the Stripper Shoes…
It’s been many a year now since I last wore those babies…
Hooray for proper credit for both shots too!
Jezebel is a site I read several times a day; it is a firm favourite. It amounts to fuck all but I am surprised and happy to have it on there, again even though it amounts to nowt.
Woo! I am famous in my own head! Woo!
The weekend. THANK FUCK.
“With his arms wide open and eyes sparkling with joy, he is handed over to his weeping mother’s embrace.”
“This seven-year-old boy named Kiki was pulled yesterday from the rubble of his home after being trapped for nearly eight days.”
“He and his elder sister Sabrina were in their home in Port-au-Prince when the devastating earthquake struck Haiti last week.”
Yes, so it’s from the Daily Fail but this pic made me tear up… The expression on the little boy’s face is so JOY
Images by Carsten Peter of the Cave of the Crystals, Mexico.
GIANT cave-filling crystals that make humans look like so many ants scampering over sugar. AWESOMENESS.
National Geographic – Cavern of Crystal Giants
Lemon Yoghurt Muffins? Like gently chewable rocks. Something went a bit wrong, but for the life of me I can’t work out what I messed up- I scaled the recipe down to make six muffins instead of twelve but followed the altered ingredients carefully. They’re not inedible, but not hugely appealing either; they don’t look like the examples shown on the recipe page… Oh dear… I am going to try nuking them with a splash of apple juice to see if that improves them.
As the day has passed i’ve felt better; although the baking was a disaster I made my soup and did a bit of washing up- these activities (especially the washing up) help calm my brain. I am an odd beast.
So, what happened last night that turned an enjoyable evening out with friends into a bit of a disaster?
I had been into Lahndahn tahn for a bit of art and due to a rather indulgent lunch I hadn’t eaten much before setting out for the evening, so I was probably undernourished for drinking; I was tired too and was forcing myself to go out because I need to get out more- I spend too many weekends sitting at home feeling glum. So all of these things meant I may not have been properly prepared.
So I went out, saw people and enjoyed a few drinks and a good chat. We all then went to do a bit of dancing to some not-very-good-but-hey-it’s-loud Drum and Bass and I enjoyed myself, jigging about with abandon along with everyone else. I was enjoying losing myself in the music when a couple appeared on the dancefloor; this couple were not dancing to the music, oh no, but grinding and in an “oh pleeease” sort of way- actual eye-rolling was done by myself. Anyway, they pissed me off because they were getting in the way of not just me but the other dancers and they were so self absorbed that they didn’t seem to give a fuck that they were being such dicks.
If you want to grind away then grind away- but move to the side of the fucking floor, would you? Or better still get a room? Aaand whilst you’re at it, wear a dress that is actually a dress and not just a long-ish top so that it barely covers your arse. Thanks! So I tried to ignore them but there was basically no escape, so I took a break and went to the bar for another drink. I queued and moved to the front of the bar where a woman asked me to move over so she could squeeze in next to her friend; she wasn’t buying the drinks and was being all smiley and cute in order to seem reasonable and this irked me – why should I move just so you can be next to your wittle fwiend – so I said nothing and stared at her before moving over. You can see where this is heading.
I got my drink and headed back to where my coat was stashed to find that the area where I had been dancing had been taken over by a gaggle of stiletto-heeled un-lovelies. The woman at the bar tottered past me and I suddenly thought “Right. That’s it. Fuck this. I’m not putting up with this shit any more. I’m going home.”
And so I did.
For all the inconsideration and stupidity on show that evening I know that the underlying cause of my upset was the whole MW#1 thing; the annoyances just pushed me over. When I cry in the car on the way to work, when weeping over albatross fledglings being chomped by Tiger sharks, or watching musicals and tearing up at the romantic slushy bits- All him. Nothing to do with him yet everything to do with him. I have no meaningful outlet for my feelings, as we don’t talk, so my bottled-upness occasionally boils over; I get fed up of being pushed around and over looked, but instead of getting angry I collapse in on myself. Sigh.
I think a spot of washing up therapy and a scrub under a hot shower is in order. Might paint my toenails. Purple I think. Maybe make some soup…
I left my evening out early before I dissolved into tears; as I sobbed along the streets, head down, determined to get home I repeatedly attempted to compose a slightly drunken, upset text to MW#1 expressing my anguish, my anger, but I stopped myself over and over again- What was the point? I have all these thoughts buzzing round my head and I feel so very sad, but really, why bother? By expressing myself i’ll only feel bad when I get no response, no giving-a-fuck.
How can I adequately express how I feel when the person in question has not indicated that they understand? I feel like I have no right to express myself, impinge upon them- I’m just the friend. Just the sad, lonely fool who’s been hanging on for these last five months. Do you know what it’s like to have to bottle all your feelings up, to have no outlet? I spent fifteen minutes doing my god-damned eye makeup and now i’ve cried it all to fuck. This is what you do to me, MW#1- You ruin my fucking eyeshadow.
I curse the day you were born.
Of course, being dorky in nature I found the black, glittery rivulets running down my face interesting, so out came my camera. I anaesthetised myself with a bowl of microwave-warmed faux Weetabix garnished with a handful of faux Coco Pops and I tried to put some sense into this rather disordered post. Fun times.
Bed, blanket, Patrick. Going to pretend the world and the sadness doesn’t exist for several god-damned hours.
This morning my drive to work succeeded in setting A New Record, or A New Low depending on how you look at it: Two and a half hours to get the seven miles to school. TWO AND A HALF HOURS.
Luckily, (without knowing it when I set off) due to the inclement weather conditions – hello snow – school had decided to open to exam groups from 8.40 to 10am and then everyone else after that; I didn’t have anyone to teach until then but I made my depleted class of Year 9’s with barely ten minutes to go. UGH.
I felt very tired when I got up and knackered by the time I got to work, even though all I was doing was sitting in my goshdarned car for a couple of hours (all that clutch work and eating of my emergency chocolate!); at the end of the day I was out the door as soon as was possible, coming back to my nest to hibernate for two hours to get my shit together for the rest of the evening. Things are bad when I need a nap to make it through to dinner time.
Also, today I saw my first Valentines Day advertising. JOY! The sign I passed just wanted to let me know that the partyware and gift shop was now taking orders for Valentines balloons. Thanks for that.
Today after school I did some actual, honest-to-God exercise- An hour of Pilates. I’ve not done “proper” exercise in years and have lost a lot of the flexibility and strength I gained from doing my swimming and associated land-based training; there’s no way I can ever get back to that level of fitness nor do I want to do so, but the hour’s work I did I enjoyed, and it’s been an even longer period of time since i’ve enjoyed exercising. Hurrah.
Pilates is not something i’ve done before however parts of it were familiar thinking back to my swimming training; yes, it’s not circuits or machine-based or aerobic but it was all very satisfying and not overly taxing (to begin with anyway). I’m going to try and go once a week and see how things go; I enjoyed myself so much that I would like to give a two-hour session a go… I think it’s probably best to take it sloowly… It’s nice to feel good :)
Continuing that subject of “healthy living”… (heh)
Yesterday I took myself and two cheeseburgers to see Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll; the cheeseburgers did not survive the trip unfortunately as I merrily consumed them before the opening titles. Hee.
SaDaRaR was good, with an as-per-usual grand performance by Andy Serkis, however it was not up to the music-related awesomeness of 24 Hour Party People, one of my favourite films and far more engaging. From the film it appears that Ian Dury could be a charmer when it suited and an irresponsible, absolute cunt of a man when it didn’t.
I suppose that I needed a little bit more from the film in terms of finding a “way in” to finding the man, the depth? Not that he needed to be likeable but at times it was very hard to grasp why anyone wanted to be with or work with him. It was only in the last few minutes of the film where Serkis sings a full-length number that things suddenly clicked. The terrible hair borne by Serkis and many of the other actors was quite stunning in it’s monstrosity- Well done hair and makeup.
At times the look of the film was confusing, over-stimulated, wobbly-shot, so that I found it a little hard to follow what the fuck was supposed to be going on- I would have settled for a straight-forward, more linear biopic, and i’ve been raised on the shaky cam of NYPD Blue. The story was all over the place and without context, sort of patched together so I wasn’t able to settle in and enjoy. The opening titles were by Peter Blake which was nice, but the animated segue-ways were too much for my poor snow-bound brain. Enough!
Fucking hell, I didn’t know that Dury went to the Royal College of Art where Peter Blake was his tutor… This is information – i.e. his bloody background (other than his raspberry ripple youth) – that would have been pretty good to know. Context!
Anywhoo, the Blockhead songs linked here are probably my favourite, not that this means a helluvalot…
Argh… eyes so tired, brain so fuzzy! Shower then bed…
It took forty-five minutes and a combination of the tea tray, a dustpan and brush, window squeegee, ice scraper, de-icer, a bucket and pulling away in second gear to get MR T out of his snowy tomb and off to B&Q for hunt for shovels, salt and sand. The tea tray broke after two minutes use however the broken bits proved useful to lever under the snow and lift it off in chunks. I shall use my wonky metal baking tray next.
There was a bit of wheel spin when crossing from the car park onto the pavement and then up onto the main road but other than that my trip to the retail park was uneventful. The lanes in each thoroughfare are artificially narrowed due to the accumulation of snow at the edges and every so often MR T went a little bit squiggly as he encountered some hardened crusty snow in the middle of the road. Fun. Of course, as expected there were no shovels or spades to be had and so I ended up buying a metal dustpan and a bag of sand; better than nowt I suppose. I’ve spread sand about the car park in appropriate places so hopefully when it snows again there’ll be a little bit more grip available.
School’s probably going to be open Monday; hopefully the snowfall predicted for later on tomorrow won’t be too heavy…
Unfortunately there appear to be no shovel-related products available within reasonable walking distance of my nest. Dammit. When I say none, I mean everything of a reasonable price is sold out with the remaining stock approaching the £30 mark, and I am not paying that much for a fucking spade.
School is open to staff only tomorrow, “for all those who live locally and can travel safely…” Well I don’t live locally, and would rather spend the day going to see Ed Ruscha at the Hayward – whether or not i’ll manage to make it to that before Sunday remains to be seen – but a day without kids would mean i’d be able to get some actual work done and perhaps get to do something fun, like make examples for classes. I think i’ll get the bus tomorrow and see if I can get hold of a spade over the weekend…
WOOOO! I have just checked my school’s website and school is off tomorrow :D
Here is MR T in the snow – he is the VW in the middle. Hello MR T!
As you can see, MR T is not going to get out of the car park without trouble. I am fearful of excavating him with a tea tray and so I might be taking the train tomorrow, that is if they’re running – at time of writing no forms of public transport are available to get me to work. I’m not sure if I should go and try and give him a little breathing space today or leave it until tomorrow; it’s pretty dark now so I really don’t fancy it. Once i’m on the street I figure i’ll be okay, but it’s getting the five metres onto it that is going to be the challenge. SIGH.
Anyway, after a morning spent back under the duvet with Patrick, hot water bottle and blanket I ventured five minutes down the road to my local Tesco- I managed to get the last-but-one loaf of bread – wholemeal (ak) – as the shelves were wiped of bread and its related products; most fruit and veg was gone and there was a large queue to pay; I am rather glad that I went to the supermarket yesterday.
It’s quite nice to have a day at home but I am worried about getting to work when it is re-opened; it seems like such hassle to drag myself in to teach classes that will be seriously down on attendance even though the kids have a lot less far to travel than myself. I am hoping for a phone call telling me school’s off…
Snow Day! Woo!
I was standing by my car about to tackle the inches of snow it was cocooned in when joy-of-joys my boss called me to tell me no school today and maybe none tomorrow either… I’d allowed myself two hours to make my seven mile journey and was armed with a tea tray to act as a shovel, blanket, magazine and bar of chocolate. It’s still snowing now with more forcast later and tomorrow it’s supposed to freeze over- tomorrow might be even more of a nightmare.
I’m a bit concerned about getting my car out of the car park tomorrow – there’s a car that’s been abandoned crazily seemingly whilst attempting to park; today both the buses and trains here are not running so there is no alternative and perhaps this will be the case tomorrow…
I’m going to celebrate by having the breakfast I never have the time to have and then recharge my hot water bottle and crawl back under my duvet. Eeeee….
It’s that time of year again – having to actually work for a living, or should I say, survive. Dammit. Tomorrow it’s an INSET day full of the joys of whatever educational fad is in vogue this week and Continuing Professional Development – development of my inclination to close my eyes and have a little siesta. Sigh. If only we could actually spend time in our departments learning things that are relevant to our subjects, things that are more relevant to our jobs than the usual crap we have to sit through…
Last night I met up with Caversham Princess and again I drank to excess whilst having a marvellous time, leaving me feeling decidedly under the weather today- Just in time for the new term… joy. Anyway, at least there’ll be no kids about tomorrow and lunch is provided. It will be nice to see my colleagues and catch up with them.
My boob is now reverting to more naturalistic colours and the scar is slowly healing. The Tegaderm-type stuff that left a rash? Well that has progressed into my skin peeling off across a large area; it’s itching like a motherfucker. I also feel hormonally nauseous… Time for a long hot shower and what will hopefully be a good nights sleep…
Magnum v. Solo, sequence comparison
Please don’t ask why I was looking up Magnum P.I. videos on YouTube…
Last night was pretty good all things considered- I did indeed have my steak and joy-of-joys I could actually taste that it was pretty good. Hurrah. I watched Cleopatra on DVD and ate unbranded Coco Pops for dessert as I couldn’t be bothered with the hour of prep it seems to take me to make a lemon yoghurt cake.
Today I made the cake and i’m currently waiting for it to cook; although last night was emotion-free today I appear to be much softer in the middle and have spent most of it feeling pretty glum. I’ve been planning my trip to Corsica for Grande Homme Brum and La Rousse’s nuptials and it’s been a bit on the downer side- it’s going to cost me around £600 to fly there and drive myself around for four days; I guess by the time everything is factored in – clothing, food, accommodation – I am going to be looking at £800, which is an entirely vast amount of money I cannot afford. Credit card ahoy. Anyway, i’m determined to go, but it would just be nice if it weren’t so horrifyingly expensive.
It seems that any money I do come into, so to speak, gets spent on things other than myself. My birthday money is going towards the trip to Corsica rather than treating myself; I suppose if it wasn’t being spent on the trip it would just be being spent on getting my car serviced or as is usual on Christmas presents…
At the moment I can’t look back on last Summer’s trip to Berlin without feelings of sadness and waste; I am wondering when something good will happen for me personally…? I feel like I am doomed to spending a life alone with almost every Summer “holiday” spent sat playing on my DS in whatever small accommodation I can afford. Always feeling like i’m surviving, not living. It also feels like trying to lead a decent life means that i’ll forever be undervalued and undercompensated. Yay for pay ladders that mean I do pretty much the same job as my more experienced colleagues yet earn ten grand less… Woo…
I suppose this rambling is i’m just tired of the tearing up, the crying. Outwardly appearing happy but once i’m alone weeping over the most ridiculous things. Wishing I could find someone other than a soft toy leaking stuffing to share my life with is hard… Please pardon the self pity on show here… I mean, i’ve a job I enjoy most of the time and find fulfilling and a roof over my head. Shutting up now…