Thanks to Caroline for tipping me off to a truly bizarre site, nobodyhere.com .
Is it a blog or isnt it? I dont know.
Anyhow, Seriously freaky is the toe dream, you have to see this. Very clever and just yuck.
If, after that, you are feeling a little sadistic try this: Bear. Bear is pink but somehow very masculine, and I like the way he cringes slightly. You'll see.
--------------------------
My contact at the County Council sent me out copies of everything to do with the statementing process, yesterday. It all arrived today. Bless him, its nice to know theres one good apple in the barrel, even if this is still one huge, hellish mess.
08 March 2005
07 March 2005
Haha-de-bloody-haha
A joke from my resilient, ebullient eldest son, who has gone from end-of-the-world-get-me-out-of-here to life's a beach, in two short days:
Did you hear about the circumcisionist who slipped?
He got the sack.
A joke from East Sussex County Council, who were weeks late sending me a letter announcing intent to issue a note in lieu for my younger son, in which letter was a list of intended provisions and a note on how to appeal etc:
'Oh no Mrs White, the Note in Lieu was sent out to you in December with the letter announcing it'.
Yeah right, I am rolling on the floor, my sides are splitting, not. Thats why, 9th January, even the Educational Psychologist hadnt seen a copy.
KILL.....................
Did you hear about the circumcisionist who slipped?
He got the sack.
A joke from East Sussex County Council, who were weeks late sending me a letter announcing intent to issue a note in lieu for my younger son, in which letter was a list of intended provisions and a note on how to appeal etc:
'Oh no Mrs White, the Note in Lieu was sent out to you in December with the letter announcing it'.
Yeah right, I am rolling on the floor, my sides are splitting, not. Thats why, 9th January, even the Educational Psychologist hadnt seen a copy.
KILL.....................
05 March 2005
Happy Daze
I never wanted this to be a 'personal' blog, but a heroic gas man turned up at 4.30 yesterday and fitted a new fan on the boiler. We have heat and hot water.
The most bizarre thing is that when I was having to boil pans of water for the washing up, everything was done, carefully scraped and rinsed under the cold tap first to make the least mess in the precious bowl of suds which, given the recent awful weather, started going cold as soon as it was filled. This morning there isnt an inch of space in the kitchen because we all breathed out and caught 'it-doesn't-matter-itis'. The sink is blocked with stuff that wasnt scraped from the stacked plates before my darling husband landed them in the bowl to make space and all in all its time to get back down to business - rediscover tops grunged with the spills from five days of constant hot drinks. No more excuses that I cant face using cleaning fluids with cold water or worse, neat, with nothing but a cold hand-wash afterward.
Not only did the boiler man come and rescue us, there was a long, helpful and reassuring phone chat with someone who is helping me sort out the mess and confusion around my youngest son's special needs statement.
His older brother upset me, thoroughly, for two days solid, but that has a happy ending too so today I am in an incongruous puddle of peace. The little issues, which will probably matter tomorrow, are insignificant today, my internal warning system has shut down. It over heated with the last few days of big issues and it needs a reboot.
It feels strange, like treading water, but I know my life well enough to make the most of it.
The older son thing requires its own space, so the telling will be separate, if it happens.
The most bizarre thing is that when I was having to boil pans of water for the washing up, everything was done, carefully scraped and rinsed under the cold tap first to make the least mess in the precious bowl of suds which, given the recent awful weather, started going cold as soon as it was filled. This morning there isnt an inch of space in the kitchen because we all breathed out and caught 'it-doesn't-matter-itis'. The sink is blocked with stuff that wasnt scraped from the stacked plates before my darling husband landed them in the bowl to make space and all in all its time to get back down to business - rediscover tops grunged with the spills from five days of constant hot drinks. No more excuses that I cant face using cleaning fluids with cold water or worse, neat, with nothing but a cold hand-wash afterward.
Not only did the boiler man come and rescue us, there was a long, helpful and reassuring phone chat with someone who is helping me sort out the mess and confusion around my youngest son's special needs statement.
His older brother upset me, thoroughly, for two days solid, but that has a happy ending too so today I am in an incongruous puddle of peace. The little issues, which will probably matter tomorrow, are insignificant today, my internal warning system has shut down. It over heated with the last few days of big issues and it needs a reboot.
It feels strange, like treading water, but I know my life well enough to make the most of it.
The older son thing requires its own space, so the telling will be separate, if it happens.
04 March 2005
Bleugh, Grrr, Arg, Haha
Day five with no heating and hot water. After Monday's fun and games with Blob the builder, finally got sent a real gas engineer yesterday, who had to order a new fan for the boiler because the motor has burned out. Chances are there will be knock-on problems, so on next Monday, please God, we will have a new fan in the boiler and be over half way to having it fixed.
We had the coldest night so far, last night, minus 12. Gosh what a jolly jape that was. Ahahaha.
Until then, I get moments of lucidity and enthusiasm, but not many. I now know where every single sinus runs around my head, because on one side, for the full five days, I have been able to feel and sometimes see each and every one, throbbing and complaining and in spite of pain killers probably hot enough to fry an egg. Am almost at the stage where it becomes essential to press your forehead onto a door frame and hold the back of your head in tight, whilst asking a.n.other to poke you in the eyes and stop them exploding from the sockets, just to manage a whimpering little half cough. So sodding annoying and degrading, and wearing a woolly hat indoors all day helps, but is itchy and, oh bugger it, the whole world is at fault, its that sort of day - kill first, ask questions later, so ignore me.
Both the kids are off sick, one more sick than the other, so the livelier one is bored and the poorlier one is constantly wailing to be left alone. I could tell you that I love my children dearly, but to get the words out it would involve a glazed, wide-eyed look, a fixed smile and a slight rocking motion. If my hands weren't at the keyboard its quite possible there would be an involuntary twitch to the fingers also.
Cathartic whining over, (Look, children, see the burning martyr!) here is the so-called bloggy bit, which is a straight steal from Silverbird. Don't follow that link for her version, she posted it at Homeworking.com, specifically here.
Thanks Sharon/Silver.
OK all those people outside the UK can go now, LOL, this is for Brit car drivers with guilty consciences.
Have fun.
We had the coldest night so far, last night, minus 12. Gosh what a jolly jape that was. Ahahaha.
Until then, I get moments of lucidity and enthusiasm, but not many. I now know where every single sinus runs around my head, because on one side, for the full five days, I have been able to feel and sometimes see each and every one, throbbing and complaining and in spite of pain killers probably hot enough to fry an egg. Am almost at the stage where it becomes essential to press your forehead onto a door frame and hold the back of your head in tight, whilst asking a.n.other to poke you in the eyes and stop them exploding from the sockets, just to manage a whimpering little half cough. So sodding annoying and degrading, and wearing a woolly hat indoors all day helps, but is itchy and, oh bugger it, the whole world is at fault, its that sort of day - kill first, ask questions later, so ignore me.
Both the kids are off sick, one more sick than the other, so the livelier one is bored and the poorlier one is constantly wailing to be left alone. I could tell you that I love my children dearly, but to get the words out it would involve a glazed, wide-eyed look, a fixed smile and a slight rocking motion. If my hands weren't at the keyboard its quite possible there would be an involuntary twitch to the fingers also.
Cathartic whining over, (Look, children, see the burning martyr!) here is the so-called bloggy bit, which is a straight steal from Silverbird. Don't follow that link for her version, she posted it at Homeworking.com, specifically here.
Thanks Sharon/Silver.
OK all those people outside the UK can go now, LOL, this is for Brit car drivers with guilty consciences.
Did you know that recent Government legislation changing the Freedom of Information Acts gives you access to speed camera offences registered within the last twelve months and placed on a freely accessible website?
Did you know that every time your car goes even over a mile or so over the speed limit, it is registered and placed on the database?
They only send a ticket if you are way over, OR if you receive over 20 near misses. You can now check how many you have against your car's registered number. Check this page: http://www.e-database.co.uk
It will ask you for a password - but just click on the 'need a password/' link and you'll be given one in a pop-up window. In the top right hand corner there is a "click-on" window and it even shows the picture taken by the camera.
Have fun.
03 March 2005
And the Chain Goes On
Thanks to BadAunt and No-one for agreeing to be interviewed. The chain goes on.
I struggled over the questions for BadAunt and worried that they were a bit lame, so now I will have a HUGE SMILE on my face because they were good enough to get some brilliant, funny and informative answers - I laughed out loud - check it out.
What can I say about No-one? I could be cruel (yet again) by saying that although he likes to promote himself as Mr been-there-done-that, all that and a bag of chips, he is actually a gentleman and the sort you would want on your side if the shit hit the fan. But hey, I wont say it, it would spoil all his self promotion to the contrary.
I consciously set out to embarrass him with my questions (see entry below, I owed him!) and I read his entire blog, archives et al, to avoid duplication and try and find stuff he had glossed over. Okay, one or two of those would have been taking it way too far so I side stepped, but still think I did a pretty good stitch-up job.
All credit to anyone who can take it as well as they can dish it out. Game over, I concede a draw.
Sorry Andrea and Kim, but the whole dominatrix thing isnt gonna happen. He's off the hook.
I struggled over the questions for BadAunt and worried that they were a bit lame, so now I will have a HUGE SMILE on my face because they were good enough to get some brilliant, funny and informative answers - I laughed out loud - check it out.
What can I say about No-one? I could be cruel (yet again) by saying that although he likes to promote himself as Mr been-there-done-that, all that and a bag of chips, he is actually a gentleman and the sort you would want on your side if the shit hit the fan. But hey, I wont say it, it would spoil all his self promotion to the contrary.
I consciously set out to embarrass him with my questions (see entry below, I owed him!) and I read his entire blog, archives et al, to avoid duplication and try and find stuff he had glossed over. Okay, one or two of those would have been taking it way too far so I side stepped, but still think I did a pretty good stitch-up job.
All credit to anyone who can take it as well as they can dish it out. Game over, I concede a draw.
Sorry Andrea and Kim, but the whole dominatrix thing isnt gonna happen. He's off the hook.
02 March 2005
And the rude version.....
Not to be left out, George/Yanni/No-one was in a challenging mood last night, and probably after a few bevvies, decided that when I asked Andrea to interview me I was actually asking anybody to interview me.
He lolled into sight, briefly, before skulking off to try and find naughty pictures, rather unsuccessfully this time, I feel. Poor lad.
So, George, now that you have skittered into my domain like a devilish schoolboy, dropped your list and run away again (its alright, that was a wise move), here are your questions and my answers.
Q. What is sexier, elf boxers or a tuxedo?
A. You looked adorable in your elf boxers. Nonetheless, if we assume the average adult male looks something like, lets say, Homer Simpson, I would have to say tuxedo. I guess it depends on what (who) is or isnt showing when you get down to the boxers.
Q. Oral........ give or take?
A. Ooh, wet knickers, or a mouthful of something very like Ajax/Cif kitchen cleaner - mmm yummy, I'm stuck for choice. Not.
Seriously, if I hadnt been a Christian I would have been a call girl, in fact by now I think I would own a string of high class establishments with well equipped dungeons, and would dress up once in a while to do the Royal tour. It would cost extra of course, if you wanted your controller to hold you down with your nose on the concrete floor to get a glimpse of my stilettos strolling past your face. There would be no punishment other than exclusion, for disobedience, because to some guys the idea of an extra hour in the isolation tank or public humiliation is just a come-on. Hey, ho, it takes all sorts. Like I said, toooooo easy.
Q. Sandwich or pizza when sober
A. I get the feeling that in your world, this too has sexual connotations. Pizza , very hot and very spicy. Unless its the sexiest, creamiest, widest sandwich full of eye-rolling flavours. That do you?
Q. Curry or fast food when drunk
A. Are you joking? I wouldn't touch fast food under normal circumstances, and if it tastes like fatty, salty cardboard when I am sober, God alone knows how bland, pappy and nauseating it would be when I'm drunk. Curry, definitely, although if the choice was there I would opt for a large doner kebab, with extra chillies, but only if its from one of the proper shops that puts lemon juice on the salad.
Q. TV or Movies and why?
A. Movies. Because it involves my husband being clean, attentive and dressed, not taking up 80% of the sofa nor channel hopping in the breaks to see the footie results, and talking to me on the way home.
Q. George or Andrea? (You can only choose one)
A. Hmmm. You've got a good'un there, and although Andrea would be brilliantly funny company and probably a right laugh, I'd choose George. Just to remind him that Andrea is an individual and not so lovely just because she is 'British'. By the time I'd done with you, you would know for life that she's one of a kind. Gosh, how altruistic of me, must be all this talk of dungeons, or maybe just your cheek!
Q. Union Jack or Cross of St George.
A. I'm Welsh. Next.
Q. Soccer or Football
A. Oh haha lets all giggle at how the British call soccer football! Erm, Rugby football - got ya. Real men, with muscles, lots of physical contact and basically its American football with better rules and no armour. Your guys wear helmets and shoulder padding, ours wear headbands. They keep your ears flat so they don't get torn off.
Poor boy. Was I mean to him? Hey ho, I'll live it down, I'm sure, and if Andrea likes him, he must be lovely really. Maybe for future reference I shouldn't answer questions like that before breakfast.
Next?
He lolled into sight, briefly, before skulking off to try and find naughty pictures, rather unsuccessfully this time, I feel. Poor lad.
So, George, now that you have skittered into my domain like a devilish schoolboy, dropped your list and run away again (its alright, that was a wise move), here are your questions and my answers.
Q. What is sexier, elf boxers or a tuxedo?
A. You looked adorable in your elf boxers. Nonetheless, if we assume the average adult male looks something like, lets say, Homer Simpson, I would have to say tuxedo. I guess it depends on what (who) is or isnt showing when you get down to the boxers.
Q. Oral........ give or take?
A. Ooh, wet knickers, or a mouthful of something very like Ajax/Cif kitchen cleaner - mmm yummy, I'm stuck for choice. Not.
Seriously, if I hadnt been a Christian I would have been a call girl, in fact by now I think I would own a string of high class establishments with well equipped dungeons, and would dress up once in a while to do the Royal tour. It would cost extra of course, if you wanted your controller to hold you down with your nose on the concrete floor to get a glimpse of my stilettos strolling past your face. There would be no punishment other than exclusion, for disobedience, because to some guys the idea of an extra hour in the isolation tank or public humiliation is just a come-on. Hey, ho, it takes all sorts. Like I said, toooooo easy.
Q. Sandwich or pizza when sober
A. I get the feeling that in your world, this too has sexual connotations. Pizza , very hot and very spicy. Unless its the sexiest, creamiest, widest sandwich full of eye-rolling flavours. That do you?
Q. Curry or fast food when drunk
A. Are you joking? I wouldn't touch fast food under normal circumstances, and if it tastes like fatty, salty cardboard when I am sober, God alone knows how bland, pappy and nauseating it would be when I'm drunk. Curry, definitely, although if the choice was there I would opt for a large doner kebab, with extra chillies, but only if its from one of the proper shops that puts lemon juice on the salad.
Q. TV or Movies and why?
A. Movies. Because it involves my husband being clean, attentive and dressed, not taking up 80% of the sofa nor channel hopping in the breaks to see the footie results, and talking to me on the way home.
Q. George or Andrea? (You can only choose one)
A. Hmmm. You've got a good'un there, and although Andrea would be brilliantly funny company and probably a right laugh, I'd choose George. Just to remind him that Andrea is an individual and not so lovely just because she is 'British'. By the time I'd done with you, you would know for life that she's one of a kind. Gosh, how altruistic of me, must be all this talk of dungeons, or maybe just your cheek!
Q. Union Jack or Cross of St George.
A. I'm Welsh. Next.
Q. Soccer or Football
A. Oh haha lets all giggle at how the British call soccer football! Erm, Rugby football - got ya. Real men, with muscles, lots of physical contact and basically its American football with better rules and no armour. Your guys wear helmets and shoulder padding, ours wear headbands. They keep your ears flat so they don't get torn off.
Poor boy. Was I mean to him? Hey ho, I'll live it down, I'm sure, and if Andrea likes him, he must be lovely really. Maybe for future reference I shouldn't answer questions like that before breakfast.
Next?
01 March 2005
Paying it forward (victims required)
Andrea over at A day In the life of.... was interviewed on her blog a few days ago, and offered to similarly interrogate the first five people to comment, so now it’s my turn. Here are the (jolly awkward) questions she came up with, for me, plus my answers.
Andrea: You say on your profile that Howard the Duck is one of your fave movies. Tell me something about the film that makes it your fave.
Me: The music, the silly dance that goes with the title song at the end of the movie, the idea that you don’t need perfect hair, a square smile and no nose (like the usual US film stars) to be cute; the transdimensional armchair ride and most of all scaring my kids witless, rolling my eyes and saying “I’m not Jennings, I’m somebody else”. That’s fun.
Andrea: Tell me something about Seaford that I didn't know and that would make me want to visit!
Me: Something you didn’t know? There are two places in America called Seaford, that don’t appear to ford a sea or river and were therefore probably named after this, the original, so somebody must have liked it here once. Warmington on Sea (the location for Dad’s Army) was based on this town and I suspect half of the characters were based on its residents, who haven’t changed much. Something to make you want to visit? No, sorry, pass. Oh, worth a day trip; the seagulls laugh. No they do, honestly. You see one lone gull, circling you as you walk along. He poops, he hits, he scores, and all of a sudden, there are twenty of them up there, all squawking their heads off. It’s a favourite game because, unlike most of the residents, the gulls have a sense of humour.
Andrea: Have you ever done something you were ashamed of and if so, what?
Me: Yeah, I married my first husband, and stayed put out of misplaced Christian principles for eight long years, until he left me. That was the biggest (only) favour he ever did me. I did also do things like get my kid brother to hold a broom handle that was keeping a bucket of water stuck to the ceiling, then walk off and leave him until his arms gave out and he soaked himself – but hey, you asked for things I was ashamed of, so that doesn’t count.
Andrea: In 6 words tell me about your best friend.
Me: Erm, nope, sorry, haven’t got one. That’s six. Seriously I am not that girly and if you were to line up my closest, funniest girlfriends, my mum, my husband and my four kids, I couldn’t pick one out above the rest.
Andrea: What was the best time you had at school.
Me: Good grief, that’s eons ago. I think it was the day, at seniors, when we had a sit down strike in the schoolyard. I forget what for, but the teachers were kind of on our side or at least enjoying the disruption, because they would carefully heave the front line up on to their feet and escort them, one by one, to the entrance doors and back into school, at which point we would walk straight through, out the other side, and go rejoin the protest at the back. It all sort of petered out as lunchtime approached. Sad, isn't it, my best bit was an entire morning wasted, sitting cross-legged on bottom-numbing concrete.
And that’s me done.
As agreed, if five people comment using the words ‘interview me’ I will gladly do the honours.
Hello? Anybody there? Please?
Hormones - They know where you live!
Thanks to 'Anonymous', a friend that I strongly suspect of being involved in this site, for
Hahahahahahaha! So true. Every man should get a copy at age eleven, heck I think there should be a Boy Scout badge for the subject, preparation for manhood etc etc.
(P.S. Make sure your speakers are on).
Hahahahahahaha! So true. Every man should get a copy at age eleven, heck I think there should be a Boy Scout badge for the subject, preparation for manhood etc etc.
(P.S. Make sure your speakers are on).
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