Went to ANOTHER school fundraiser, auction thing at the weekend. Bought another week in Hawaii (aloha), a month of karate lessons (hi-yaaa) and a telescope bigger than me (nano-nano). Beach party theme. Margherita slushies. Nuff said.
At the same party I heard, a discussion on the PTA. 'That's such and such - she's the tall one.' In the noisy background (margherita slushies) I misheard this as '...she's the lead blonde.' My ears pricked up thinking I'd stumbled into the truth of the PTA political scene - I thought I'd heard the California version of 'she's the Alpha-female' Oh how they all laughed when I checked if I'd heard correctly - they didn't find it at all offensive despite all 3 of my companions being card carrying PTA California blondes. (thank god for margherita slushies).
On one of my lunchtime wanders last week I heard the following conversation from two women behind me. Word for word. ' I saw Jake Gillenhall. I was like, oh my god you're Jake Gillenhall - you're really short. I didn't say that though I just thought it' (earwigging faded out at this point till they caught up with me again at the lights) 'yeah I read this survey, and apparently the size of your head on a scale of the height of your body is an indication of how famous you'll be. Apparently its pretty acurate..." The lights changed. I didn't hear how famous Jake Gillenhall is going to be. Sorry.
I've also noticed that I keep hearing all these little expressions and sayings, which need to be translated, but then I forget them (age). So I've started a list on this page. I'm hoping to gather enough for a British - American dictionary. I must remember a section on how to shop for a duvet - what a confusing experience that is without a translator. But it's a boring story, so I'll spare you that for now.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
weeii thing
I had a go on a Nintendo Weii thingy at work yesterday. (Shows how old I am that I dont even know what its called.) But it's MAD.You hold a wireless remote control, make all the arm movements of a real sport ( I use the term sport loosely) and the the person on the telly does what you do. In 20 minutes I had a game of bowls (2 strikes, 1 spare, no beer though). A round or tennis (less said on that the better) and a home-run baseball session. (it's a stupid game anyway). I'm told some guy lost 20lbs in 2 months playing it - I take it he was pretty inactive before. But I did manage a little glow during the baseball despite hitting only one ball - although that was perhaps my blood pressure. God, I sound like an old git. 'oooh the things they can do these days - look its a wireless remote control thingy and it keeps my bones moving;.
But anyway it's so much fun I unintentionally revealed my addictive personality, so now they know all my weak points. So I'll have to find ANOTHER new job. Aw maan.
I've just realised that I've posted twice in one day. Both mention weight loss and addiction. Note to self. Stop watching Desperate Housewives.
But anyway it's so much fun I unintentionally revealed my addictive personality, so now they know all my weak points. So I'll have to find ANOTHER new job. Aw maan.
I've just realised that I've posted twice in one day. Both mention weight loss and addiction. Note to self. Stop watching Desperate Housewives.
are you trying to sell me THAT?
Here's the thing. 'People' magazine is running an ad which shows an old front page from the UK tabloid newspaper - the Daily Mail. Its a typically brain-strain Daily Mail story showing Brittany Spears spilling her handbag contents at Heathrow and picking up what looks like a well-known brand of slimming pills. I've no idea of how old the article is, but Brittany is capable of picking up her own handbag contents- so it's not recent. ANYHOO the ad has been placed by the slimming pills people. Basically they show the front page. Then underneath have an 8 line disclaimer along the lines of ' we by no way suggest Ms Spears endorses or uses or product, etc etc blah blah blah'. But they are using the revelation-scandal-piece (who doubtless get paid for its use) to let us know that supposedly Britanny uses it. This presumably sets the aspiration for a bod like Brits by her association with the drug.
Bizzarely I'm partially impressed at their resourcefulnes in cashing in on the situation. (its my job, I have an evil marketing node in my brain).
BUT here's the reality of the situation.
Britanny uses that slimming pill. We keep being warned there are side effects to these pills - mood swings, depression, who knows.
Britanny uses that slimming pill. Look at Britanny now, wi her eejit husband, velour trackies, shaved head and social workers hovering around her kids, warrants at the ready.
Britanny uses that slimming pill - Hmmm.... and the aspirational appeal is? - anyone??
Bizzarely I'm partially impressed at their resourcefulnes in cashing in on the situation. (its my job, I have an evil marketing node in my brain).
BUT here's the reality of the situation.
Britanny uses that slimming pill. We keep being warned there are side effects to these pills - mood swings, depression, who knows.
Britanny uses that slimming pill. Look at Britanny now, wi her eejit husband, velour trackies, shaved head and social workers hovering around her kids, warrants at the ready.
Britanny uses that slimming pill - Hmmm.... and the aspirational appeal is? - anyone??
Monday, March 19, 2007
Whiter than white.
I feel my California experience may be almost complete. I need only an uber-bod and a non-bottle suntan and I'll be able to return to dear old Blighty fulfilled. (It may take some time for that bod to appear though). Following on from the earthquake non-incident, the following unfolded this week.
Background: February I was ruthlessly bullied into parting with a substantial bunch of cash for dad 'n' daughter matching wetsuits. They wore me down in the surf shop when we went to hire suits yet again, for another Sunday of boogie-boarding. Truth is I like going to the surf shop. I like the charming young surf chaps who work there. (uhuhu). But I relented. Needless to say, I now throw them out to the beach every chance I get to make them justify the cost. Not that I hear many complaints - its not like sending them for a wander up Kelvingrove Park in the rain after all.
Anyway, this Sunday, off they scampered as a reward for getting through 19 pages of math homework. I got to stay home and fill out some tax forms. Fun. When I opened the door to them a couple of hours later, I was faced with two whiter than white slightly shifty looking articles. Oh ho thinks I - what happened? Now obviously I'm suspecting that Dad was so busy having fun in the surf he forgot to mind small girl properly. But no, turns out he was being super responsible (as he should). While surfing they meet a little sea-lion bobbing up and down watching them. Quite a common occurence here for the curious young uns to come close for a nosy. So dad is watching the sea-lion and as he does is thinking about the dead 4-foot leopard shark we'd found on a neighbouring beach a couple of days before. The thought occurs to him - it must have been a bigger shark that got it. Link. I wonder should I be concerned about the proximity of that baby seal attracting predators? Bang on cue two black fins rise on either side behind the seal criss-crossing as they close in. So you can imagine the survival instinct kicks in. Shriek, swim, shriek, run back for your child (!), run, look again, realise it's dolphins, keep running, stop, admire the dolphins, realise the whole beach is looking at you, gather child and slope off feeling like a stupid big prat in a rubber suit.
Two things concern me.
1 child with no fear cant wait to go back to same beach !
2 husband is fretting that his survival instinct may be weak because he went back for said child!!!
Thank God for my pale and sulky computer geek son. At least I wont be left all alone in my middle-age.
Lord help me.
Background: February I was ruthlessly bullied into parting with a substantial bunch of cash for dad 'n' daughter matching wetsuits. They wore me down in the surf shop when we went to hire suits yet again, for another Sunday of boogie-boarding. Truth is I like going to the surf shop. I like the charming young surf chaps who work there. (uhuhu). But I relented. Needless to say, I now throw them out to the beach every chance I get to make them justify the cost. Not that I hear many complaints - its not like sending them for a wander up Kelvingrove Park in the rain after all.
Anyway, this Sunday, off they scampered as a reward for getting through 19 pages of math homework. I got to stay home and fill out some tax forms. Fun. When I opened the door to them a couple of hours later, I was faced with two whiter than white slightly shifty looking articles. Oh ho thinks I - what happened? Now obviously I'm suspecting that Dad was so busy having fun in the surf he forgot to mind small girl properly. But no, turns out he was being super responsible (as he should). While surfing they meet a little sea-lion bobbing up and down watching them. Quite a common occurence here for the curious young uns to come close for a nosy. So dad is watching the sea-lion and as he does is thinking about the dead 4-foot leopard shark we'd found on a neighbouring beach a couple of days before. The thought occurs to him - it must have been a bigger shark that got it. Link. I wonder should I be concerned about the proximity of that baby seal attracting predators? Bang on cue two black fins rise on either side behind the seal criss-crossing as they close in. So you can imagine the survival instinct kicks in. Shriek, swim, shriek, run back for your child (!), run, look again, realise it's dolphins, keep running, stop, admire the dolphins, realise the whole beach is looking at you, gather child and slope off feeling like a stupid big prat in a rubber suit.
Two things concern me.
1 child with no fear cant wait to go back to same beach !
2 husband is fretting that his survival instinct may be weak because he went back for said child!!!
Thank God for my pale and sulky computer geek son. At least I wont be left all alone in my middle-age.
Lord help me.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
sick,paperface,spelling,lump,horses (aka a rambling post)
I've been sick. A kind of cold, flu, bug type thing. Just very tedious and very tiring. I stayed home for three days and worked from the desk in the back room. Very kind of me I believe, as I quarantined the darn thing - if only everyone were so considerate I wouldnt have caught it in the first place. (you know who you are!)
I've no desire to get into a sick-off (see the very funny steven-short-stories.blogspot.com for more on this topic). But others in the house were also sick - only the grown man had to take himself off to bed and have silence and isolation. Woman and kids continued to drag on regardless. I draw no conclusion but felt this worth a mention.
Daylight saving came into force this weekend (spring forward) which means its dark in the mornings when I try to get up. I'm amazed at how this sets me back. How I survived in Scotland ever, I dont know. Last week I was bouncing out of bed at 6am without a thought. This week I'm like a corpse rising when the alarm goes off. I only lost an hour - I presume its mostly psychological but it feels very real.
Also, this week, I ran out of my favourite $6 per gallon moisturiser. Because I was sick I couldnt go buy more, so I resorted instead to the $90 stuff lurking on my shelf (yes I am so sad and frivolous that I buy this stuff and then only use it once a month). After 4 days my face looks like its made of newspaper. How can this be? Am I being ripped off by the $90 people? (shah yuh-uh!) Have I over the years killed my skins ability to moisturise itself? Can it no longer produce oil? Whats happening? Should I micro dermabrase to remove the dry flaky bits or let it heal? I need botox and a lift so badly now, its unbelievable. Is this how old I really am? Why did no-one tell me this is what lurks under all that oil i plaster on twice a day? I should SO advertise Nivea cheapo cream, its a miracle potion I tell you.
Just noticed a strange thing as I typed that last bit. Moisturise looks wrong. Moisturize looks right. I'm starting to believe that there is a place for the letter Z in the middle of words. Dear God, things are bad! (and I just pronounced this in my head as zee and not zed - I'm obviously feeble minded and weak)
Spoke to the ENT guy at last. My lump is/was officially a cyst which nature has taken care of it by itself. That was worth the $2,000 medical bills then. Glad I saw so many professionals to get to that conclusion.
Went to a school fundraiser thing a couple of weeks back and bought 6 days in Hawaii. So thats the summer hol taken care of.
Booked a trip to Santa Fe for spring break (Easter week) looking forward to venturing out of the California/NYC circle which has ensnared me for the past year. Must remember to take my cowboy boots - but I'm telling you now, I am NOT catching my own horse again. Last time it took me 20 minutes to edge close enough to the darn thing to get a harness on - and then it bolted anyway. Nope, I want it to pull up all groomed, saddled and held on a short reign for me. None of this horsemanship and hoof cleaning stuff. Get on, ride, get off. That's my kind of riding lesson.
I've no desire to get into a sick-off (see the very funny steven-short-stories.blogspot.com for more on this topic). But others in the house were also sick - only the grown man had to take himself off to bed and have silence and isolation. Woman and kids continued to drag on regardless. I draw no conclusion but felt this worth a mention.
Daylight saving came into force this weekend (spring forward) which means its dark in the mornings when I try to get up. I'm amazed at how this sets me back. How I survived in Scotland ever, I dont know. Last week I was bouncing out of bed at 6am without a thought. This week I'm like a corpse rising when the alarm goes off. I only lost an hour - I presume its mostly psychological but it feels very real.
Also, this week, I ran out of my favourite $6 per gallon moisturiser. Because I was sick I couldnt go buy more, so I resorted instead to the $90 stuff lurking on my shelf (yes I am so sad and frivolous that I buy this stuff and then only use it once a month). After 4 days my face looks like its made of newspaper. How can this be? Am I being ripped off by the $90 people? (shah yuh-uh!) Have I over the years killed my skins ability to moisturise itself? Can it no longer produce oil? Whats happening? Should I micro dermabrase to remove the dry flaky bits or let it heal? I need botox and a lift so badly now, its unbelievable. Is this how old I really am? Why did no-one tell me this is what lurks under all that oil i plaster on twice a day? I should SO advertise Nivea cheapo cream, its a miracle potion I tell you.
Just noticed a strange thing as I typed that last bit. Moisturise looks wrong. Moisturize looks right. I'm starting to believe that there is a place for the letter Z in the middle of words. Dear God, things are bad! (and I just pronounced this in my head as zee and not zed - I'm obviously feeble minded and weak)
Spoke to the ENT guy at last. My lump is/was officially a cyst which nature has taken care of it by itself. That was worth the $2,000 medical bills then. Glad I saw so many professionals to get to that conclusion.
Went to a school fundraiser thing a couple of weeks back and bought 6 days in Hawaii. So thats the summer hol taken care of.
Booked a trip to Santa Fe for spring break (Easter week) looking forward to venturing out of the California/NYC circle which has ensnared me for the past year. Must remember to take my cowboy boots - but I'm telling you now, I am NOT catching my own horse again. Last time it took me 20 minutes to edge close enough to the darn thing to get a harness on - and then it bolted anyway. Nope, I want it to pull up all groomed, saddled and held on a short reign for me. None of this horsemanship and hoof cleaning stuff. Get on, ride, get off. That's my kind of riding lesson.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Life is good
On those nice sunny days, and there are many here. I HAVE to go out and enjoy the sun on my face, even for five minutes. It makes me feel human. And as one who was deprived of the great ball of fire in the sky for the first 20 years of life, I really do appreciate having it on tap. So out I go for a wander of a lunchtime.
I also love people watching. The tribal habits of the human species never ceases to amaze me and I love to shake my head in a superior manner as I pigeon-hole innocent passers-by based on nothing more than their wardrobe and my prejudices.
So right now, I am in lunchtime heaven. I've discovered the Starbucks 2 blocks away, opposite the big conference centre. So I can idle along, gawp at the tribe-de-jour in line, play guess the convention as I stroll in the sun, tall, no-fat, vanilla, latte in hand. Then be perfectly smug when I spot an entrance tag to confirm my assumptions were right.
Todays wardrobe of choice:
women with Doc Marten shoes and extended bellies.
young(ish) blokes in no-style in particular jeans and Tenacious D T-shirts
middle aged men with longish ponytails straggling down from a bald heed
and that Silicon Valley uniform of choice - grey with black graphic pattern, short sleeved shirt and 1998 no-name training shoes.
That'd be a game developers convention then?
Oh how smug and perfect am I? Despite my new vanilla latte addiction I can still spot a geek at 50 paces. I am GOOD!
Normally at this point I'd self obsess about what people think of me when they see me wandering the streets, sipping coffee and eating a muffin from a bag. But today I wont. Because today was Game Developers day - and since I'm not plugged into a 16-inch monitor with multiple 3D viewing options and an weapons arsenal to rival the Queens Highlanders, I know no one thought anything of me - or even saw me. I like that fact!.
I also love people watching. The tribal habits of the human species never ceases to amaze me and I love to shake my head in a superior manner as I pigeon-hole innocent passers-by based on nothing more than their wardrobe and my prejudices.
So right now, I am in lunchtime heaven. I've discovered the Starbucks 2 blocks away, opposite the big conference centre. So I can idle along, gawp at the tribe-de-jour in line, play guess the convention as I stroll in the sun, tall, no-fat, vanilla, latte in hand. Then be perfectly smug when I spot an entrance tag to confirm my assumptions were right.
Todays wardrobe of choice:
women with Doc Marten shoes and extended bellies.
young(ish) blokes in no-style in particular jeans and Tenacious D T-shirts
middle aged men with longish ponytails straggling down from a bald heed
and that Silicon Valley uniform of choice - grey with black graphic pattern, short sleeved shirt and 1998 no-name training shoes.
That'd be a game developers convention then?
Oh how smug and perfect am I? Despite my new vanilla latte addiction I can still spot a geek at 50 paces. I am GOOD!
Normally at this point I'd self obsess about what people think of me when they see me wandering the streets, sipping coffee and eating a muffin from a bag. But today I wont. Because today was Game Developers day - and since I'm not plugged into a 16-inch monitor with multiple 3D viewing options and an weapons arsenal to rival the Queens Highlanders, I know no one thought anything of me - or even saw me. I like that fact!.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
La Lump
I've had many requests for an update on the lump. It throws me into such a soapbox-esque rant that I've been avoiding it. Summary is, its gone away! If I really poke and squash my face I can feel it. And it's defo there on the x-rays, but so not bugging me anymore. So I'm in the quandry of leave it or persue it in case it should flare up again and leave me in an covered medical insurance state. Hmmmmm. ENT guy doesnt believe its on the bone or anything. Although he doesnt know what it is. Hubby blames a humungous trapped bogie (nice thought). Sister suspects an internal big zit. Colleague thinks an ingrowing nasal hair (even nicer thought). Not sure what is worse, internet self diagnosis (see earlier posting) or soliciting opinion of common sense acquantances. Hmmm what to do?
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