Luce28's Stuff

Careful what you wish for ...

2006-02-26T17:34:00.000Z

Hmn ... It's been months since I updated this, I do apologise. I know some people do occasionally still pop in to see if I have anything to say, so hello you ...

Man I've been busy. And, I have to admit, I've been feeling a bit homesick lately. Which is a bit mad, as it's not something I've ever suggered from before. You can be homesick for a time rather than a place though, and I think that's what I've been suffering from. This time last year, life, whilst a LOT more boring, was a lot simpler. I knew where I was, where I was going, and how I'd planned to get there.

This year. Well, it's been busy. Really, madly, insanely busy. And I've turned into a slight workaholic. Which all my old bosses would find hilarious. I didn't realise you could actually care for a job so much. Well, at all really. The job I do, the company I work for, it's struggling to survive, and I worry a lot that I can't cope. My boss knows what my limitations are, and he hired me in spite of them, but recently I've become aware of all the stuff that I don't know. And I worry.

Having staff hs been an eye-opener too. So many things you can't say, so many things you're not supposed to ask. It's deeply confusing! I find it hard sometimes not to let their problems become my problems, but that's something I'm going to have to work on.

And I'm bored with only having work to talk about. So I'm going to make a concerted effort to talk about other things. Make up for example - there used to be a time when it was all I bought. I've bought maybe two lipsticks since I moved down south! Very strange. Of course, now that's occured to me, I'm wondering where all my money actually does go, but ...

It goes on beer of course.

Okay, so I'm down in London, I'm busy, and I'm - in the main - happy. Moving has definitely been the right thing for me to do. I just need to take some time now to look after myself as well as my job.

More soon.

Bloody Hell!

2005-11-30T10:21:00.000Z

Man, I've been busy. This new actually "working" in the office business is wearing me out!

But, I can't complain, it's a damn good job. Life is good at the moment, it's not perfect, but work is good, my new home is great and I've been out with my friends a lot. Well, loads, actually. Just don't ask about the speeddating. Or vampires. Mmmkay?

I arrive slightly chastened back at my blog today, as a lot of people have been complaining that I've not been updating it enough. I'm sorry! I hadn't realised people were still actually checking it! I'll try to be better, but, with Christmas AND year end coming up, it'll be a struggle. But I will make the effort, I swear.

I'll be announcing the categories for voting in the Second Annual Sparkly Awards tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled ...

Busy, busy, busy ...

2005-10-21T08:18:00.000Z

New job? Check.
New home? Check.

Too tired/knackered/busy to write much, but I will update this soon, I promise.

Just as soon as I get back from Glastonbury.

It's all good though. You'll see.

For Greg

2005-10-08T20:42:00.000Z

If you're reading this sweetie, stop now! Get back to work! I need a job, dammit!

Teary me ...

2005-10-08T18:02:00.000Z

Oh, I'm a little stressed out today. I'm attempting to get my entire life into a couple of suitcases. I've spent a large part of the day in tears, just staring at the things I've surrounded myself with over the years. I've spent the best part of a lifetime acquiring these things. Finding them, wanting them, loving them, and, of course *working* to pay for them!

Each of these things that I'm looking at represents a little part of me, of the self I've spent years trying to be, and, looking back on them with the aim that I'm going to discard a significant portion of them is making me think. And making me sad in the process. It’s like shedding a skin, when you’re not sure what lies beneath.

There's my collection of books, which numbers in the thousands, which I started collecting, it seems, almost from the day I learned to read. There's my collection of DVD's, which, scarily numbers in the hundreds now. Each of the books and discs represents hours of my life, spent trying to escape from the here and now, into some other reality. Was it wasted? Doubtful, I love reading, and I love tv and films, and I've learnt many things from them.

You can almost tick off what's been important to me in my life at certain points just looking at the seemingly haphazard way they're piled together. To me, there's a perfect sense there, a portrait of the obsessions, problems and delights I've been involved in/with over the years, some of it fascinating to anyone, some of it just plain weird, and some of it inexplicable, even to me, much less to people wondering just why War and Peace is piled under The Shops by India Knight....

Then there are my clothes. Fat clothes. Thin clothes. Party clothes, work clothes, clothes to sleep in, clothes to wear under clothes, clothes to show off the person wearing the clothes, clothes very definitely designed to make the person within appear invisible.

My jewellery collection, which taken as a whole most likely isn’t all that impressive, but it’s a physical reminder of all the places I’ve travelled, as I buy a piece of jewellery from every country I go to. I can open that box and be transported to every country I’ve ever visited, and some even that I’ve not been to yet – presents from people who know my love of silver and sparkly stones. There’s a memory attached to every single thing in there.

And I haven’t even started on the lipgloss yet. Although to an extent, that’s not so bound up in my own inner portrait of myself. Oddly. And I’ve been ruthlessly culling that particular part of me this year anyway. Many of my friends have been the recipients of various cosmetic mistakes in recent months.

So, I’m sat here with very little clue about what the future holds. Practically the only thing I know for certain is that it’s not going to be here. And, that’s something of a sad thought. My life, measured out as it is in items instead of children or good deeds or a wondrous career, hasn’t always gone the way I’ve expected it to. But for all that I don’t have the things I thought were important – a marriage, children, a mortgage, a Lamborghini, a dazzling career either as a financial analyst (yes, I’ve always been that sad, frankly) or a long distance lorry driver – when I was younger, it’s with mixed feelings that I leave this stage behind.

The future is bright, the future, frankly, is a bit scary.

Ch, Ch, Ch, Changes ...

2005-09-27T21:07:00.000Z

Life is changing at the moment, I'm changing myself, physically, through diet and exercise changes. I'm worrying if there's less of me to go around sometimes, as *things* are annoying me. Things I wouldn't normally give two figs about, but they're all tiny things, really, so I'm not intending to Go On about them.

I spoke about frustration earlier this week, and to an extent the frustrations that were plaguing me recently have gone away, only to be replaced by new and unusual situations. The job I hated is no more, discarded like a used tissue by the one person who really should have known better. But that's okay, as I REALLY hated that damn job. Another change, but this time, one I've had forced upon me rather than one I've initiated myself.

So, I'm looking for a new job, at a shiner, sparklier, more me place to work. I do actually like what I do, it's the only career I've ever actually returned to after all, and when it's going well, when the balance sheets know what they're doing, and the accruals work, then it's something I enjoy.

But where? That really is the question. I'm suffering currently from a glut of options, and I'm worrying now that I'm just going to panic myself into a frenzy of indecision. Should I stay here, should I finally move to thatLondon, I don't currently have a job wherever I am, but here, well, here is safe, here is home, here is me.

But is it the me I want to be? Is here causing me to want to change in the first place?

I'm scared. And worried, and oddly a bit more upset this evening than I was on the day I lost my job in the first place, which is freaking me out a bit. I was okay with this. I thought I was, anyway.

I'm going to sleep on it. What's the worst that could happen? I'd get a new job. That's nothing to be sniffed at.

Look Ma, I got cheekbones!

2005-09-27T18:56:00.000Z

Must stop noodling about with my digicam and get on with the bloody CV.

SPARKLY MUFF!

2005-09-23T21:27:00.000Z

See this things? They got me thrown out of Harvey Nichols, they did. Only £90 a pair, bargain!

Balls

2005-09-23T11:23:00.000Z

I lost my job today. It's a shock, and I'm a little upset, but it wasn't a surprise. Plus, I've hated it for a long time now anyway. It's a chance to move on, do a little thinking and reassess what I need to do with myself.

I've had a lot of phone calls, emails and offers of help, my friends are marvellous people. I have no idea right now what I'm going to do. But I have to do something. So that is what I will do. Very soon.

Why Weight?

2005-09-22T10:02:00.000Z

I'm sorry, I'm not entirely sure where this came from this morning, and I apologise for going on.

I am proud of my weight loss, and it is difficult, a lot more difficult than I expected, which I'm struggling with a lot. Finding out that I'm now one of "those" people who can't control their weight without medical help was a big blow to my confidence a couple of months ago. Having multinational corporations ringing you up every now and again specifically to discuss your bowel movements is also deeply surreal, but I digress slightly.

Last time I lost a lot of weight, I did it by doing as the nice people at Slimming World told me. I was very lucky, as it worked for me, and I didn't really have to increase my exercise a lot.

This time however, it's been a lot harder. Two stones in 9 months. I expected to have lost half as much again by now. And it frustrates me. It frustrates me a lot. Add that to a certain amount of frustration already present in my life, and this weight loss thing is sometimes like banging my head against a brick wall and not knowing why you're getting a headache.

It frustrates me because I have the pills, and the loss is still slow. I don't snack anymore. I read food labels convulsively, I don't eat anything that contains more than about 5% fat. And it's FUCKING BORING! I am training myself to love vegetables, and not get hungry after I eat fruit. But I'm not liking it. I eat well, and I eat lots, but it's not food I'm accustomed to eating, and it's not always food that I like.

But I'm making the sacrifice, because I have to. I think back to all those tears I cried in the doctors office a couple of months ago, and think if I crack now, then they will all have been shed in vain. And I'm sick of crying tears over things that upset me, and not doing anything about it. It's a stupid waste of time, and bodily fluids.

My life won't magically improve when I'm a size 12, I already know that, but if I can just stop myself thinking that the problems I have in my life right now are the fault of my notbeing a size 12, then things might just have a chance of changing.

Sheer Indolence

2005-09-21T16:34:00.000Z

I took a day off work yesterday. Not so unusual, you might think, but I'm temping these days, and somehow I've got into the habit of going to the office Every Single Day. Don't get paid when I'm not here, so, taking days off to do, well, nothing seems both hugely frivolous and a financial dead end.

That said though, I took yesterday off to so something really silly, and a bit out of character. I met some people from the internet - nothing new there, some of my bestest friends in the whole world started off as "nutters from the internet" at one point, and they're none the worse for that, better, in fact, sometimes. Then stood in a queue for several hours so I could buy a book. Then get the book signed by the celebrity what wrote it.

Now, I get my celebrity obsessions from time to time, don't get me wrong, but I'll usually limit my behaviour to tracking down all their films on DVD or mentioning them to my "nutters from the internet" friends (or NFTIF for short) once in a while. Taking a day off to go see them outside of the context of a performance or something, well that's just a bit, well, too obsessive for me.

But, I had a ball yesterday - once I'd stopped marvelling at the fact that I was very possibly the oldest woman in the bit of the queue I could see. The queuee's themselves were all very sweet and friendly (well, the ones in fancy dress were a bit odd, but hey ho, I'm a fine one to talk) and there was a great atmosphere there. And the man himself, well, he was very lovely and charming and, if I wasn't obsessed with him before - which I wasn't, actually - I am now. A little bit.

Shame the photo came out so crap. But never mind. It was nice to do something frivolous, nice to do something that didn't involve worrying about making a fool of myself for once, and just fucking NICE to be out of this hellhole I call an office.

I need a job with paid holidays, time off is great. Time off is precious. I want more.

Ooo Eeee Oooohhh

2005-09-11T21:10:00.000Z

Picture the scene:

You've crossed the Pennines, and Sheffield is proving itself to be a clusterfork to drive around, the directions your sister has provided for you are useless, and you're late. The Graduation ceremony you're in town for attending clashes with a party at the other end of the country you wanted to go to so you're not in the greatest of moods anyway.

Your older sister, who has finally managed to get her degree - after years of being envious of yours and snippy comments like "I'm the clever pretty one, you're just the one with the degree" - has demanded you have to be ready to do her hair and make up at a moment's notice, and you're acting as the day's photographer without anyone saying please. It's actually a surprisingly moving ceremony, and in spite of everything, you're really proud of your sister, and glad that you made the trip.

Then, after a chinese meal and lots of vodka for the graduation girl who seems to get more and more insane every time you see her, your younger sister - who's doing the driving - admits to suffering from a form of night blindness she's not bothered mentioning to the optician.

Then, you have to drive back home over the moors. And it's foggy. And it's pitch black. And it's fucking terrifying. Visibility less than two feet, no lights, and tiny, twisty turny roads. With a driver who's just admitted she can't, actually, see.

Yesterday was a funny day. Not horrible, but long periods of boring, interspersed with thoughts like "how did the one with the lipgloss fetish end up being the sane one?"

Sisters. They're great. Anyone need any? I've got loads.

Something to do with your eyes while I keep busy elsewhere ...

2005-09-06T14:10:00.000Z

So ... I've been writing again. Fiction mainly, and certainly nothing worth reproducing here, but it's a big step for me. I had a plan a few years ago that I was going to write a book, I had the main plot arc all worked out, I'd named the characters, I'd even done some of the research that was needed, and it was going to need a lot of research, as it was a subject I really knew nothing about, but at the same time I was fascinated by.

But somehow, as so often happens, life got in the way a bit. I'm not complaining, some good things have happened in the last four years, but quite a few bad things have, and it's hard keeping a place in your head for things imaginary when real life keeps sticking it's often ugly nose in.

My idea for the book still exists, and if anything, I think the plot makes more sense than ever in this increasingly panic-ridden and doom-mongering world. But will it ever get written? Who knows? I'll stick to my short stories at the moment, and if I ever produce one that I wouldn't be too embarrassed for someone to know I was responsible for it, I'll stick it here. Maybe.

In the meantime, what do people know about brainwashing? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Why worry?

2005-09-01T13:15:00.000Z

I feel weird. Sort of light-headed or heavy-souled or something. I know I've experienced a small amount of compassion fatigue lately. It's claimed - usually by charities worried that their donations have gone down - that compassion fatigue occurs when people stop caring. I contend it happens when people care too much. I think that's my problem at the moment.

A few people I know at the moment are troubled, and - I suppose in an attempt to ignore the sense of empty dreadfulness that my life seems to consist of at the moment - I've been worrying about them too much. My worry about them was beginning to worry me so much that I was finally worrying about my worrying. Then worrying if my worrying about my worrying was normal and if I should be worrying about the worrying about my worrying. Which, just reading those two sentences there, hurts my head even now. And it's looking worryingly (ha!) like something Charlie Kaufman would put in a screenplay, but hey, I'm digressing myself again.

So anyway, underneath my crabby Warth-ful exterior, there beats a heart of pure mush. Which cares about people. And has a slight tendency to get involved in their problems and ignoring my own. I love my friends dearly, but, I need to give myself a bit of a break. So, I'm withdrawing a bit for the sake of my mental health. There's a couple of people I can't cope with, because I can't help them, and I frustrate myself trying to get through to them on certain levels. And the amount of energy I expend on their problems to the detriment of my own isn't healthy. I don't care for them any less, but I need to care less generally. Which sounds awful written like that.

Not that I actually have any problems really, but still, I should be controlling the things I can, and NOT worrying about the things I can't. Now, of course, I'm worrying that I'm looking like a misanthrope in some circles because I'm refusing to deal with some people, but sod it. I'm here, I care about people, I just need to care about me for a while.

This existential crisis brought to you by Unthinking Males of The Species PLC (drunken division).

Hair Care - The sixties way ....

2005-08-28T15:34:00.000Z

Finding the right hairdresser is still a very real problem for most women and until they strike lucky, it can be a demoralising and expensive search. Trying out a new salon needs enough iron nerve to insist on finding out what the cost will be at the time of making the appointment so that there are no unpleasant shocks later

It is no good being told that trims are from 5/6d., restyles from 1gn., and so on. You must know the maximum as well as the minimum prices. And you must know what you want before getting into the chair, otherwise it is easy to be lead into all kinds of expensive extras.

The important thing to realise about hairdressing is that a good cut is the basis of everything. Search until you find a hairdresser who knows how to cut your hair so that it practically falls into shape of its own accord, then never let that hairdresser out of your life.

Once he has got your hair into shape – and this might take several months until it has grown to a workable length – go to him every three weeks for a trim, because no matter how good your hairstyle is, it won’t last if their hair is not well shaped.

A quarter of and inch too much can ruin the line completely, and since hair grows at the average rate of almost half an inch a month, hanging on for an extra two or three weeks before having a trim can make all the fatal difference.

John of Knightsbridge, who designed an easy to wear day into evening style especially for this book, says fine and thin hair should be kept as short as possible, but never layered, or it will look even thinner.

It should be clubbed, which is cut straight across, and kept fairly long on top and the sides. Only coarse or thick hair should be razor cut.

He uses light ale as a setting lotion, especially for fine hair, because it gives body without being sticky. He also recommends a lotion that coats the hair with a plastic solution and is made in three strengths for fine, dry or oily hair.

For hair that gets greasy quickly, he says the only remedy is frequent washing, twice or even three times a week if necessary, and this means choosing a hair style that you can set yourself in between visits to the hairdresser.

Reproduced from: The Daily Telegraph Beauty Book circa 1967
Author: Winifred Carr

Whoa! Who would have thought that the lovely, helpful and well-spoken Winifred would have turned into a hairdo-nazi? And as for John of Knightsbridge, well, I think the less said about the “easy to wear day into evening style” that demands three sizes of roller, setting lotion, two mirrors, three pairs of hands and seemingly, eyes in the back of your head to do, the better. Light ale! Cheers!

Making up for the evening.

2005-08-27T21:53:00.000Z

Basically, the routine for evening make up is the same as it is for the day, the differences are that the colours should be brighter and can be used more lavishly because they will be worn under artificial light and you can be as exotic as your personality, and the party you are going to, will allow.

There are a few general rules in choosing powder and lipstick colours for artificial light: a yellowish skin needs a powder with plenty of pink in it, but no hint of mauve or orchid. If you wear a beige shade of powder by day, choose a rosy-beige for evening. If you wear rachel-toned powders by day, have a rosier powder for evening or even one with a pale mauve cast. If you have a florid complexion, you can tone it down by using a green-tinted powder beneath a beige one containing just a hint of pink.

Artificial light drains orange toned lipsticks of their colour and deepens those with a lot of blue. Clear reds and pinks are best.

There are so many pretty-eyeshadow colours to choose from nowadays, it is unimaginative to use blue with blue eyes and green with brown. You can choose a shade to match or contrast with your dress for instance, or blend two colours at a time and, for extra glitter, add a streak of gold or silver.

It is the same with mascara colours too. Once they used to be in black or brown only, now you get a range of shades in brown, grey, green and blue, and, in addition, all those colours with an iridescent glitter. You can also buy gold and silver mascara for tipping the eyelashes on top of a plain mascara.

The new liquid eyeliners are better than pencils. The give a softer look and do not drag the skin when being applied or removed. Use them to draw a fine line at the base of the upper eyelashes and inside the lower lid, emphasising the outer corners and continuing with a slight upward curve to follow the outward sweep of the eyelashes.

Then apply cream or stick eyeshadow on the lids, smoothing it in to meet the liquid liner, and fading it out and up towards the eyebrows unless the bones beneath the brows are prominent. In this case you can make them less so by blending in a soft brown shadow cream instead of your usual foundation, and powdering over it.

For a final touch, lightly coat your little finger with powder, and gently press it over the lids to set the shadow.

When making up your mouth, outline it first with a darker colour, using a brush. Fill in with your evening shade of lipstick. Leave for a few minutes to set, then lightly blot with a tissue.

Reproduced from: The Daily Telegraph Beauty Book circa 1967
Author: Winifred Carr

That Champagne Feeling

2005-08-23T19:39:00.000Z

A woman without sparkle is like flat champagne. The best cosmetics in the world will not make her look attractive if she does not feel 100 per cent alive and kicking and have enough energy, mental as well as physical, to get her through the day.
Energy, like time is precious. And, like time, it seems to be getting scarcer and scarcer in our rushed modern times. “I really haven’t the time,” used to be the usual excuse for getting out of doing something that would need a little extra effort. Today you hear the excuse “Sorry, but I just don’t feel up to it,” almost as often, from every sport of person, young and should-be-energetic as well as the old.
This miserable feeling of being like a car engine that is not sparking on all plugs is almost a modern disease. It is one of the signs of stress caused not only by the space-age life but also, I believe by the tendency towards having all the physical effort taken out of our lives.
How often do we walk when there is a train, bus, Tube or car handy? Climb stairs when there is a lift? Spend and evening gardening or playing tennis when there is something we want to watch on television?
And think of the labour-saving devices we have to take the elbow grease out of housework – washing machines, vacuum cleaners, floor scrubbers and polishers, mixing machines, silicone polishes that only need spreading on, and drip dry fabrics.
But even more harmful than not having to exert ourselves physically is the wide-spread feeling that our lives are being regulated for us by others.
This is where you must realize that self-help is the only help that matters in the long run. And two of the best ways of helping yourself are learning to relax and how to be well-fed, which has a very different meaning from over-fed.
Once you succumb to this feeling of being half alive, apart from not being able to run your home or your job properly, you will soon start to find that your looks will suffer. You will start sleeping badly, probably begin to put on weight, and find that it is difficult to keep on make-up because your skin is losing its fresh, healthy texture and colour.
Experiments in the laboratory of one of England’s oldest and leading cosmetics firms have shown what havoc fatigue and tension can wreak on a normally good complexion. Sebaceous glands can become disturbed, causing excessive greasiness with all the beauty problems that this brings in train. Or the skin begins to look grey and lifeless and lose its natural elasticity.
So it is obvious that a pot of cream is not always enough to give you a clear complexion, not is a strict slimming diet the answer to overweight partly caused by constant tiredness.

Reproduced from: The Daily Telegraph Beauty Book circa 1967
Author: Winifred Carr

*****

I actually chose this article for reproduction because of the first line, many visitors here will know precisely why it was chosen! But, in actually reading it, dear Winifred actually talks a lot of sense here. If you don’t look after yourself, you won’t look your best, no matter who made the lipgloss you’re wearing. It’s a lesson it’s all to easy to forget these days, we who are our own worst enemies 90% of the time, refusing to give ourselves a break once in a while, and refusing to acknowledge that really, deep down, we’re actually nice people.

I was talking to someone this weekend, a nice person who wanted to tell me nice things about myself. It took them a good couple of hours to convince me that not only was I worth telling these things to, but I deserved to believe them as well. An odd lesson to learn in a pub of all places, but one I intend to try to put into action from now on.

You’re the only person you have to spend all your time with. Like yourself, other people will too. And you’ll look good and be able to run your job and home properly, apparently.

All quiet on the blogging front ...

2005-08-23T11:35:00.000Z

Yes, I know, I've been being terribly lazy recently. But it's a funny thing when Real Life gets in the way of your dearly beloved "internet life". There's been a few things going on recently that I'm not entirely comfortable revealing all about yet. We shall see. Nothing exciting, just "stuff".

Life does go on then, in spite of spending too much time online! Weight loss is still going okay, it's slowed down a bit, but that's not entirely unexpected. I've been going out a lot more recently too, which is unexpected and has been really rather lovely! But, I'm still stuck in a bit of a rut, workwise. That's my own fault though, so I'll just have to get my thumb from up my arse and get on with it, really.

I've been looking at my classic beauty book collection recently, and thinking that I had big plans for it earlier this year, now I've got a computer at home again, I'm going to look back into that. All those beautiful books - I finally have a full set of Kevyn Aucoins, whom I worship - all those tips and wisdom, and I've done so little with it! Sparkly Bits, or something similar will be back soon I think. I shall probably start with some wondrous snippets from the sixties ...

Back soon,
Luce
x

Pop quiz, hotshot!

2005-08-16T20:12:00.000Z

Okay, my glamorous assistant Sophster and I found this in Harvey Nichols the other week. Does anyone reading this know what the hell is it? It's about 18 inches long, appears to be made of man-made fibre, has buttons on the end, and cost a mere ONE HUNDRED POUNDS sterling.

Prizes will be offered for the most entertaining/original ideas.

Extra points too, if you figure out where the title of this post came from. Put on your thinking caps!

Quick Poll

2005-08-16T15:19:00.000Z

I need five words to describe myself, and I can't think of any that aren't too self-deprecating.

Help!

May The Warth be with you ...

2005-08-14T10:53:00.000Z

Okay, now it's fairly well known that I don't mind a bit of complaining every now and again. I freely admit it. But, and it's a big but, I try only to do it when it's warranted, usually by bad service from Big Business, who, you would think should really know better.

So far this year, I've had two brand new mobile phones from 02, owing to their lousy insurance scheme and diabolical follow-up customer service, which ended with me writing to the Chief Executive of the entire company and telling him what had happened. A free hair-colour, owing to chemical burns sustained on my face during a routine visit to a hairdresser, and a £20 or so refund from Costa Coffee for general incompetence and rudeness encountered in one of their stores - basically a store manager insisting that a large steamed milk should in fact be more expensive than any coffee based drink they have on the menu, I mean, eh? There's been a couple of other instances too, but nothing that's actually involved the use of letters.

Now, I've noticed that the only real way to get results is to complain, and complain properly. Big Business all too often these days think that customers are just numbers who affect the balance sheet. So, they cut corners, and think nothing of the people who are using their products, and/or services. It's time to put that right. To this effect, I've found this great website: http://www.howtocomplain.com/ that'll help you put it right if you've been ripped off, or just left feeling like crap for daring to be radical and actually use something provided by business.

You won't always get free stuff, but you will usually get an apology. Try it, make Big Business understand that customers are people too!

Luce28. Attempting to make the world a better place, via sheer bloodymindedness.

Creme de la Mer Update

2005-08-13T15:31:00.000Z

I've been using this stuff for the best part of a week now. I was given a "three day supply" by the most orange human being on the planet last week, shown how to apply it - rub it between the palms, then gently pat onto the skin instead of rubbing it in - and wished good luck.

Now, my first opinions on it were that it was just like Nivea. After a week of using it, my opinion hasn't changed. It is, was, and always shall be Just Like Nivea. And you know why? It practically IS Nivea! They even say so on the packaging!

The leaflet you get with the tiny pot is a masterpiece in subterfuge, double talk and complete and utter gobbledegook dressed up as "science" ... but it is, essentially, telling you that it is EXACTLY the same as every other moisturiser on the market! But, unless you read it carefully, it's practically impossible to tell.

I mean, it starts off with the words "Do you believe in miracles?", saying, essentially, that if you don't - which I don't - then the cream won't work. Hmn, interesting marketing ploy there, me lovelies!

Then there is a bit of guff about the man who invented it - incidentally the Creme de la Mer people are now part of the Estee Lauder Group, it's practically impossible these days to buy cosmetics that aren't part of this group in one way or another - and then it goes on about "the formula"

From here, I shall quote directly from the literature:

"There is nothing miraculous about the ingredients - (list of ingredients, read a nivea tin, you won't find anything different there) - For Huber, it wasn't the ingredients but the way those ingredients were distilled that made all the difference" then it continues in this vein, coming up with the concept that fermentation of chemicals equals a "Miracle Broth". Miracle Broth, of course being a registered trademark ...

Now, I'm all for this kind of thing, it's no secret that I'm something of a beauty product junkie, with somewhat, ah, obsessive qualities. But, please, let the product work! This is a heavy, lardy cream, nice-smelling, but overpriced and simply not worth it.

Now, if that means I can never work for Estee Lauder, well so be it.

Big Brother

2005-08-13T00:44:00.000Z

So, another personality-free zone won Big Brother last night. Now, ordinarily, I'm quite a fan of Big Brother, happy to watch it, happy to let it occupy the spaces in my brain that lipgloss doesn't quite fill, and happy to talk about it. Last year, for example, I got deeply emotional when Nadia won. Okay, I was in a pub at the time, drunk and a friend had made me cry about something else not ten minutes earlier, but it still counts.

This year however, even before the end of the show putting the contestants into the house, I knew I wasn't going to engage with it. Every single one of the contestants seemed such an extreme caricature, all-swearing, all-shouting, all-horrible, even more so than in recent years that I just couldn't bring myself to watch it again. And the women! Every single one of them thinking that having a large pair of breasts equalled having a "personality". Your breasts are not your personality dears, they're just mammary glands deary, now put them away.

I tell you, when the black, gay, fox-hunting tory seems like the only normal one among the bunch, well, there's something seriously wrong with the audition process.

Allegedly, Big Brother has psychiatrists to monitor the contestants progress and, indeed, preselect them for being suitable for life in the house in the first place. Were they taking a year off this year?

Early nights are bad for you

2005-08-10T14:04:00.000Z

I know this because I had one last night, and today I am exhausted.

I need coffee, but I've had coffee already today, and I'm scared I won't sleep tonight too if I have more.

Bum.

On another note, I'm testing Creme de la Mer face cream at the moment. Initial impressions: "just like Nivea". I'll give it another day or three and get back to you.

Whoo Hoo!

2005-08-05T22:26:00.000Z

I have a new computer! And what better way to celebrate, than with penguins? More drivel to follow.

Bridget Jones, my bum

2005-08-04T10:40:00.000Z

So, Bridget Jones is back. The Independent have resurrected a column which apparently defines an entire generation of ladies lives. The BBC this morning were describing Bridget as a "heroine for single women, everywhere".

Fuck. Off.

The original books and columns were a wonderful spoof on a lifestyle. Astute and perceptive about the shallowness of the concerns we choose to surround ourselves with in lieu of actually thinking about Real Things, and they were very, very, very funny. Well, till the second book, which was shit, but I digress. But a heroine for single women everywhere? I really don't think so.

The Bridget of the books does strike a chord, it's impossible to be a single woman in this day and age and not recognise parts of her thinking in your every day life, I'd suggest that even if you're not single, you've recognised bits of Bridget in yourself at some point. But, putting aside for the moment the tsunami of chick-lit Helen Fielding is somewhat responsible for, it's been somewhat inverted by the mass media when they talk about it.

She's not a role model, she's not a heroine, she's a spoof, a satire, a joke. Yes, she addresses some real issues about how women think, but, I think if you read the first book first it's entirely clear that she's not actually intended as this archetype of womanliness that the media seem to think.

I blame the films. Love Renee Zellweger though I do, she plays Bridget as an idiot. And it's this loveable dolt that we're meant to be aspiring to, apparently. Why? Why are the media assuming that women are taking this seriously? Hmph.

Appointment TV?

2005-08-03T10:10:00.000Z

I don't have an appointment TV series any more. For many, many years it was ER, and only ER. Then George Clooney left, and well, whilst I had an admiration for Dr Green it just wasn't the same. The last couple of series though, have been awful, I'm thinking that killing off Romano with a badly thought-out vengeful helicopter theme was really the death knell of that programme for me. Beautiful though Dr Kovacs may be, well, it's not substitute for plot, and characterisation is it? As for Dr Carter, well, you really don't want me to go there.

For a while, CSI filled the gap, but then Channel 5 started showing them out of order, and I kept seeing the same ones five or six times and missing the ones with all the back-story in and getting really confused - not that confusing me is especially difficult, if I'm being honest - so I invested in the DVD's. Which was great, till one weekend where I'd seen about 23 episodes in a row and thought I actually was a CSI till bedtime. That happened when I played The Sims once too, I had difficulty figuring out why I didn't have a bar chart following me round all the time telling me when I needed to eat, socialise or bathe. I don't play computer games any more.

There is nothing really on TV that I want to watch at the moment, I'm kind of a Instant Gratification sort of person, and settling down for an hour once a week to watch goings on doesn't really work for me. I'll watch an episode, like it, then instantly forget when it's on next and miss out. I've not seen more than one episode of Desperate Housewives, The West Wing, The Sopranos, Six Feet Under and so on. And, unless someone lends me the DVD's, it's unlikely I'll ever see any more of them.

I'm just re-reading this and all the TV series I'm mentioning here are American, I've noticed. Which is odd because looking at my DVD collection - which was ALL films when I started it - it's now mainly TV series. UK TV series at that. And, most of them fairly old, at least in televisual terms. Prime Suspect, Cracker, Comic Strip, Louis Theroux's Wild Weekends, Father Ted, Our Friends in the North, amidst quite a few others. Nothing too high-brow though, I'm thick, and don't like thinking too hard.

Where am I going with this? Oh yes, is television - UK television in particular - getting worse? What's wrong with it? Is the DVD back catalogue of old and "classic" TV killing off interest in what's actually showing at the moment? Or, is the TV's insistence on creating "reality" TV - in a world where actual events seem increasing "UN-real" - meaning that creating quality TV in of itself is anachronistic?

I don't mind bad telly. In fact, I rather like it. The trashier the better, but, I've stopped watching. Am I typical?

T'Internet ...

2005-08-01T15:05:00.000Z

... Is a funny place. I belong to an online community, and have done for far longer than I care to remember. Originally I joined because I have an interest in films, but my interest in things cinematic has been on the wane over the last year or two, so I defected to another, less filmic section of the community. But, in my "real life" I've kept in touch with quite a few of the people I met all those years ago.

Reading through other people's blogs, quite a few people have been writing about friends and friendship I notice, and it's been interesting to see which category I think I fit into when they've broken it down by criteria. I'm sure for some that I'm wrong on a couple of counts, but that's okay, I can live with being wrong. It's bound to happen sooner or later...

Anyway, I had some visitors over the weekend, and we were talking about "nutters from the internet" - like you do - when it dawned on us simultaneously that WE were all "nutters from the internet" at one time. My friends are my friends, no matter where or when I met them, as far as I'm concerned, some I've known longer than others, some are here, some I only really see online, but they're all "real", and, that's really all that matters.

It seems though, that my use of the word joyless - definition in context: "A person not currently experiencing joy" - to someone has upset them, and caused them to reconsider their membership of this community. Now, I'd written many, many words of sincerely-meant and heartfelt advice to this person. I've also written several blog posts in response to specific things said by this person, and every single one of them was intended to help, not harm. No offence was meant by my use of this word.

It was just used to illustrate that I thought I knew how this person was feeling - i.e. depressed and unable to experience the ordinary, every day pleasures of life, "joyless" in effect - and was NOT meant as a pejorative term. To imply anything negative about the personality of this person couldn't have been further from my mind at the time. Now, I cannot, and indeed will not, be responsible for what and how this person thinks, but it's given me some pause for thought, I have to admit. Depression is a funny subject, and if ONE word of the thousands that I've written on this subject to this person is the only one that's stuck, well, so be it. I'm not apologising for it, I wrote what I thought, and what I meant, and 99.9% of the people who know me realise that I tend to speak first and think later. I do wonder though, why it struck such a chord. If it hadn't meant something to the person reading it, wouldn't they still be with us, posting and joining in the joking?

I regret the outcome that word has had, possibly more than most people will suspect, so I'm writing this because I know I know she still reads this blog, at least sometimes. I know you read my post sweetheart, I hope you took the rest of it the way it was intended, and I hope things are better.

Weighty Matters once more ...

2005-07-25T14:13:00.000Z

Okay, so it's been a bit quiet on the blog front lately. It's not so much that I've had nothing to say but rather that I've had too much to think about, and no time to put my thoughts into order. There was the London bombings which caused much worry and stress, but I've been trying not to think about those. There was Hurricane Emily, which ruined my mother's holiday and nearly ruined my plans for what I was doing whilst she was on holiday (mainly abusing her hospitality by having friends to stay in her house, but I digress) and then there's the drugs ...

Regular readers will know I've been "battling" my weight for some time now, and it's been a long slow process. 14lbs off in seven months to be exact. Actually, written down like that, it looks less bad than it felt at times. But, it has been a struggle, and one that, at times, it just seemed too much trouble to continue with. I LIKE lard, dammit! But I don't like being lardy.

After yet another week where the scales stayed stuck, and I felt I couldn't continue looking like this, and worse, feeling like this, I finally enlisted some help of a professional kind. My doctor has prescribed Xenical, and I'm taking it religiously. Well, at every meal at least. It's decidedly not a miracle pill. It stops one third of the fat you consume from being absorbed by the intestine. And the main problem with that is, well, that the undigested fat has to go somewhere. Go on, google Xenical side effects, if you really want to know the details! Suffice to say, the effects of eating too much fat are Not Pleasant.

Basically, you can't eat more than about 12gms of fat in one go. That's not an awful lot. So, I'm being a bit of a food bore at the moment, but, I have to say it's given me discipline where before discipline was sorely lacking. And that's the good thing. If you have a sound reason to eat better, then dammit! eating better is what you'll do, or you'll pay the consequences. I lost four pounds in the first week - taking this years loss up to 18lbs in seven months - so, it must be working. Whether that's physical - through actual non-absorption of fat - or psychological - through forcing me to change my eating habits or else - I neither know, nor care at the moment. I hope it continues.

I do have to up my exercise at the moment though, that's proving to be the really hard part. What's a dyed in the wool couch potato to do?

I ain't dead!

2005-07-22T15:52:00.000Z

I've just had no internet access for over a week. It has been hell!

Anyway, just a quick post to say thank you to everyone who's been in touch over the last wee while checking I'm okay, and offering help, advice and ebooks to get me through my tough time in limboland.

I have great friends, you're all bloody lovely.

My name is Luce28 and I am an internet addict.

Normal sevice will be resumed next week.

The Camera Never Lies!

2005-07-11T15:01:00.000Z

Except when it does.

I've had quite a few photographs taken lately, and I look like I've been let out on a day pass in every single one of them. It's a nightmare. I have this picture of myself inside my head, and the reality of a photograph never matches up. Admittedly, I'm somewhat younger in my head than the outside of me would lead you to believe, but still, that silly grinning dumpling in the pics isn't ME!

Is it?

A Hellish Day

2005-07-07T15:02:00.000Z

I was going to write a post about facial massage today, but it doesn't seem the right time now.

Suffice it to say that terrible things have happened this morning, and, shallow though I may be, I'm not quite that shallow.

I've spent a good part of today feeling worried and sick on behalf of my friends in London, and helpless because I'm all the way up here, and there's nothing I could do anyway, even if I were nearer. I'm happy to report that the people I love are all okay, and it's a huge relief.

I'll comment more on the subject when I've had a chance to pull myself together. But for the time being, I'm blaming Bob Geldof.

How did you find me?

2005-07-06T10:08:00.000Z

Nedstat has this snazzy feature where you can have a look at the searches people do to find your website. Some of these over the months have had me smiling, laughing and, occasionally, scratching my head. Firstly, how do people think of some of these things to look for, and worse, how in hell did my site end up talking about them too?

A selection of some of the most recent and the most popular ....

"How to do Smokey Eyes" Apparently, this is the most popular search for landing on my site, there seems to be a dearth of easy to use step by step instructions of how to do make up on the internet, who would have thought? Glad to be of service though. Look out for a guide to facial massage shortly.

"Emergency Book Review" Those pesky kids, using the internet to do their homework for them, I don't know ...

"Victoria Principle (sic) Make Up" Oh, I never did!

"With a Perm" Look, it was the 80's, we all had them, it was fashion. My excuse and I'm sticking to it. I shall never tell the story about the mullet and the wet-look gel though.

"Lady bits" Honestly, I didn't realise I talked about them much. They're fine though, thank you for asking.

"Lose weight with pyjamas" Interesting. I wonder if I could get a book deal out of this?

"Prawns as pets" I do wonder about people, I really do. Of course, I am utterly confused as to what this says about me now, too.

"Women in chaps pic" I have a feeling that this person was sorely disappointed when they got here.

And finally, to all those people doing seaches for "naked David Walliams" and "naked Donal MacIntyre", you're sick. Sick, sick, sick. They're in the archives, next to "naked Louis Theroux" and "David Duchovny dressed only in a teacup" where I lfet them. Now, there's a series that needs reviving ...

I am NOT a crazy cat lady.

2005-07-05T14:56:00.000Z

(Enters stage left being prodded by people who wanted a cat-centric post today. Hmph)

I really, really, really want a kitten. I've even been offered a kitten today. But, seeing as I am somewhat deathly allergic to cats, it might not be the greatest idea in the world. Not to mention my living arrangements got a bit more cramped than usual this week.

Anyway, I used to have a cat. Eddy, his name was. Never let a psychology student name your cat (Eddy-puss, geddit?). Big and black and a bit of a bruiser, he ruled the roost with a rod of iron and a heart of purest stone. He died a couple of years ago, and he can never be replaced mainly because of the aforementioned allergies.

I left him for several years to work abroad in Greece, in Spain, off the coast of West Africa (okay, the Canary Islands), and the US, but he was always referred to as "Luce's BastardCat Eddy", especially by my mother. Okay, only by my mother, but you get the picture.

In that spirit, I offer you Jester's favourite memory of Eddy (or Eddy the Infamous Movie-Reviewing Cat as he became known in certain select circles, but that's a different story): "I will always remember fondly the day he growled at IckleBabySister28 and then attached himself to her legs with his claws while I ran around your mum’s house screaming"

That's the kind of cat he was. Hated people, liked watching telly. Bit like his owner really. Only I never tried to lick my own bum whilst watching Coronation Street with my grandmother.

Next week: Georgie, the budgerigar who masturbated himself to death.

I'm Sparkly and Frightened.

2005-07-01T10:35:00.000Z

I've been discussing my feet a lot lately - believe me, that's a big breakthrough in itself! - so, in the interests of fairness, I thought it only right and fitting that I list some of the other mentalist fears and phobias that the sparkly crew suffer from. In alphabetical order, because ranking them into order of mentalism is beyond me, I give you

The Sparkly phobias

Being tickled
Belly buttons
Body piercings
Bumblebees
Clifftops
Descending escalators
Eggs
Electricity pylons
Eyeballs
Falling out of a moving car
Feet
Ferns
Fire
Fluttering birds
Flying
Going down steep hills
Graphic/violent religious imagery
Haircuts
Hanging dry cleaning off your eye sockets
Lifts
Moths
Needles
Noses as snot collectors
Not having a phobia
Potholes
Slugs
Spiders
Spiral staircases
Urge to throw self off high places
Vertigo
Wasps
Wee footbridges over water
Worms

My foot phobia gets more normal by the day. It does, honest it does.

Writing that's real ...

2005-07-01T10:05:00.000Z

... An author you can believe in.

I saw this strapline on a poster this morning. I can't remember either the name of the book or the author is was promoting, so, as a marketing experience it's a spectacular failure, however, the tagline has had me thinking ever since.

Writing that's real.

Okay. I'm writing this, and you're reading it. I'm forming the words in my head, putting finger to keyboard, and hey presto! Real writing! Not magic writing, merely typed words fresh from the head of the person who thought of the precise order to put them in today. Whoo, aren't you impressed now? Not only am I thinking these words, but, you're thinking them now too. Just for the few seconds till you get to the end of this paragraph, when you'll promptly forget the bilge I'm actually saying, I'm here, literally controlling what you think ...

So how, exactly, is writing not "real"? And, why aren't more readers demanding real writing? Are they not aware that the publishing houses have been fobbing them off with "fake" writing all these years? Why aren't there more protests? Sod ending poverty, bring back REAL WRITING! It is, apparently, what we've been waiting for.

An author you can believe in

Okay, hands up all those people who don't believe in authors. Yup, thought as much. Authors do exist, so, what's the point of going around believing in them all of a sudden? Books appear, therefore authors must have produced them. It's like believing in, I don't know, tables or something. Believe what they write by all means - if you really, really, must - but don't go round believing in things that patently do exist, because, well, that's a waste of your brain.

Of course, should you wish to believe in me, all donations will be gratefully received.

Atkins, Schmatkins ...

2005-06-30T14:37:00.000Z

Oh look! Potatoes are a health food now. This makes me happy. I've been craving potatoes a lot lately - partially the reason why I look a bit like one no doubt, but I digress again. I've been craving them to the extent of actually buying some, cooking them, and eating them.

Normally with cravings I can resist them. At least for a little while, as I don't think cake actually is a food group. That can safely be ignored for a bit, but when you're craving veg it would seem churlish not to give in.

Bring on the chips!

I've been quiet on the diet front recently because things have slowed right down, but, I'm still trying to make a conscious effort to a) eat less and b) eat healthier. It's no always easy, particularly at those "special" times of the month, like now.

I crave carbohydrates. I dream of them sometimes, mash, chips, baked potatoes, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, pasta, bread, cereals, rice! All of them so wonderful, filling and soothing, and all of them frowned upon so badly these days. I try not to pay attention to food scares or fads too much, because if you believed everything you'd read, you'd never eat anything ever again.

But this is healthy potatoes! This is good news. I'm off to boil something in celebration.

Me feet!

2005-06-29T15:45:00.000Z

Are killing me. A chiropodist appointment two weeks ago, and they're all crudded up with dried skin again.

Which brings me to a dilemma. It's ignoring my feet that lets them get into this state, but it's my feet in this state that get my phobia going, so I can't deal with them. A vicious circle of unable to do anything!

That said, I've bought intense moisturiser and a thing to help remove the problem. And tonight, whilst looking at pretty pictures of A N Other actor via the medium of DVD, I intend to give myself a mini-pedicure. I'm feeling just a little sick and lightheaded just at the thought.

I am useless. And scared of feet.

Pee Emm Tee

2005-06-28T16:33:00.000Z

It must be that time of the month again. I'm tired, grumpy, a bit spotty and someone making a joke about the size of my make up bag (FFS!) made me cry this morning.

I need: A duvet, some painkillers, a supply of cake-based carbohydrate, a good book and a bottle of red wine.

Damn hormones. Outside of a hysterectomy - the one I ordered for my 21st birthday didn't arrive - what's the answer for coping?

You know you spend too much time in a department store when ...

2005-06-27T10:26:00.000Z

... the saleswomen know your first name ...

... they know where you work ...

... they know where you used to work ...

... they know you won't wear blue eyeshadow ...

... they know you only ever wear lipgloss ...

... they offer you a job.

And you think about it. Seriously.

A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a (hobby) horse!

2005-06-23T15:14:00.000Z

Funny, the more you stare at the word horse, the more wrong it looks.

Anyway, I'm struggling to redo my CV at the moment, and I'm foundering because I don't really have any hobbies outside of "pissing about on the internet", "buying things I don't actually need from eBay" and "being obsessed with Christopher Eccleston". None of which sound too fabulous on a professional CV apparently.

So, what defines a hobby?

Is a hobby having a more-than-passing interest in a minority subject? I am actually doing a bit of research on the history of cosmetics and images of conventional beauty throughout the (modern) ages at the moment, but I'm not sure what to actually do with the information I'm collecting. And, how does one make it not sound wanky on the CV if I do decided to admit to it publicly?

Is a hobby collecting things? In which case, I'm a collector of: lipgloss; DVD's bought because I fancied an actor in them; and books. My house is slowly morphing into a branch of a local lending library. At least, it would be, if I could bring myself to actually lend them to people. It's funny, if I do lend a book to someone I find myself having to read it again the very second it comes back into my possession. I don't know why, maybe I'm re-marking my territory, or making sure no one has stolen all the commas or something. Eccentric? Me? With my reputation?

Is a hobby doing stuff? If it is, then my hobby is work, because that's what I do in between updating this site, emailing my friends, searching for things to spend my wages on, and staring blankly into space. I've been perfecting my blank stare lately, it's getting pretty good I think. The "looking innocent when actually being the biggest bitch of all time" look still needs work though.

Does a hobby define who we are? I mean, I'm an accountant, do I actually need any more pigeonholing/sterotyping than that already? Admittedly, I'm an accountant who occasionally indulges in tattoos and body piercing, but still, won't my "hobbies" make me fit even more into a square hole? I shall put aside, for the moment, the fact that I'm an accountant who's crap at maths, because I think that's more of a skill than a hobby.

So, what's a hobby? What's yours? And, what in hell am I going to put on my CV?

Obsessed? Moi?

2005-06-20T13:26:00.000Z

Been a bit quiet lately, recovering from a week of excess, and work has been a bit busy.

I'm obsessed a bit lately, with two things. eBay, and Dr Who. I was planning on spending all day Saturday mourning the death of Dr Who, but then I wasn't all that engaged with the final episode, so I'm not that bothered. But, I am left wondering just what in hell I am going to do with my Saturday nights now it's finished.

You should never try and combine passions though, because, when you do that, you find things like:

Oh. My. God. My. Eyes!

Foot Alert!

2005-06-14T15:58:00.000Z

I have a foot phobia. I know I've mentioned it in passing before. It's only a mild one, I can deal with the fact that I have feet, and I don't mind the fact that other people have feet either, but, please don't talk to me about feet, don't touch my feet, and please, don't even think about me being in the same room if you have to do anything to your feet.

My feet mainly exist in a state of neglect, because I can't really bring myself to do much with them. Painting my toenails once in a blue moon is about as far as I'm willing to go. And sometimes, I'll see if I can pay someone else to do that. And even then I have to keep my eyes closed while they're doing anything down there.

This benign neglect though means that I don't actually have too many problems with my feet, a childhood policy of simply refusing to wear shoes at all, coupled with my inability to wear heels now means that I don't have a lot of the foot-related problems that many women my age do. But, I do have an appointment with the chiropodist tomorrow for some minor problems.

I feel a bit sick at the thought. Last time I went, I had to take a blindfold so I couldn't see what she was doing - and, rather more importantly so I couldn't see the tools she was about to use - and ask the woman to work in silence so I couldn't tense up in anticipation. None of it hurt, but I do have a tendency to kick-out as a reflex to having anyone anywhere near my feet.

So, if you're in the home town area tomorrow, and you see a slightly sweaty accountant looking shifty and a bit nauseated, you'll know where I've been.

There's lovely innit?

2005-06-13T12:25:00.000Z

Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely. Lovely.

Gah! I've come over all adjectively challenged. I won't use the word again, I promise.

Everything was though, that's the problem. And my brain is all hurty today, my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

Longest blog post EVAH.

2005-06-13T12:06:00.000Z

So, the big birthday extravaganza is almost over for another year. Today, I'm tired - so tired! - developing a cough, incubating a cold sore, paler than a vampire who's been rolling in flour, fuzzy haired and I'm wearing the Glasses of Doom.

But I don't care, because I've just had the best few days I can remember in quite some time. As I've said before, I don't usually look forward to birthdays at all, but this has been, without doubt, the best birthday since the year my mum got me my first pair of stilettos and I got to eat at a Beefeater Steakhouse for the first time ...

Thursday - A lunch with the lovely ladies from work who bought me wonderful shiny things, then refused to drink wine at the restaurant! And a family dinner, alongside the lovely and only slightly mad Jester who gave me a hatbox full of silly things and bits to unwrap. There was singing of Happy Birthday, and much swearing ensued ...

Friday - Took the train down to thatLondon with Diamante, and there was drinking of champagne and girly gossip for several hours, ending up with several people in the carriage wishing me Happy Birthday as we departed. I think we may have been a little, er, refreshed at one point. Ah well, who says thatLondoners aren't friendly though, eh?

Then a lovely tapas dinner (after a slight detour, a small amount a pisstaking from a policeman, a minor scrap about booking times, and an accusation of being "odd" from my hostess! But we got there, that's all that matters, and, I will never mention it again, ever, honest) with Passiflora, PrincessDuckling and Glitterbum, served by the waiter with the pertest buttocks in the Western Hemisphere. I'm never actually going to think about flutes (and other words beginning with F) in quite the same way again, thanks to Passi ... Oh, and if I hear the phrase "Tiny Gorillas" again, I may just bust a gut laughing!

Saturday The BIG day. Almost three months in the planning, and almost entirely stress free till about ten days beforehand too. You wouldn't have thought that organising a three location party, from 200 miles away, for nearly 30 people overall (most of them "Nutters from the internet" to boot) would have been entirely hassle free, but, compared to some things I've had to arrange in the past, it was relatively a doddle.

In the Savoy there was lots of champagne, lots of cakes and lots of teeny, teeny sandwiches, all delicious - well, if turkey and pineapple gets you going, they were - and lots and lots of presents. I was a bit embarrassed at one point when the pianist was playing Happy Birthday and ALL the sparklies decided to sing along, but, I managed to get over myself. Admittedly, the champagne helped. A lot.

Particular highlights were meeting Rinkydink, Hollygolightly, MrsTiggyWinkle, PinkPanther, Luzzegain, Uber, and the delightful YumYum for the first time, I sincerely hope it won't be the last. I also had a small lump-in-the-throat moment when I got to the hotel late, and everyone who was in the lobby waiting stood up and waved when I arrived. I am SUCH a big softy, it's not true, but it was a lovely way to be greeted anywhere.

The lovely Avonlea had inspired me to make a surprise for the guests, almost entirely unconsciously, it must be said! So, all the ladies at the tea received their own individual "brown paper packages, tied up with string" which I'd filled full of teeny sparkly things. Raindrops on roses being rather hard to find, and the international "whiskers on kittens" trade having being hounded out of existence by the animal rights brigade, brown paper and string were the only items I could get hold of down the Asda. But it was lovely to see people so surprised, and I'm glad I could do a little surprise something for the people who'd turned up to help make my day so special.

Small drama when the accountant in charge of proceedings (erm, me, actually) panicked when the bill arrived, I mean, £1,000 for TEA is what we in the finance industry refer to as A Lot. But, it's something I've not done before, and unless I win the lottery, it's unlikely to be something I'll do again!

Cocktails in Smollenskys was fun too, especially when we beleaguered the poor, poor waiter to give us our drinks for half price because there was a lot of us! Lots of lovely, girly chat going on in there, and a fair bit of cackling too. Nice to meet T7 and Wombat there, and we were joined by Adara too, which was lovely.

Then onto The final (official) destination of the day, where we had our own room, and own bit of bar, and we were joined by more people, who couldn't make it any earlier in the day. Much drinking was done, and you can tell by the progressive lack of details here that things may have been getting hazy by this point ...

Some of us even managed to stay out after we'd been thrown out of the bar too, which was fun, but I was ver' ver' drunk by this point, and I take NO responsibility for what may, or may not have been said at this point. Especially when Mullet and Avonlea find out that I seem to recall revealing my "big secret" from a couple of months ago to a couple of people. Ha ha!

Sunday was mainly spent recovering from hangovers - well, I don't get them, but I was very, er "tired", all day. A tiny bit of shopping, a little bit of Dr Who (not that bit, unfortunately, but nothing is perfect) and then a girly lunch where several people (okay, me and Thea) nearly laughed themselves SICK at certain politically incorrect impersonations that were going on.

All in all, about as perfect a birthday as can be. Many, many thanks to everyone who's been so lovely to me over the last few days, it's been wonderful, mainly because you guys are wonderful, I'm lucky to know you.

Next year though, someone else can organise it. ;)

And she's off!

2005-06-09T14:46:00.000Z

The train tickets are booked, the suitcase is packed, and Luce is off for her holidays this afternoon.

Okay, it's only a weekend away, and I'll be back on Monday, but it still counts.

Pictures of any shenanigans here soon ... if they're publishable ...

Doomaway!

2005-06-08T09:19:00.000Z

I've just re-read the last post. I'm actually in a damn good mood today, I should make that clear.

And you know why?

I have a weekend of parties and food ahead, that I've been planning for ages and I'm going to have fun, dammit.

Lots of it. Champagne and cakes ahoy!

The ego has landed ...

2005-06-08T09:10:00.000Z

Hmn. Some bright spark thinks having a blog makes you egotistical. Ha ha! Well, I am egotistical I suppose. Only in the sense of actually having an ego - like everyone else - as this place has never been somewhere where I've strived to constantly Big Myself Up, or pretend to be mysterious, like other blogs I have read.

I realise over the last couple of weeks that this place has strayed somewhat from how I envisioned it when I started it. Big plans, made all the smaller because of circumstances. Life has been a bit weird lately, it feels somewhat like I'm stuck in the middle of a series of events all waiting to happen at the same time, and I'm just waiting for the one that's going to topple all the others into submission.

I could, I suppose, be writing about how it feels to me to be waiting for a relative to die soon, as a release from all her ills, and how that's impacted on my life outside the family. Or, writing about how my father is suffering from the anxiety of waiting to see his wife undergo quadruple heart bypass surgery, whilst his mother lies shrunken, unable to communicate, not eating, from the after affects of a massive stroke after a lifetime of being the biggest baddest battleaxe this side of Ena Sharples.

I could also write about the frustrations of listening to a person unload some of their worries on a particular subject upon me over a period of time, only to stop talking at all when I mentioned that I might have worries on a related subject too.

Or, I could be writing about my unsatisfactory living situation, the crap job I'm doing, the small daily hells of being better at the job than my managers and having no outlet to show how good I could be if the situation were different.

But really, I don't want to.

Mainly because there ARE good things in my life too. My baby niece is talking now, and she's the most adorable, beautiful thing to have around when things aren't great. I have good, wonderful friends around who I can talk to about almost anything, and they remind me every single day that friendships are to be cherished and cared for, and appreciated because you never know what will happen. They also remind me that sometimes it's better to be thinking of other people instead of constantly thinking "Woe is me" just because it's easier.

And so, if I seem obsessed with new dresses, cakes, parties and shopping, all shallower crap than usual at the moment, remember this:

It's not because I can't think of other things.

It's not because I can't think of deeper things.

It's because concentrating on the small things that give pleasure can make the realities of living day to day more bearable. And I shan't apologise for it, simply because people think having a blog is only to make yourself look important.

Sometimes it's only to make yourself feel better.

Ooh ...

2005-06-07T14:55:00.000Z

Only two more days in the office this week. Whoo! Thank you train strike scheduled for this Friday, meaning I have to take the whole day off on my birthday instead of just the afternoon ...

I have now planned the perfect outfit after the dress disaster from eBay yesterday. It's something that people have seen before, but I'm dressing it up with new accessories.

Just the packing to sort out now. I hate packing. I hate having to think these kinds of things through, what if the weather is warm? What if it's cold? What if I lose my suitcase to a hoard of marauding elephants?

See, see what happens when I start thinking about stuff?

I could murder a pizza today too.

Ebay Blues

2005-06-06T09:32:00.000Z

I reactivated my ebay account recently, and bought a dress. A lovely dress, a dress that looks so wonderful on the hanger that I made the fatal mistake of thinking it would look wonderful on me.

It doesn't. It looks like the proverbial sack of spuds. Bah.

So, I either start hitting the shops this week praying that I find something suitable for Saturday, or, recycle something from my wardrobe that everyone has seen already. Well, it's an excuse to buy new accessories, I suppose!

In the meantime, you know anyone who wants a coffee brown wrap dress, you let me know.

Yawn ...

2005-06-04T18:28:00.000Z

Oh, I'm tired now, I went out on a work jolly last night, and very lovely it was too. We managed not to sit near the Directors and between the four of us from our department, we managed to charm the waiters into giving us more free drinks than we were meant to have.

Why is it that these days, when I drink, I simply cannot sleep afterwards? Normally I sleep like the proverbial log. Nothing, literally almost nothing, keeps me awake (except Night Nurse, oddly enough), I get my eight or nine hours every single night without fail, except if I've been drinking beforehand, when I'm lucky if I get four. So I've been up since five am.

That's not as bad as it might sound, as I get up at six normally anyway. These days though, I find it incredibly difficult to sleep past eight am even on days when I've not been drinking and don't have to get up.

Sometimes, I'd love a lie in, I really would.

But for now, I'm just waiting for Dr Who to start.

Countdown is commencing ...

2005-06-03T13:13:00.000Z

... It's a week to my birthday. Just think, one more week, then I'll be an entire year older.

I don't normally like birthdays. In fact, I usually dread them intensely. The sense of time passing, opportunities missed, and fuss. No, I'm not a good birthday girl at all. Usually.

This year is different, there's a big event planned, bigger than expected actually, and I'm looking forward to it hugely. Cakes, champagne, fancy hotels, a new dress to wear, even! And a proper birthday party with people I'm fond of around me. And no family members for once!

I love my family, but I've spent all my birthdays with them in the past, so this one is going to be different. Not better, but different.

Oh, it's so nice to have something to look forward to at the moment, everything in life has been a bit grey and dreary, and worrying lately. I'm looking forward to having my mind taken off things, and just being in the moment. Even if it's just for a little while.

Test post

2005-06-01T14:48:00.000Z

My blog keeps disappearing! What's going on?

Bitch from hell, oh yes I am ...

2005-06-01T14:26:00.000Z

I am a horrible person.

I dropped a friend today. Someone I've been very fond of, and has, in the past, made a big difference to my life. Someone I used to talk to a lot. But recently, we've just stopped, I don't know, connecting. There have been jokes gone awry, and it's been increasingly difficult to get hold of them when I've wanted - or needed - them. No replies to emails, no replies to text messages, nothing.

And then, when we have managed to speak, we've just irritated the crap out of each other. It's made me feel like this person thinks I'm an irritant for trying to keep in touch with them, and that, in turn has made me irritable with them. It's hard not to take certain things personally. Now, I know - intellectually - that this person doesn't really think this way, but, there comes a point in a relationship where you wonder if what you get out of your efforts is worth it. And I am a horrible person for deciding today that it wasn't.

I confided these feelings to the person involved, and they suggested that we call it quits. So I agreed. But I don't feel good about it. Life is too short to be bad friends, but it isn't too short to mourn the end of a friendship, if that's what it truly was. So I'm sorry for ending it, but I'm not sorry that we were friends in the first place.

I am a good friend. Sometimes, I think I should be a better one. I am a small person, my faults are many, and crimes of friendship are not insignificant, but the good friends I have at the moment, I cherish. At least, I'll try to.

Guilty confessions

2005-05-31T11:13:00.000Z

Hmn ... Aren't all confessions guilty?

Anyway! I've been doing a lot of reading lately, but it occured to me that, owing to a lousy education in the lower streams of an underfunded comprehensive in the North, I've not read any of the following:

Shakespeare
Dickens
Austen
et al

And I don't really want to start reading them now, just thinking about it makes my brain sweat. I spent most of my school reading career sneaking Stephen Kings and Jilly Coopers out of school library and reading them instead of the Harper Lee's, Steinbecks and Joan bloody Lingards we'd been set in English.

I am a philistine, and I don't care.

Ho hum ...

2005-05-24T15:56:00.000Z

I haven't had much to write about recently, life is a bit well, meh at the moment. I'm still struggling to lose weight, work is still driving me mad, I still haven't updated my CV properly - even though I've got some job applications going through! - and my nan is ill.

My face is all better though after the burn last week, so that's good news, and my birthday is only a couple of weeks away now, which means party time! I'm really looking forward to that! I've not had a proper birthday party since I was 8, and the last birthday event I held that had more friends than relatives present was when I was 13 ...

I need to find the perfect outfit now though. And I hate clothes shopping ...

You are feeling very sleepy ...

2005-05-20T16:05:00.000Z

Man, my blog has been pretty boring this week, I apologise. I've been busy at work and somewhat pre-occupied with, well, stuff.

No excuses really, I'll make an extra effort to be interesting next week. Promise.

Still it's the Eurovision Song Contest tomorrow, and it's bound to be far more entertaining than the General Election coverage, so I'm looking forward to it a great deal more than might be considered healthy!

Thank crap it's Friday ...

Me and my ugly mug.

2005-05-19T13:38:00.000Z

My face is beginning to piss me off now.

The red marks on my face from the chemical burns at the hairdresser have faded, and so it looks like I just have massive dirty marks on my face. The marks are crinkly and look suspiciously like it does when you have had a nasty sunburn and the skin is about to peel. I don't think I can handle a peely face... The skin on my hairline is looking all scaly and flaky too. You can call me Godzilla, I won't mind. You'll be dead, but I won't mind.

The salon suggested I see a doctor when I went to see them to let them know what had happened. So I did, and basically I have to keep it moisturised, and out of the sun. I wasn't offered a refund or anything by the salon. I was a bit annoyed by this, so I've sent them one of my letters.

We'll see what happens next. I feel a bit like quasimodo at the moment. I had accidental dental surgery on Monday, so I'm a bit bruised and battered after that too.

Normal service will be resumed shortly!

I'll most likely get killed for saying this ...

2005-05-18T09:27:00.000Z

So. Kylie Minogue has breast cancer. Very sad news indeed, especially as she has it so young. This kind of news does make you worry somewhat. I've had two breast cancer scares in the last fifteen years and I have to say, they're terrifying. Luckily, both times it turned out to be something insignificant - a cyst the first time, and an inflamed duct the second - but that doesn't stop The Fear occuring to you whilst you're waiting for results and things.

My doctors were very good, and the news was handled sensitively, and surprisingly quickly, but it doesn't stop the night before those initial appointments with the doctors from being some of the scariest nights I've spent in my life. You review all the stuff you've done, and worry about all the stuff you assume you're not going to get to do now. We get so used to thinking of cancer as being fatal, that you automatically - and everyone around you will do the same - feel like you've been handed a death sentence. It's ridiculous, when you think about it logically afterwards.

Obviously, I'd urge everyone to check themselves regularly, and if they find anything, to see a doctor. Apparently, nine times out of ten, lumps and so on are harmless, but you won't know this unless you ask for help.

Back to Kylie though. Whilst it's sad news, why is it on the front page of every single newspaper in the country today? Why has it been the lead item on every single news bulletin I've seen or heard in the last 24 hours? Why are people queuing up to pay tributes to her, and her "battle" with cancer? She's "starting the fight" today apparently. Olivia Newton John visited her yesterday and they were "consoling" each other according to one report. What is it with female Aussie pop singers and cancer anyway?

Now, shoot me if you wish, but why is the health of one diminuitive popstrel deemed to be the Most Important News Happening On The Planet? She's not dead, she's not actually all that likely to die - breast cancer survival rates in the Western world being as high as they are, especially when caught early, as this apparently has been. Frankly, whilst it's a tragedy for her, and her family, in the grand scheme of things, well, it's not that important, is it? Did nothing else of interest at all happen on the planet yesterday? Has the media become so obsessed with celebrity that the nipples of a pop star have wiped all other happenings off the face of the news this week? Why is this?

I just hope that this news encourages women to examine themselves and seek help if they need it. There is no shame in seeking a medical opinion if you need one, but I hope the Kylie media circus stops broadcasting 24 hours a day on the matter, for her sake and ours.

Faceache

2005-05-16T11:27:00.000Z

I have spent the morning lying prone in a padded
leather chair. Lying prone in a padded leather chair,
whilst a good-looking young man wearing rubber gloves
and carrying forceps tortured me. Then I paid him for
the privilege.

Honestly, why do we let dentists get away
with being sadists? There should be laws about this
kind of thing. I don't care how foxy my dentist is,
the point remains that he's a sadist, and I hate him
now.

So I'm minus a tooth, I have chemical burns down the
side of my face where my hairdresser got carried away
with the stain-remover stuff, and I'm not in a good
mood. I really shouldn't have come to work today.

The Whistly Guy Saga Once More ...

2005-05-13T09:50:00.000Z

Aww, bless him, he's leaving today. I'm going to miss him in an odd kind of way.

I am also going to think I've gone deaf.

Flipping heck.

2005-05-12T14:01:00.000Z

I have done the grand total of no work this week. Mainly because I have been piddling about on the internet.

I want a job where piddling about on the internet is a core skill. I'd be aces. And indeed, skill.

Freak Deaky!

2005-05-11T09:40:00.000Z

Was talking yesterday - in a roundabout fashion - about an ex of mine. I don't talk about him often, I've not seen him in years, and he was unexpectedly brought up in a conversational tangent, like these things often are.

Then last night, he texts me! Totally out of the blue. Innocuous chitchat to be sure, but I've not heard from him in a year, maybe two.

Freaked me out a bit, so it did.

Weighty Matters - Part the Somethingth.

2005-05-10T14:06:00.000Z

A couple of people have asked me if I've lost weight recently. This is great because, if I'm being honest, I was beginning to lose heart with the S L O W process of peeling off again the weight I've been steadily packing on over the last couple of years.

Hopefully, if the results of the last four months are now visible to others, it'll make it easier to carry it on. I know I've been slipping a lot lately, and kidding myself that I'll "make up for it" later. I have been better than I was - the weight I've lost so far this year is still off - but, I've been dispirited with it, as I don't think I look any different.

Brain Candy

2005-05-09T15:03:00.000Z

I read. I read a lot. I'll read anything, I'm not proud. I read fast though, that's my problem, so I'm constantly looking for things to read.

I like reading magazines, especially Heat. Heat drives me potty. It's fully of pictures, and, if I'm concentrating, I can actually read the entire magazine in 20 minutes or less. And that's including the answers to the question on the masthead.

The other week, they had an article saying that men preferred curvy women to skinny women (forgive me, but, like, durr), and this week's burning question was what would be your platform for election, and one lovely, lovely person said that it would be a "tax on fat people". And it was a woman, at that. I think she should be forced into a corner, beaten the crap out of, then forced to eat McDonalds until she blows up to the size of Michelle McManus.

I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't read Heat if it annoys me so much, but where else am I going to get all my news on the issues that really matter? Like is Becks really an alien from the planet Ming? Is Geri really not a waste of space? Is Robbie ever going to get his head from up his arse?

I have only two books left in my To Be Read Pile (both Christopher Brookmyre, who I've recently discovered) anyone got an recommendations for good, absorbing and/or funny reads? Please, save me from the curse of Heat magazine! It'll be Take A Break and Women's Own next ...

Thanks!

A week in review ...

2005-05-07T21:50:00.000Z

What a week this has been. I've spent most of it paranoid for one reason or another that I'm going to lose my job which I am, but not for a little while at least, and not unexpectedly, so that's a good thing, I'll have time to sort out my replacement post in thatLondon. I've also spent a lot of time angry with the management of the company that I work for, owing to some appallingly bad judgement calls they've made recently.

Ordinarily, if you see unjust things happening, or people piss you off, you can do something. Let people know, or register your displeasure, or just plain have a good bitch behind someone's back. But, what to do when politics means that you can't legitimately have an outlet for your problem? Or, that doing something about it means that you could jeopardise your livelihood? Put it this way, if I was a customer of this company that I work for, and I'd been treated the way some people think it's okay to treat other people when they're not around to help themselves, I'd have kicked up a major stink about it. Managers should realise that the people who work for them - and with - them, are their internal customers. I'll do something about this, I'm just not entirely sure what at the moment.

Had lunch with the Ducklings on Tuesday, was absolutely fantastic to see them both on their whistlestop tour of the North West! I'm looking forward to seeing at least PrincessDuckling again in June ...

I'm having a lovely peaceful time here on my housesit, I was worried I'd be a bit bored, so I set fire to the kitchen earlier just to alleviate any potential boredom symptoms! Very small fire, no real damage (except to my mental image of myself as a gourmet chef), but I do need to buy some brillo pads and some meat tenderiser at some point to cover my tracks. All hail Kim and Aggie! Still, serves me right trying to cook adventurous stuff whilst hungover ...

Tomorrow will be a pyjama's and watching crap on the telly day, I'm looking forward to it. I may sneak out and buy the papers, but I wouldn't count on it.

Rut? What rut?

2005-05-05T16:07:00.000Z

I have moved house this week, I have moved offices this week, and it's General Election day, so at least, nothing will change there.

I'm a bit befuddled today, everything is different, and yet all is still the same. I need a new job. And quite possibly, a lie down. I'm meeting with the boss tomorrow to find out what's going on with my position here. Eek!

In the meantime, don't forget to vote. People died so you'd have the opportunity to do it, don't let them have done it in vain.

Handy hints

2005-05-04T14:40:00.000Z

Just little oddments of info I can't make an entire post out of in themselves ...

If you're getting a facial, always check out the skin of the person who'll be treating you. If they have bad skin, don't make the appointment! Generally, facialists use their own products, if they don't work for them, they're unlikely to work for you.

Never accept recommendations for colours to suit you from someone wearing black lipliner.

Don't use cheap black hair dye if you're over the age of 25.

If you use those liquid cheekstains (Benetint, etc) you'll find them easier to apply if you dot the product on the finger you use to blend it, rather than straight on the cheek itself.

To find your perfect lip colour, try all your lipsticks out when not wearing any other make up at all. The one that still suits your naked skin is your ideal colour. There will be one, and the results will surprise you. Don't let it stop you wearing other colours though.

Colours from the opposite end of the spectrum will work best for bringing out your eye colour. If your eyes are hazel or green, try purples and violets. Blue and grey eyes should try browns, and brown eyed people should try greys. Nudes, or shimmering metallics will work well on all people, usually.

Always buy the most expensive foundation you can afford. More expensive formulations contain higher densities of pigment, and will cover better. It's the staple of your make up bag, so the better it looks, the better you look.

If you want to try a colour and you're not sure it'll suit you, buy it from one of the cheaper ranges, then if it doesn't suit you, you haven't wasted too much cash.

Pencils will sharpen better if you pop them into the fridge for half an hour or so first.

Eyecream, used straight from the fridge, will make your eyes much less puffy than if it's used at room temperature. Keep your nail varnish in there too, it lasts longer.

Soap, if stored in the airing cupboard before use, will last longer for some reason.

If you use the hot cloth method to clean your face, be sure to give your lips a tiny scrub too, it'll get rid of any scaly bits. Apply lipbalm straight after though.

ALWAYS exfoliate before using fake tan. And, if people start asking you all of a sudden if you've started using fake tan, then you know you've overdone it.

If you're not sure about a purchase, don't make it there and then. Go away and do something else for a couple of hours. If it doesn't come back to your thoughts by the next day, you didn't really want it in the first place.

Any more?

Sparkly Bits 03/05/05 - Dr Who

2005-05-03T21:52:00.000Z

Dr Wooooo

ha ha!

2005-05-03T21:20:00.000Z

I'm sat on the floor, watching CSI, drinking wine someone else bought - it would have turned to vinegar else, and FINALLY surfing the internet again of an evening!

Cupboards have been investigated, my laundry is doing a tour of duty in the washing machine I can't figure out how to work, and I've moved my clothes into the floordrobe in the master bedroom ...

Yes, the house sitting has begun! We shall do well here ...

She was real tiny when she was littler ...

2005-04-29T09:52:00.000Z

I watched Supersize Me last night. It managed to be fascinating whilst not saying anything astoundingly new. I've been interested in food, food production, and the mass marketing of processed foods for a while now, I suggest you read Fast Food Nation, Shopped, Not On The Label and Branded for further insights, if it's something you're interested in yourself. Author's names will follow, I'm not entirely awake yet ...

Now, I know that Jamie Oliver has been causing a stir about nutrition in this country recently, but as I don't have children - and really don't intend to have them - I haven't really been able to work myself up into a frenzy about the subject. Plus, the debate over here, centering as it does on school meals isn't one I feel qualified to comment on. BUT, watching Supersize Me last night opened my eyes to a few things.

The title of today's post comes from a line spoken by one of the mothers of an overweight teen interviewed for the film, who's child had gone on to say that she couldn't lose weight because she couldn't afford to buy Subway low-fat sandwiches twice a day. It hadn't occured to either her or her mother that they could make low fat sandwiches at any point ...

So sad, and heartbreaking. Obesity, if you read regularly, is a subject close to my heart. After all, I can't entirely hide my weight problem. It becomes increasingly difficult to buy food in supermarkets that hasn't been processed in some way. The fresh fruits and vegetables you find are under-ripe, over priced, and out of season. Ready meals are full of ingredients you can't pronounce and wouldn't find in a normal kitchen, and sadly, it's easier - and usually cheaper - to buy a couple of those, bung them in the microwave and pretend that you've "cooked" than it is to actually physically cook something for yourself.

I took a look in my high street the other day, alongside the something like 10 kebab outlets, there's a KFC, a MacDonalds, a Domino's pizza, two Indian restaurants, and two Chinese takeaways. No greengrocer, and no butcher. There is also no restaurant that serves food cooked on the premises. Pub food galore, if you like your pub grub fresh from the freezer, that is. So, while I was laughing at the Stoopid Americans for not knowing how to make their own sandwiches last night, I was also wondering how much of this laziness was behind my own weight problem. And the answer is a lot.

I don't make sandwiches if I can buy them instead, I don't cook things from scratch if I can possibly help it, white bread, white pasta, white rice have always been my foods of choice. I'm trying to change at the moment. I've given up ready meals, have eaten fast food maybe once this year (drunk, I might not actually need to add) I only eat chocolate once a week or so, and wholemeal bread is my new friend. In the last couple of months, I have lost weight. It's not been easy. It's going to continue not to be easy especially when I have to walk past KFC two or three times a day, and, frankly, I love the stuff. DIsgusting though I know it to be, it tastes so damn good.

I guess the moral of this post is: learn to make your own sandwiches. You never know who's going to be laughing at you if you don't.

Conditioner

2005-04-28T11:56:00.000Z

I've stopped using hair conditioner recently. It started a few weeks ago when I accidentally forgot to use it in the shower (Honestly, absent minded isn't in it these days, I think I'm developing Alzheimers) and my hair felt just the same as always after it.

Since then, I've used it maybe twice, and each time, it's made my hair - which is dry, coloured, naturally curly and prone to frizz since you didn't ask - worse rather than better.

Is conditioner a con?

Whoo hoo!

2005-04-27T00:04:00.000Z

I've had a busy morning, birthday parties to arrange, deposits to be paid to swanky hotels (greedy money grabbing gits) and phone numbers typed out wrongly. Honestly, if I had a brain, I'd be dangerous ...

And I'm going on a little holiday. Well, not exactly, but some friends of mine are, and I'm going to be house sitting. A place of mine own, for two entire weeks!

I fully intend to claim squatters rights on their return to the UK ...

Jobhunting ...

2005-04-26T00:23:00.000Z

Okay, so. I'm trying to update my CV, and therefore am currently wondering what it is that I actually do to fill my days. I suspect telling the truth (pissing about on the internet, and fantasising about rugger players in lipgloss) won't lead to too many job offers ...

What I really need is some help in finding agencies for financial-type bods in thatLondon, can anyone help? I need to do some real job searching soon I think, and, well, aside from getting registered with agencies, I don't really know where to start!

Any ideas?

Doctor Fear

2005-04-25T12:25:00.000Z

Going to the doctor can be scary. Going to the doctor with a symptom you've convinced yourself is serious can be bloody terrifying.

I have had five major healthscares in life:

When I was 5, the muscles in the back of my left eye collapsed, leading doctors to think that I'd had a massive brain haemorrhage, or a stroke, or a tumour.

When I was 16, once again, I had a suspected brain tumour.

When I was 19 I found a lump in my breast.

When I was 22, it was suspected that I had bowel cancer.

When I was 30 I found a second lump, in the same breast that I'd had a lump in previously.

With the exception of when I was 5 - and therefore too young to know any different - each of these situations was, without a doubt, terrifying. There were sleepless nights, worry beyond compare, tears and unbelievable amounts of stress.

The only way I could deal with any of these situations was to see a doctor. In all the situations above I'd talked to people about my symptoms, and been offered advice - conflicting, usually - and support, but in all cases, the major piece of advice was the same, SEE THE DOCTOR.

It is only because I took that advice that I know that I have never had cancer, in my brain, in my bowels, or in my breast. All these problems that I had looked serious - and in some cases they were - but ultimately, none were as bad as they looked, and all have been fixed. But that worry, stress and strain that I unnecessarily put myself through at the time has never gone away. So now, when I'm ill, I go see the doctor, because, quite frankly, nothing your doctor can tell you is as scary as the things you tell yourself when you don't know.

There's nothing wrong with me now. It's debatable I realise! But don't be scared of the doctor, you have nothing to lose but your fears.

Sparkly Bits 25/04/05 - Dry, flaky, sensitive skin

2005-04-25T11:02:00.000Z

I have dry, sensitive flaky skin, and I've suffered with it for years, buying ever more expensive, and heavy, moisturisers to try and deal with the problem. This, I've since found, is a shortcut to adult acne, which is never the greatest look.

I have solved the problem somewhat though, mainly by changing my cleansing routine, and using a lighter moisturiser. The routine is as follows:

Required

Cleanser of choice - oil, bar, cream, balm, foam (one note, if your skin is sensitive all the time, and is dry as a matter of course, then please, please please, do not use a foaming cleanser under any circumstances, the vast majority - even the ones for sensitive skin - will contain Sodium Laurel Sulphate, and this is horrendous for causing irritation. The others tend to be too harsh too) or whichever type works best for you.
Muslin cloth - available from the baby care department of Boots, or at a pinch, a soft towelling face cloth will do.
Hot water - as warm as your hand can stand. Too hot, and you'll break capillaries in your face.
Moisturiser of choice

Method

Apply cleanser to lightly dampened face, and massage face lightly with your fingertips. Have your muslin cloth soaking in the hot water while this is happening. The Eve Lom website has instructions on how to do this and give yourself a lymphatic massage at the same time, but it's not necessary for every day cleansing.

Once your face is thoroughly covered, wring out your cloth, shake it out and press it to your entire face. Hold it over your face for a few seconds, breathing in the steam, then repeat. Repeat once more (three times in total).

Once more, rinse your cloth in the hot water. Wring out, and start removing what remains of the cleanser from your face using small circular motions, until all traces of cleanser are removed from your face. Rinse your cloth in slightly cooler water this time, apply to the face as before and hold for a few seconds. Pat your face dry gently.

Apply your mosituriser as normal. You should notice straightaway that your face feels a lot smoother and softer, and, if used regularly - ie, every time you cleanse - you'll never have flaky skin again!

When good typists go bad ...

2005-04-21T16:30:00.000Z

Someone accidentally announced to the world that I was 45 today. She's dead now.

Rawwwrrrr ... 2

2005-04-20T16:00:00.000Z

Okay, I went away and did me some thinking, and this is what I came up with, (with just a little help from my friends):

I am capable of intense concentration when needed.

I am not afraid to be silly

I'm sensitive - and sympathetic - to other people and their feelings.

I'm not afraid to apologise.

I will stand up for what is right when I have to.

I will always point out another person's good points when they need reminding how special they are.

Little things, like a sunny day or the smile of my baby niece make me happy

I never mock someone else when they're having a problem, no matter how small. And, if I can help, I do.

I'm a good listener.

I have great hair.

I inspired a lot of other people to start blogs.

I rock

Heck, I'm not such a bad person.

Rawwwrrrr ...

2005-04-19T14:45:00.000Z

Inspired by HellyBelly's rejection of women being their own worst enemies (see post here: I am Woman) and having been chided more than once today by the Sparkly Pink Princess for being too self deprecating, I'm going to attempt to sing my own praises ...

Here goes nothing ...

I Am
Funny
Handy with eyeliner brush

I Can
Balance spreadsheets

Oh man, I've got so used to thinking of all the things that I'm not, all the things that I undoubtedly am but which are actually negative, and concentrating maybe too hard on all the things that I want to be at some unspecified date in the future that I don't think I honestly know what my good points are these days.

Now, I'm depressed. Actually, I'm not, I need to recognise that this is a pattern of thinking I need to get out of. There's going to be job interviews and things coming up this year. What am good at? What can I do? What are my strengths?

I need to go away and do me some more of that thinking business.

Gnfffff ...

2005-04-19T12:43:00.000Z

Okay, advice needed. Whistly Bastard is being super annoying today. Whistling, huffing, puffing, mumbling, tapping, basicially existing.

I asked him earlier if he was speaking to anyone in particular when his mumbling got REALLY LOUD, and since then he's been saying things like "Ooh, am I tapping too loud for you?" and the like.

Am I justified in punching his lights out? It's my deadline week and I need to concentrate, but I don't think I could live with another of his "Tony Blair is worse than Hitler" rants, which conversations with him invariably tend to descend into ...

Paranoia Strikes

2005-04-18T14:44:00.000Z

Okay, so when I arrived at work this morning, my assistant and my boss were already here, and there was a cup of tea on my desk waiting for me.

I arrived at work 75 minutes early which is the really weird thing here.

Then the internet access wasn't working.

Then I had to change ALL my passwords.

Now, the email system isn't working. I haven't heard from anyone in three hours.

I think, if this is work's way of actually getting me to do stuff, then it's failing spectactularly, cos I'm just whining about it on here instead ...

Oooh...

2005-04-18T14:06:00.000Z

So, the "impending doom" feeling wasn't entirely unwarranted.

3.38am on Saturday morning, one of the housemates mobile phone rang. You know what it's like when that happens, your heart skips a beat, and every bad thing that could possibly have happened anywhere on the planet, to any member of the family, fleetingly flashes through your brain.

My housemate isn't so nimble, so by the time the phone went over to the answering service, they still hadn't made it down stairs.

The phone rang again three or four minutes later, and this time they answered it. The voice must have sounded familiar as I could hear mental housemate shouting "Is that X?" over and over again into the handset. Eventually, one of them gave up, and hung up.

The phone rang again. And the charade continued exactly the same as before.

And once more.

You know who it was?

A wrong number.

Freaky ...

2005-04-15T14:16:00.000Z

I'm experiencing an odd feeling of "Impending Doom" today. I get these every once in while, and they're weird.

You know the feeling, like somewhere, something strange is going to happen? A little thrill in the pit of your stomach, and a sensation of Something Going On. I wonder what it will be?

Or, am I just mental?

In Vino Veritas ...

2005-04-15T00:20:00.000Z

Why is it a glass of wine with a sandwich on a Friday afternoon will get you more drunk than half a bottle of the same wine drunk after work will? I've never understood that particular phenomena.

I went out last night and drank my fair share of six bottles of the finest house rose wine. My two friends helped out, they're lovely people. I told them of my plans for thatLondon and they were very supportive - incidentally, I mentioned the news to my family this week too, and they thought the idea was a good one as well. I'm deeply suspicious now - after being a bit surprised. I also told them something that's been going on in my "other" life as an internet dweeb and I was mocked soundly for it. So they shall never have the URL of this website now, damn their eyes! Accountants, eh?

I'm a little delicate today. Actually, I'm not nearly as hungover as I should be, which is nice. I'm a little hard of thinking though, but there's nothing new there.

The weekend is nearly here, wheeeeeeee!

Man, I'm Hungry ....

2005-04-14T15:23:00.000Z

Luckily I'm going out for dinner tonight. Tapas. I blimming love tapas.

I was going to write a long post about plastic surgery and things today, but I kind of lost my flow halfway through - and it was a bit hypocritcal anyway, seeing as I've actually had plastic surgery in the dim and distant past.

Really, I'm just mourning the fact that I can't post pictures on here at the moment. I've had my haircut recently, and I need to know if my fringe is too short.

What am I like?

2005-04-13T09:41:00.000Z

We never see ourselves as other people see us. I asked a good friend recently what she thought my best qualities were, and she said she admired my "intelligent sense of humour" and my "patience". Which was really very sweet of her, but I confess to being slightly mystified. Especially on the patience thing. She also mentioned my skills with eyeshadow application, but I'd kind of taken that as a given ...

I'd always thought of myself as laid back, funny and handy with an eyeliner, frankly. Last year, I was astonished to discover that I'm actually only laid back when you take in my wider context as a bit of a control freak. Because, well, I am a control freak. Albeit a messy, slightly scatty one. I think that's why I became an accountant. So I can indulge my control freak side - there's nothing really like bringing order out of chaos, and that's essentially all accounts are. No really, come back! - at work, then go back to being my normal scatty, untidy self (hello Floordrobe!) at home. Nothing like a bit of dichotomy for livening up your day, I always say.

I guess I'm writing this, because I've been questioning myself a lot lately - I blame that frigging idiot calling me "nice" the other day - as to who is the "real" Luce? My family think I'm a boring cow that never does anything of interest, and spends half my life being an accountant (as if what I do defines who I am) and the other half pottering about on t'internet "reading". And nothing inbetween. My real life friends think I'm an accountant who spends half my life doing mad things on the internet - which, contextually, makes me *really* interesting as accountants go - and my internet friends think I'm a mad accountant who knows far too much about lipgloss. I think.

Actually, all of this is true. And yet, the sum of the parts mentioned here still doesn't lead you to who I am. My brain hurts. I'm stepping away from the subject now.

Mainly because I'm expecting an email, and thinking about all this guff is distracting me from checking my account every 15 seconds or so.

Instant Nostalgia

2005-04-12T14:36:00.000Z

I've just been wandering around Liverpool City Centre. My hairdresser has relocated, and I'd never heard of the street they'd moved to. So, my little walk took me around Matthew Street. Matthew Street is a funny place, world renowned as the "Birthplace of the Beatles" it survives these days mainly as a tourist attraction. There's a Beatles store, a Beatles superstore, no less than two incarnations of the Cavern Club (neither are original alas, although the fire exit of one of them is where the real one used to be) there's a Beatles shopping centre, a Vivienne Westwood shop, and literally dozens of bars with very little relation to the Beatles.

And, wandering round, it was the bars that made me sad. It's a quaint, curving little street, if you didn't know where it was, or what was hidden therein you'd dismiss it as a little alley or something. Full of old buildings, it's one of the few places in the city centre that's making an effort to preserve it's architectural heritage - it's not succeeding particularly well, but it's doing okay if you compare it to some places around here. But there are no less than three 70's bars, an 80's bar and even a 90's bar. A NINETIES bar! What the firk?

Even, I was saddened to see, Flanagans Apple has repainted it's wonderful murals and beiged itself out. I barely recognised the place. Okay, so normally when I'm wandering around this part of town, I'm at least a little drunk, and it's dark, but part of Matthew Street's charm has always been it's idiosyncracy, and it's refusal to join in with the excessive rebranding of Liverpool as part of the Capital of Culture shenanigans. My mother still thinks that Matthew Street is the only place in Liverpool you can actually get a drink. I'm wondering what she'll make of it's makeover.

And seriously? What's the deal with these theme bars? Is the time we're currently living in so bad that we're constantly having to ghetto-ise ourselves into the music of our past? I was around and drinking in the eighties (okay, illegally for the most part, I'm not that old) and they weren't that hot. Frankly, if I never have to dance to Simple Minds again, then all is well with the world as far as I'm concerned.

The best laid ...

2005-04-12T09:12:00.000Z

Okay, so 2005 is turning out to be the year of the plan. They're not massive plans, but hopefully the major things I'm planning this year will work out.

I'm planning a big birthday party in June in thatLondon. No idea of locations and things yet, but I'll work those out later. I've not had a birthday party since I was 13 and my mum bought me my first pair of stilettos! How times have changed, I wouldn't be seen dead in shoes bought for me by my mother these days ...

I'm also planning a summer holiday. Alas, for next year. Financial constraints mean this year is out, but finally! A girly holiday! Like what I should have done when I was 18 or something! It's very exciting. Now, if only we could figure out where we want to go ...

I think I have also finally decided to make the move to London. So many of my friends are down there, InternetMagic ones and ones who used to be InternetMagic ones and are now "real" (whatever the difference actually is) friends. I'm so used to being on my own up here, and it's very isolating. So I'm going to do it. FINALLY. Maybe only for six months or so, and it's really depending on my finding a job, but it's going to happen. Eventually.

It'll just be nice to have people to go to the cinema with. I mean, it's not like I'm going to be able to afford to eat when I get there ...

Nice? Oh For Crying Out Loud ...

2005-04-11T09:43:00.000Z

So, I'm "nice" apparently. Nice! My grandmother is nice. A nice cup of tea is nice. I am not nice.

I am certainly not firking nice when I am dressed up to the nines, flirting for England, and handing out my telephone number. I REALLY am not in the slightest bit nice when muppets spend an entire week asking the wrong people how I am.

I give in.

This post has been edited for language.

Grump, grump, grump ...

2005-04-07T07:38:00.000Z

I've had a headache for a few days now, it's sort of at the back of my head and hurts when I cough. But it's also on the move, because it feels like someone is constantly sticking a knitting needle in the top of my head, and I'm getting a pain behind my left eye.

At least I know you don't get headaches with a brain tumour - and hey, you'd need a brain to get one of those babies!

I didn't sleep much last night, so today, I may make less sense than usual. You have been warned.

Phone Fear

2005-04-06T11:15:00.000Z

I need to send a text. Actally, I don't need to, I want to. But I can't think what the hell to say. Anything I put down just sounds wanky and looks like I'm actually saying "Hello, I am a freak, run way. Run away quickly". Which, while inarguable, might actually turn out to be counterproductive.

God, I'm such a girl.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

2005-04-05T10:17:00.000Z

So ... I've been doing this job for a while now. It's a good job, and it's a good company, and the people I work with (Whistly Guy aside) are lovely. But...

But, I have a lot of friends at the opposite end of the country, and this contract up here is maybe coming to an end soon. And I've been wondering, should I make the move and go where the majority of my friends are? Or do I stay put in the hope that I'll eventually get a job up here that pays enough so I can eventually, maybe, buy a house?

In moving, I have no job, no place to live, but there are lots of people I know, and feel close to, significantly more of them down there than there are up here. In staying, I have a place to live and a job, and family, but only a tiny scattered handful of friends. What's more important right now? Security or friendship? It's a tough call.

I don't really know what to do, but it seems like the call from down south is getting stronger at the moment, but it's so fucking scary!

Got the keys?

2005-04-04T13:17:00.000Z

I bought a key ring on Saturday. Not such an extraordinary event you might think, but, I seem to have strange magical powers. As, it is the only way I seem to be able to find my damn keys.

On average, I lose my keys once a month. Always within 30 seconds of walking through the door at home, and usually for a period of about a week.

It's become so commonplace that the other keyholder in my place of residence keeps a set of spare keys around for the one week a month I don't have my own set.

So, once a month I buy a new keyring for the new key I'm going to get cut this time. And, as if by magic the original set of keys reappears. Usually within about two hours of my credit card cooling down.

This time, it turned out they were in my grey jacket pocket I'd forgotten I was wearing last weekend. Honestly, I give up.

When Mentalists Attack.

2005-04-04T09:50:00.000Z

I'm knackered, it's Monday morning and the week long period of recovery from the last weekend and preparation for the next begins anew ...

Had a good weekend overall, lots of going out and drinking alcohol, the usual. But on Saturday something odd happened. Well, not actually odd - although the person involved was odd, very, very odd indeed - more horrible, and really rather scary.

I was at a friend's engagement party with my family, and a lovely party it was too, when our table was joined by a friend who had brought her boyfriend along. The boyfriend is quite well known in the local area, he's a publican, and he's had a series of health problems lately. One of these problems being that he now thinks he can see into the future. And, he also thinks he's psychic. He gets deja vu a lot, and confuses this with true happenings.

Now, I don't know this man very well, but I know a fair amount about him, because he's well known to my family. Anyway, I ended up sitting next to him, and he was attempting to "amaze" me with his predictions for the "future" - mainly being about which exit people were going to use to get to the bar, or some such nonsense as far as I can tell.

Somehow, he got onto the subject of tattoos, and became convinced that I have a couple, and that I was going to show them to him. I do in fact, have one, and so told him he was half right. Big mistake. Big, BIG, mistake. He demanded to see my tattoo, which, while it's not in an embarrassing place, is difficult to access when dressed in a long sleeved top, so I told him that he wasn't going to see it. He then grabbed my top and pulled it down at the back to see my tattoo. So far, so funny. Not. I moved away a bit - difficult at a crowded circular table, and told him to leave me alone.

He didn't. He then became convinced that I had more tattoos and he "had" to see them. I don't, and told him so. He refused to believe me. He's a big man, and he was being very threatening at this point, he was trying to pull up the legs of my jeans to see if I had tattoos on my ankles and kept grabbing me. So I stood up and tried to get away and he kept pulling me back and telling me that he WOULD see my tattoos. I was quite angry and upset by this point, and threatened to hit him if he didn't leave me alone. He just laughed in my face.

Finally I managed to get my damn mother out of my way so I could get away from the table. Not one person at the table had bothered to intervene. A couple of people had found it amusing for a while, as it was just "Charlie" being "Charlie", and he's well known for his eccentric ways. I went to the bar. Found myself getting upset and had to dash to the ladies.

Eventually, I was fit to come back to the table, angry, upset, and irritated. Obviously, people had said something to "Charlie" in my absence as his first words when I came back (sitting at the opposite side of the table, obviously) were: "I'm sorry. Well, actually, I'm not, but they've all told me to apologise."

So I went and sat at the opposite side of the room, and talked to someone I barely knew to take my mind off things. I have no idea why these things keep happening lately. I was really upset when I got home, and I found myself getting tense about it again last night, but the main thing is, I'm okay. It's only really my dignity that's been hurt at all.

Procrastination, it's the future ...

2005-04-01T09:11:00.000Z

I really should have written this yesterday ...

Weighty Matters Revisited

2005-03-29T19:29:00.000Z

Forgive me reposting this from three months ago, but I
wanted to see it again, to remind myself why I wanted
to lose weight in the first place. An update will
follow...

I've been dissatisfied with my weight for some
time. I lost four stone in weight a couple of years
ago, and I've been packing it back on in the last 15
months. I know why - could probably tell you the exact
date and time it started - and it's a stupid reason,
possibly the stupidest reason anyone could think of,
but somehow, it seems easier to attempt to eat myself
to a slow death than deal with my real issues.

My current weight is both my burden and my security
blanket. I can blame it for things that go wrong in my
life, and hide behind it to avoid having to do things
I'm scared of, like, oh I don't know, having an actual
life or something.

I'm not that interested in me as a person, I already
think I'm silly, shallow and stupid, so being
overweight is just that initial barrier to make people
stop wanting to get to know the real me. I'm still in
here somewhere, trapped in this temple of
overconsumption I've created in my own image, and it
renders me invisible. And miserable. And what do I do
when I'm miserable? Eat.

I need to deal with this, but it's tough, the actual
losing weight part is the easy bit, but am I ready to
deal with everything else too? Currently, everything I
eat makes me feel guilty, or sick, or both, but I
can't stop myself. I tell myself I love food too much
to cut things out, but, I don't think I do, not
really.

I'm lonely, but my increasing weight is my excuse not
to engage with people, and the less I engage with
people, the more I eat to fill that vacuum. It's a
vicious circle. And the more I eat, the more I want to
eat. And so on, and so on, ad nauseum. Pun definitely
intended.

Three month update It's been rough, really
rough. And slow. I've not lost nearly as much
weight as I thought I would by now, but I'm not
feeling nearly so bad about it as I thought I would
be. I've lost a significant amount though, and it's a
damn good start.

I'm not sticking to some stupid diet with rules and
banned foods and stuff, I'm even exercising more, and
I've got more energy. Things are good. Surprisingly
good at the moment. My social life has taken an
upswing, my hair is behaving itself for a change, I
just need to sort out my living situation now, and I
think I can say I finally have a handle on most of the
things that have been bothering me for a while.

Looking back over the last twelve months, I can't help
but think it was no wonder I was depressed, I'd let go
of things, and stopped caring about anything
or anyone. Including myself. In fact, especially
myself.

I'm okay. I can finally admit that to myself now.
I'm not perfect, but I'm okay.

Now, does anyone know where I can get my hands on a
cheap laptop?

RIP ...

2005-03-29T09:54:00.000Z

Okay, so last week I was talking about loss and not being online much. I must have been having one of my precognitive moments (mental note: relate Jill Dando story ASAP), because my PC died in the early hours of Friday morning after a sudden illness.

Percy and I had been together for six years or so, we've been through five changes of address, including two changes of continent, an ill advised bout of internet-dating, innumerable instant messenger chats, eight different email addresses, seven CV's, a change of career, two bouts of unemployment, and a blog.

I think it was the blog what done it. Percy just couldn't handle what was expected of him in his later years, what with scanning, and transcribing, and occasional searches for naked celebrity pictures, and so on.

Fare thee well old friend, you shall be missed.

No pictures on the blog until a new PC can be tracked down and tamed.

Incidentally, the new series of Dr Who rocked, Fingersmith, on the other hand (ha! see what I did there?), erm, didn't. But I shall stick with it anyway.

Easter Weekend

2005-03-24T13:37:00.000Z

It's unlikely I'll be online much this weekend, I'm expecting early delivery of a hangover tomorrow morning, then I think I'll go to the cinema and swear at children.

Saturday is the new series of Dr Who, and there's an adaptation of Fingersmith I want to see on Sunday too. Okay, so my life is revolving around TV a bit at the moment, but I don't see a problem with that. Things were very busy up until recently, and my poor, overheated brain needs a rest. And this week has had some surreal moments, so I'm taking time out to think some options over.

And it's Easter, hope everyone has a lovely weekend, whatever they end up doing ...

Whistly Guy update ...

2005-03-24T13:18:00.000Z

It's his birthday on Saturday, so he's eating a pork pie in the office to celebrate. I can hear it.

We're going on an office outing tonight. I may have to kill him for the sake of my sanity. Have you ever been forced to listen to someone eat a pie?

It's not nice, dammit.

Still free beer, eh?

Music to die for.

2005-03-23T15:51:00.000Z

A friend of a friend died yesterday. I didn't know her at all, only knew of her, but it got me thinking. Again.

I've been to a lot of funerals in the last couple of years, old and young people, people who had been ill for a long time, people who died in unexpected and horrific (and sometimes what could have been comical) accidents.

I was talking to my bereaved friend earlier about how wakes are better parties than weddings, and we'd like to be remembered, I said as long as people thought I was funny and knew my way around a lipgloss, I'd be happy to be called an irritating bitch. Because, essentially I am one. But, you know, a nice one.

This comment was mainly inspired by some random "which song should we play at our funerals?" conversation at Martin's funeral a few months ago. Mum would have had "Always Look on The Bright Side of Life and little sister wanted All Things Bright And Beautiful.

I couldn't think of anything. Like I've said before, I have appalling taste in music, and frankly, can't see Tragedy or Jive Talking by the Bee Gees going down all that well, to be honest. My friend Jester piped up with the perfect song. "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks. She meant it as a joke, and there were a couple of shocked faces, but I know what she meant.

It's this song in fact:

I hate the world today
You're so good to me
I know but I can't change
Tried to tell you
But you look at me like maybe
I'm an angel underneath
Innocent and sweet
Yesterday I cried
Must have been relieved to see
The softer side
I can understand how you'd be so confused
I don't envy you
I'm a little bit of everything
All rolled into one

I'm a bitch, I'm a lover
I'm a child, I'm a mother
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell, I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
You know you wouldn't want it any other way

So take me as I am
This may mean
You'll have to be a stronger man
Rest assured that
When I start to make you nervous
And I'm going to extremes
Tomorrow I will change
And today won't mean a thing

Just when you think, you got me figured out
The season's already changing
I think it's cool, you do what you do
And don't try to save me

I'm a bitch, I'm a tease
I'm a goddess on my knees
When you hurt, when you suffer
I'm your angel undercover
I've been numb, I'm revived
Can't say I'm not alive
You know I wouldn't want it any other way

I want a disco. A seventies disco. And lots of weeping and wailing and renting of garments at my passing. This has been a public service announcement.