Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Just a little crazy




Okay, so it is official.

I am losing my mind.

Here’s why….

It started innocently enough. Monday I toddled off to Waterstones. I bought two new books. I was really excited because the first book was the conclusion of a trilogy which we have been waiting for to come out here in the UK. The second book was one which I knew I owned previously but after a cursory glance (i.e. remove the first row of books to check out the second hidden row of books behind the first row) I concluded that I no longer owned this book and was quite happy to buy another copy.

I got home, clutching my treasures, crowing with joy. FG cast me a blank look after I showed off my shiny new books.

I quote the dialogue:-

Him: "Why did you buy that book?"
Me: "Cos I wanted to read it again."
Him: "But we have a copy."
Me: "No, we don't. I did look."
Him: "Yes we do."

He disappears around the corner corner into the lounge and appears instantly holding the older, grubbier version of my newly bought book. I shut my mouth and quietly put the new one back into the Waterstones packet.

Yesterday I go to return the book and snatch up the new Neil Gaiman book. Or so I thought. I got home and yet another blank look from FG.

“What?” I demand, irritated.
“You bought the wrong book,” he says, keeping calm, but grinning.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“No, seriously. This is American Gods. I thought you were buying Anansi Boys.”
And I go : “Oh shyte.”

I refuse to go back to Waterstones today. I am obviously mentally defunct this week.

Friday, November 25, 2005

Friday afternoon doldrums




OmG, how boring is this afternoon. Most of the team are in but there is little enough work to do (no one seems keen to do anything, either, big surprise there).

Maybe 80% of the people in the office are out – it is Friday, after all. I can barely keep my eyes open – the only reason I am not falling asleep is cos of my sore head.

I discovered that I have a soundcard attached to my computer. So, for about five minutes I was wild and reckless and listened to Virgin Radio turned just high enough in volume for a human to hear. Then I felt guilty and paranoid and turned it off again, for fear of prosecution by the dreaded IT Big Brother.

Woe.

Two hours to go.

Tick tock tick tock.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Pin-cushion


Yep. I have become one of the victims - I got stabbed with a needle today to be innoculated against the flu going around. Am I relieved? Was I worried about getting a cold? Not particularly but as I am one of the saddos who suffer from asthma and is therefore in the "risk" category, I got invited by my GP to join the paranoids, the OAP's and other "risk" catergoriests to be injected with a manmade cocktail of virulent flu anti-bodies.

Oh well.

I have to die of sumat!

Happy sub-zero tonight!

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Movie Magic



Tincan decided to post about Underworld over on his website and he was sallivating over Ms. Beckinsale. As I read it I wondered to myself "what movies impacted on me whilst growing up and even current day?" And I had to admit, thanks to loads of movies, I have many hangups...

a) Never bother to wonder what is that noise downstairs in the basement (thank you Texas Chainsaw Massacre).

b) Never think a scarecrow looks cool as it stands in the middle of a field (thank you Jeepers Creepers).

c) Never be tempted to go out camping in the Scottish Highlands (thank you Dog Soldiers).

d) Never pick a fight with the quiet Chinese guy in the corner (any Jet Li movie).

e) Always root for the opposition in Vampire movies (Underworld, Blade and Van Helsing).

f) Never eat cherries, ever again (thank you Witches of Eastwick)

g) Never stand infront of a mirror and say "Candyman" three times (Candyman).

h) Vin Diesel always wins the day (any Vin movie).

i) Milla Jovovich is indestructable and can beat up monsters five times bigger than her (Resident Evil 1 & 2) she is also the Fifth Element.

j) You can ride a shark to surface - after cutting yourself with a knife so that when he attacks you, you can punch it in the nose, grab its fin and have a free ride to to the surface(Tomb Raider 2)

k) Being on the Dark Side is cooler (Star Wars)

l) Being an idiot pilot savant will get you killed (Serenity)

m) Being a cop nets you good pay and a very cool apartment/boat/car (Witchblade/Miami Vice/Bad Boys)

n) All aliens are only ever interested in America and bad things only ever happen there(Independence Day/War of the Worlds/Twister/Core)

o. Cars always explode after they crash (any action movie)

p. Cops are rotten shots, which is why there are so many criminals as no one ever shoots one another dead/wounds anyone (any cop/cowboy movie)

q. Johnny Depp should be renamed Dorian Grey as he looks as spruce as he did back in Nightmare in Elm Street.

r. Never trust a hot chick if she shows interest in you (thank you Xmen and Species - from FG)

s. If you are ever on a spaceshuttle, never stop to investigate a distress signal from another "abandoned" space shuttle - blast it out of the sky and make sure you get far far away(thank you Alien and sequels).

t. If you are a cop, never take a new assignment when you know you are going to retire in a week (Lethal Weapon).

u. Always be a gobbypants baddie so that someone can overhear you and foil your plans (James Bond, Spy Kids, Johnny English etc.)

The list seems endless. Do feel free to add more.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Rhythmically Challenged



Friday night, in all our wisdom FG and I decided to go out with some colleagues from my work. We ended up at Tiger Tiger on Regent Street, upstairs at the bar.

It was a lovely evening - we had a few drinks, we laughed, we talked. And then we were amazed. Three chaps arrived, utterly assured of their prowess on the dance floor. We were, as I heard an Indian chappie say recently "smacked in the gob" by their antics on the dancefloor. We were amazed. Astounded. But not at all jealous.

I don't know if you have seen the "No bad dancing with Bacardi" advert but these chaps must have been participants in this advert. I kept looking around me for hidden cameras, sure that this was a piss-take. But alas, no, it wasn't. It was some ancient mating ritual brought back to life from the deepest recesses of Cro-Magnon Man's inner soul, and it mixed with too much booze and their own machismo - they were sure all women there wanted them, right there, right then. They were girating, doing the splits, grabbing girls as they walked past, rubbing against them - it was mind-boggling to watch. I was waiting for David Attenborough's voice to appear over my right shoulder, in my ear and it would have gone sumat like this:

"Here we have the mating ritual of the Drunken Office Worker. Watch him display his obvious masculinity by flexing his muscles as the young females move past. He realises that the more exotic the moves he makes, the better his chances are for capturing one of these delectible (sic) birds of the West End. Just look at those moves - unconcerned about his own image he would do whatever it takes for that necessary brush-up against one of the females. It is astounding. He has no sense of shame (or dress-sense or personal hygiene), so assured is he that tonight is the night."

As my one colleague's husband said when he came back from the little boy's room "I haven't seen so many nobs in one place, in all my life." He turned to look at us as we stared at him, smacked in the gob. He gestured to the dancing loons and whispered. "There was no one in the mens toilets, I am talking about this lot."

We understood completely.

The Man Who Sold the World




I so love this song. It is my ringtone on my phone (shoesh, no comments about personalised ringtones!) and I can listen to it all day long. In all its incarnations, Davie Bowie but especially the Nirvana unplugged version. I don't know what it is about this song, just such sheer longing in Cobain's voice when singing it, or the actual melody/tune whatever, it really does just "fit".

So, here are the lyrics!

Words and music by David Bowie.

Lyrics

We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago

Oh no, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World

I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazely stare at all the millions here
We must have died along, a long long time ago

Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the Man who Sold the World

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Commuter Hell


I sometimes wonder why day-trippers feel the need to travel into town on rush-hour trains. They invariably carry backpacks (not the blowing-up type, we hope), pushchairs and at least two howling kids, at the minimum. And then they tutt at rush-hour commuters who only have one goal in mind – get to the closest cafĂ© to buy the cappuccino so desperately needed to wake up and then get to the office to report for a day in hell.

Do these people not realise that they are a nuisance? That on rush-hour trains backpacks and pushchairs are not allowed? And nevermind the inconvenience of trying to climb over these things to an empty seat, you get to have Timmy and Byron or more poshly, Chardonay or little Britney trying to smear their dirty little paws on you, poop on you, spit and drool on you. Or howling for no reason at the top of their little lungs. Why, dear god, why are they allowed on the trains when all you want to do is either doze, read your book in peace or just relax before the chaos of a working day? Once in town, they get to push or carry or drag the howling demonettes around town for about three hours – shops only open at ten here, later on weekends. And by that time, (I don’t know about you, but my tolerance for going shopping is about an hour) these kids are even more upset cos its cold, its miserable and mommy just desperately needs to go and visit the stylish Lillywhites for that choice velour trackpants with the words – SAUCY – emblazoned in bright embroidery across the bum. Quality.

And then, in the evening, going home is sometimes, even worse. Not only do they disregard any kind of manners they might have dragged with them from their mud-holes, they expect to be treated as privileged citizens, as they struggle through the masses with their pushchairs, kids and numerous shopping bags.

I have, in anger, once confronted such a mom who needlessly barged along, pulling shrieking Timmy behind her and tugging her little trolley case behind her, physically knocking sideways and almost over, an elderly lady making her stately way to the platform. I saw this and reached out at the same time, to steady this old lady who was quite shaken by the encounter, dropping her bag, cane and travelcard in the process. I checked to make sure she was okay and ran after this stupid woman and when I confronted her and pointed out that if I didn’t catch this old lady she would no doubt have had to go to hospital, the careless mother glared at me and said “I don’t care. I need to get on the train. Everyone has been so rude to me today, I just don’t understand it.” To which I replied: “Maybe you should take the advice the LTA give out and not travel during peak hours with your bags and kids in tow. You should really be more careful how you treat others because one day you will be old and doddering and hopefully someone will knock you down.” She looked shocked at this and before she could say anything else, the elderly lady doddered up and took me by the arm and said “Thank you for being so kind – leave this stupid woman alone. She has no grace and was obviously brought up in a pigsty.” Even I was shocked at this statement and together the two of us walked away leaving the woman and her sniffling child at the doors of an open carriage. It was one of those really Hollywood moments where there just was no comeback from that at all.

So please, jobless day trippers with howling demonettes in tow – travel at your own time, not ours. We get to work all day so that you can stay at home and breed more unsavoury children which you don’t have the money or inclination to look after.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Fun things to do on a Saturday


I created, Igor!

See here:-
Much to FG's amusement I sat and worked all day on a range of goodies for some of my other sires and then created this one as he suggested I do something dark and dreary. I even "wrote" the poem myself. I am quite chuffed with me!

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Oh, hurrow!

I realised that things have been so hectic that there has been zero time for blogging. How sad? No more stories from the Hell Dimension, no interesting tales about fellow commuters as weird as the Trolls...or anything!
So, knowing that the world is out there, on the edge of a knife, just waiting for yet another amusing tale from my colourful life allow me to relate the tale of the FireDrill.
Yes, as sad as it is....I am a fire warden (one of maybe 6 on our floor; it is a large floor!) and on Monday we had to undergo a refresher course. And we had to give our teams names. Two teams; two names. What do you think we came up with? I was in Team B. Team A decided on the name "Firewall" - we did better than that. We were the "Bright Sparks". So, getting that under the belt and between wondering when the tea and cookies would be served and when would we be meeting any fit firemen (Mr. FG can stop giggling now, he is fascinated by Charlize, so I can be fascinated by firemen!) to watch them manhandle fire equipment, naturally, the refresher course continued. And, oh my god, it was so boring. What didn't help is that my team consisted of myself, ASAG (Another South African Girl) and a woman I think of as the Bag Lady, for the sake of this narrative.
ASAG, whilst being a sweet girl, was quite easy to annoy and she swiftly got irritated by Bag Lady being forward and answering all the questions. ASAG bided her time and eventually saw her chance and had to comment on how scary she found the sign for that little fire-alarm box that said "break glass" - she was worried about the glass cutting her finger. Yes. This was the intellectual heights of my team. I considered drowning myself in my cup of tea or choking to death on a digestive. But what stopped me is that I knew Bag Lady was also a first aider and if she had to come near me I would punch her lights out.
The refresher course only brought home the fact that - if there is fire, make a noise, get everyone out - I really shouldn't attend things like this. The sheer mindnumbing experience has stunted me personally. I had to alleviate this by watching Team America. Yet again. Only the best movie ever made.
******
Song quote from the movie, Team America:
I miss you more than Michael Bay missed the mark, When he made Pearl Harbor. / I miss you more than that movie missed the point, And that's an awful lot, girl. / And now, now you've gone away, And all I'm trying to say, is: Pearl Harbor sucked and I miss you. / I need you like Ben Affleck needs acting school, He was terrible in that film. / I need you like Cuba Gooding needed a bigger part, He's way better than Ben Affleck. / And now, all I can think about is your smile, and that shitty movie, too! Pearl Harbor sucked and I miss you. / Why does Michael Bay get to keep on making movies? / I guess Pearl Harbor sucked, just a little bit more than I miss you.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Paradise in the UK


I really had to giggle this morning when I listened to the news about this “cop” up North with his record amount of arrests. Over 300 “villains” under a year. But of course, this is here and he comes from a country where crime is rife because of – well, many reasons.

The reality of every day life in South Africa, from what I remember, was something like this:-

You don’t walk around on your own after dark, especially if you are female.

You don’t walk around, any time of the day, wearing jewellery, male or female.

You didn’t go and to the bank to draw money on your own.

You get taught how to shoot a gun by the time you hit your teens because no doubt your dad has a gun, so does your brother and your uncles and your neighbour.

You learn how to defend yourself, not because it is an “in” thing to do and a fun thing to keep fit, you do it because your life depends on it.

You never keep to the speed limit when driving. You never stop at traffic lights when its dark but slow down a bit, look left and right, and then just put your foot down and drive for fear of being hi-jacked.

There is a reason that the South African Police has such a reputation for being “hard” – as it is stated in this article, they get shot at everyday, threatened with horrible things and work in really harsh conditions.

My nephew-in-law is a member of the “Flying Squad” in Johannesburg – the Flying Squad are the people who get called in when things are really bad, basically the SWAT guys and they get to go into things like hostage situations, homicides and kidnappings. It terrifies me because he is married to my niece and they have a young family to look after, but he is never oblivious of the danger – because it is something that you grow up with and become used to, you just carry on with your piece and hope to make a difference.

Every single police station in SA has a barricade infront of it – huge sandbags to prevent thrown explosives. There are metal detectors when you enter their offices. They are basically a group of people under siege, that thin red line between crime that is becoming worse every day.

No wonder this chap, Mr. Coetzee is having such a blast up North. What is termed hard here is a bit farcical compared to the horrors he must have seen back in the day in Johannesburg.

By ANDREW PARKER – from the Sun newspaper


A FORMER South African policeman has smashed the British record for arrests — nabbing more than 300 villains in under a year.


Diederik Coetzee used to carry TWO guns and wear a bullet-proof vest on the streets of apartheid-era Johannesburg in his homeland.


Now he is bringing justice to the rundown Ladybrook estate at Mansfield, Notts, armed with CS gas, a baton and a mountain bike.
PC Coetzee, 48, crushed the previous Nottinghamshire best of 242 arrests in only seven months.
He is now on 309, having passed the old UK record of 305 with two months in hand.
Now he aims to top 380 collars by the end of this year and make it 400 in 2006.


The PC said: “It’s a joy getting up each morning for work. For me it really is a way of life.
“In South Africa I wore a bullet-proof vest and carried a shotgun and sidearm. I was shot at by car thieves and burglars on an almost daily basis. At least that doesn’t happen here. All I carry is a CS gas canister and a baton. So from a policing point of view it’s something like paradise.”


PC Coetzee spent 24 years as an explosives and dog handler in Johannesburg before emigrating eight years ago.


The married dad of two had to spend two years as a resident before he could return to policing.
Five years into his role as beat manager for Ladybrook, he has been hailed “Supercop” by delighted residents.


The superfit officer added: “I’ve got to know the criminals and they all know me. But they don’t try to run now, because they know I’ll catch them.


“The people tell me Ladybrook was a dump before I came here. It used to be a hotspot for drugs and car crime. But then I got down to work.”

Paradise, indeed! And people still ask us why we moved here...if that isn't proof, then I don't know what is!