RIP my blender.

I am a lover of gadgets and general kitchen appliances. One of my favourite being the blender.
Now I feel sorry for blenders generally, as they are always over looked by numerous other appilances such as Sandwich Toasters/George Foremans, Deluxe Corkscrew sets, Kettles that change colours, Steamers, Expensive Knives, Milk frothers and Coffee Makers, to name a few.
Now of course there are the variations on the blender - food processors, hand held blenders, even smoothy makers (which get me so mad, they are blenders with a spout, what the fuck is the point, god this vexes me so much and I can't help but rant away - When I see one, I get so angry and generally have to have a word with the person who owns it. And yes my friend Jo had one and I told her what I thought, she soon learnt to hide it from my eyes when I visited) but my favourite is the classic, upright jugged blender, there's nothing mightier or more practical and they always look so regal on the work top, they are one of the appliances that have right of place on the work counter and not hidden in a box or cupboard some where. They stand so tall and proud and if you've taken great care in choosing your's, then it is probably glass, with black and shiny metal bits, it deserves to be admired by the passing visitors. there are no gimicks with them, they are straight talking machines, works of art and they never fail. They were designed with such care that they are easy to take apart and clean, what a marvel of design, creation, art, etc!

I am currently mourning the death of my old one. He was six months old and very pretty. He wasn't ideal, he was cheap, from Sainsbury's and wouldn't blend certain thick things, he'd freak out if you put him on his highest setting and as for his ice crushing option, yeah right whatever?! But he was a genius little thing and I adored him so much, when I bought him, I was so happy, I bounced up and down with glee! So to discover while trying to make soup last night, that he'd been cracked right down his side, straight through, was devastating, although watching the chicken stock pour out of the side was quite entertaining. I am slowly diposing of him bit by bit, I feel the pain will be less this way.

So, if anyone is lost on what to get me for my 'Quarter of a Century' birthday, a state of the art blender wouldn't go amiss, although you may want to buy with a friend of mine, as a good one, who does all he promises is around £50+ but I think I'm worth it.

A favour...

...if anyone sees Britney Spears, can they please give the girl a hug, offer her a pork pie with maybe some Branston Pickle on the side and lend her an ear to talk in to but DO NOT sell the story, as that would be mean.

Cheers.

I can confirm...

...that Peppermint Tea and Ginger Nut biscuits do not go together.

It's not advisable.

Cor, I forgot...

...how tasty, a good cup of tea and a ginger nut biscuit is.
I'm telling you right now, if you've got the chance to invest in this ideal tea break snack, you should do so.

Not recommended

I cooked peas in the microwave at work today, it's not recommended.

It feels like ages, since I felt like this...

On a day where Anna Nicole Smith has died for currently unknown reasons, Axl claims not to find the appeal of porn appertising and my fortnight finally looks like it's going to take a turn for the better, finally.
I today have found myself watching two films while sat at my desk. The first being "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer", now I got excited about this when I saw the trailer and I wasn't disappointed (except for the lack of attempt at accents, bloody American audiences), although I haven't read the book and when I told Julie from the office what I was watching, she observed that he wasn't unattractive enough and then continued with her comments. although little do you all know, that I'm refusing to ever read the book before watching the film, as I'm always so dissapointed with the film and I hate being disappointed by films, as I adore them. If the book takes my fancy, then I may carry on with a book but I'm not a big reader, in fact it's more I don't find much time to read, I'm always on the go with creating, sewing, cooking, baking or something else.
The second film I observed was "A Night at the Museum", it was rather good. It had a brilliant cast and I did enjoy it, it was nice to just be able to switch off and not think about what's going on and as always the typical Disney ending was installed, which is nice.

I've had an odd week, with interesting revelations, horrendous hangovers, sales offers for my creations, home truths, dinner parties, calls from abroad, forced holidays from friends who need to be alone to deal with their past, tears and upsets, mega make-up, burnt mouths from Ratatouille, trips away from Oxford, an amazing gig and a crap gig and finally, Karma coming to serve up some just deserts, which is always pleasant to observe, especially when I've been on the receiving end of these certain people's actions. I wish all the best to those who are being bitten by Karma but don't turn to me anymore, as this door mat has walked away.

For once and the first time in a while, I'm thinking about me and not how my actions effect others and it feels alright. I'm not sure how long I'll wear this jacket for, as it's not really my thing but for now, it's a cosy fit but I think I'll keep the training wheels on for a while, just in case.

Fuck YEAH!!!

The new series of America's Next Top Model is on tonight, I'm oh so excited, it is the greatest show and I can't wait to see who the next Jade will be.....yeah!!!!

The Static Charged Jeremy Kyle Show

I haven't really watched that much Jeremy Kyle of late, there is only so much polyester, screaming obscenities at the tops of their smoked effect voices with their badly enunciated speech, TV watching that I can do, before I start wanting to kill myself or buy a stately home somewhere remote, to continue my belief that Georgian (2007) England is a marvellous place, where women are ladies (who wear dresses, cross their ankles, sit up straight, do the daily household chores like embroidery, speak in such pretty voices and are generally marvellous human beings) and men are gentlemen (who wear britches, ride horses, find it hard to say the right words to express how they are feeling, defend the honour of every lady and are generally marvellous).

I used to quite enjoy Trisha though, as she'd been everywhere and done everything...she'd have a guest on the show who'd be a scag hooked prostitute, who was beaten by their mother, sexually assaulted by their dad, ridiculed and made to feel worthless by their uncle and her brother would be her drug dealing pimp and Trisha would have done it a little better, by doing it while constantly juggling and on a unicycle...god she was great.

But Jeremy Kyle just tells people that everyone gets a say on his show and then when they try to say something, he shouts at them...I do however, love how he always penalises one of them, in the typical bad guest/good guest stylee.

The average person in the audience, look as though they didn't know that there is a difference between man-made and natural fibres. And with the glare and shine the camera picks up when it swings round to the audience, it leads me to believe that they are on average wearing man-made fibres, as well as too much blusher, a base which is wrong for their skin tone, a bra 3 sizes to small and were unable to get to their mate to have their toilet bleach highlights retouched.
Now generally in studios, there is a lot of electric energy running around the studio, with cameras, cabling, lights, etc.

So miniture mathematical equation: Man Made fibres + electricity/friction = static charge!

Basically:
How much static energy must be in the Jeremy Kyle studio?
Do Jeremy and his crew have to wear anti-static armour?!
Do they earth the bottom of the audiences seats?
And if it's of considerable amounts, could we harness it some how and use it to shoot rockets of the guests in to space or maybe just Jeremy?

The Life Of A Bluffer...

The older I get, the more 'The Life Of A Bluffer' looks grand. I'm thinking that bluffing, dipping and diving through life with no real plans or beliefs would be a easy option. Although to be fair I don't have many plans in life, other than to be happy and as for beliefs, I have many but whether I'll debate about them, is another matter. So maybe I am a bluffer but in disguise of someone whose collected and organised?!

Either way, I may change my non-existent plan and go for the jugular of Bluffer.

Who knows, or maybe I could join the directionless wannabes and become a "Scenester", chat shit about bands I've never heard of and couldn't care less about and dress like Karen O (is she still cool?), as dressing like me would be way uncool!

Whatever happens, it's all pointless and meaningless, so at least I'll never loose sleep over any of it. Which is nice!

Worry Wart!

Why do warts worry? And which was the first wart to worried?

I personally think that in the olden days, they believed that warts were caused by worrying but that makes far to much sense and is the sensible answer, so anyone got any ideas?!

Onions

Is it me, or have onions shrunk in recent years? I remember them being so much bigger, when I was a young whipper snapper, maybe it is just me?!

Oh well, that's all I've got to say, not much I know but at least it's something.

He deserved a slap!

My day today started quite well. I had a good nights sleep and didn't have any weird dreams, for once. I was rather alert and awake as my alarms sounded too, which for me is a feat.
Up and dressed I got and so I started my day. The Cowley Road was rather empty as I tootled up it, which was nice and then to The Royal Mail Sorting Office I went. I was running a little late for work, so I needed to fly in and out to collect my parcel and then carrying on to work, work, work!
I arrive, no parking bays free, typical I mutter. So as I'm intending to fly in and out, I park on the double yellows, I'm only in the way of one form of the public and that's the pedestrians and it's a industrial estate, so that's not much of a worry. So out of my car I get, to be informed by a nice lady (whose in the sorting office) that the clampers have discovered a lovely little black spot with this said area and the crapness of the 8 bays they offer to visitors and customers of this said building, so are pretty much on the case and hover and strike the unsuspecting people (obviously if your a clamper, it's far easier to sit on black spot, instead of clamping the real pain in the arse parkers). She says that she'll be departing very shortly in her red MGF, so I get back in my car, turn around and hover, for her to move...5 minutes, two more customers and the watching of one stupid woman in an MPV who can't mount the pavement, as she may upset her son in the back of the car later, not as quick as she implied, she departs. I pull in, better than she had, so that the stupid woman in her MPV can pull in next to me, does she? like fuck!!! I really shouldn't have bothered my little head about it!
Once inside, I ring the bell, one minute later a post guy (not a postman, just a postal worker) smiles, takes my card and buggers off. A minute later, another man pops in to the window, to collect the stupid woman in the MPV's card, while her son constant need to pull faces, makes me want the wind to change drastically, that'll teach the little shit!
While waiting for the post guy whose dealing with my parcel to return from the depths of Oxford's sorting office, I notice and read the sign saying that the Royal Mail's workers are respectful and polite, so could we please be so to them in return. I start thinking about why you would want to abuse one of these people, they have your parcel, you give them the card, they give you your parcel..occasionally you exchange it for money but it's not their fault, it's the head honcho's fault for increasing the prices or the person who sent you the parcel's fault for not paying enough...it's crazy to think someone would want to insult one of the post guys!
Finally the smiley man returns laughing. I enquire to why he's laughing and he says the following, while pointing at my parcel "Mole, I know, I know" (To which I'm expecting him to say, "I know I shouldn't be laughing at your surname but I'm a prick and have no respect for anyone, my days are spent sitting in this little office with him, and he has a flatulence issue that can make the atmosphere polluted and the job ever so hard, so I'm trying to find certain issues funny, to lighten my day, please please please except my deepest apologies at being so rude, I'm ever so sorry. And please have a pleasant Christmas". But does he? Fuck off does he, instead he completes the sentence with the following.) "it's funny isn't it, Mole! ha ha ha".
At which point I look at him in dismay, he chuckles some more expecting me to chuckle with him and probably say something to the effect of "I know, stupid name, it makes me laugh everyday, I'm so lucky, much better than being a boring old Smith or Jones, ha ha ha, I really am lucky to have such a hilarious name". But no instead, I look at him and then the respectful sign with the implication that the Royal Mail staff are ever so respectful and feel like giving him torrents of verbal abuse starting with the saying "How very dare you?! You ignorant cretin! blah blah blah", but I don't, as I'm respectful...I give him a dishearten look and depart.
Fucking Prick!!! What a fucking nerve, how fucking dare he...ignorant little twat...what the fuck did I ever do to him and at which point did I ever ask him to comment on my surname or ask his opinion, I don't think I fucking well did. I know he must have a pretty shitty job at times but don't we all?! So at which point did he think he had the right to criticise my name! I've lived with the surname Mole all of my life and I actually have grown to like it, after years of ridicule and names being chucked in my direction, it's quite hard to find a name that I haven't been called and if it's a drunken ignorant prick at a party, who I have just met or only know through a friend, I laugh with them and chuckle away, as I know I'm better than them (in many ways but mainly through respect and decorum), but as for the people who are supposed to be supplying me with a service, paid for by the public...it's outrageous!
Needless to say, I was late for work!

I found a grey what at 24?

I've known for some time that I had the occasional grey hair in my bonnet but jesus...I realised a few days ago, why I've been dying my hair since I was 13, it's because I knew that soon enough, I'd be sporting the aging look.
If it was in the perfect style of Cruella Deville or Caryn Franklin, then I'd happily keep it and go for gold in the delicate art of aging gracefully but at 24? I do think not!
And I am so fed up of my blonde friends laughing at the idea of having grey/white hair at 24, jesus girls, half of your bonnets have been white/grey for some time, making up a good percentage of your multi-tonal crowning glory.
I personally like discussing this matter with my like headed friends and also those whom believe that they natural colour is something totally different to what it actually is, as they haven't truly seen it in ages, yonks, donkey's years, centuries, need I go on? I don't think so.
As for the pulling one out and 5 growing back, it's bastardly true...although I think that grey hair is more like mould, once you get one and notice it, it's spreads and grows at double the rate it did.
So here's to praying that all of my grey hairs start discussing the matter of growing in a collective and give me a graceful streak.
The only buggering thing about it, is that my regrowth under the dye, looks horrendous and I can't get away with being lazy and avoiding the matter of redying...so here's to being more on the ball and denying the art of growing old gracefully, well for at least another 10 years.

Snotty McSnotter

Illness and missing being healthy!

I had a period about a year a go, where I was ill constantly, mainly due to "Burning the candle at both ends" as the oldens' would say, but that has been put behind me, since I quit working at the nightclub, sleeping more, relaxing and I mean proper relaxing, and just general well being, such as taking vitamin tablets and acupuncture, as well as becoming the ambassador of Peppers and other mediterrean vegetables, they'll come with every meal and will be served in various ways...ahh, they are so joyous and yummy!
But for some reason, when I do get a cold or other illness, they takes forever to arrive and forever to leave, properly.
Take this thing, I've recently contracted, well I actually contracted it about 2 weeks ago but will it arrive or go, hell no...I'm almost in the believe that it's been 3 different cold/flu/illnesses in one...On the morning of Tuesday 31st October, I had a tickle in my throat and a slght clogging at the back of my nose, I'm guessing my sinus...well anyway. I had a rest and a sleep, later that night I celebrated Halloween in sober stylee, due to feeling a little pants and having work the next day.
For the following few days the symptoms would appear worse in the morning but clear up during the day.
After a week of this crap, it turned in to a dry throat and hacking cough, with intermitant headaches. I chose to take the Monday off work, in the thinking that if I took a day off, when I felt crappy, I could stop it before it took hold, so I rested up and slept...but low and behold by the end of that week, it turned in to a blocked nose and general grogginess and now I have this full on cold, with running eyes, tension headaches, runny nose, blocked everything, the only part of me that feels fine is my throat and even that feels a little tender.
My biggest problem, is that I'm not a big fan of admitting that I'm ill, I like to think that with a little extra sleep and keeping my fluid intakes up, will budge it. But once I have admitted that maybe I'm a little ill, I generally over react, with eating soup, drinking everything and anything that has cold/flu/remedy/medicine on the box/bottle/tub/tube/packet, upping my already vast water intake 10 fold and occasionally eating ice cream to make myself feel better. I try not to see people, as I'd hate to spread it and I generally have to tell everyone I see that I've got a cold and would rather not pass it on (is it not better to warn people and then be able to not get blamed, when they contract it? Plus I work with and know some people who are so health conscience and anal, that they'll run a mile and avoid you, if they witness you sneeze). Plus it also explains why I look like death warmed up and have dried, cracked skin all around my nose.
The one thing that annoys me most is, when everyone else I know has a cold, they have the luxury of loosing their scent of smell. I however do not, I have a pretty good sense of smell normally, so when I have a cold, I can still smell everything and I mean everything. I suppose this isn't a bad thing but when bad smells come on in, I can still smell them, I've never had the joy of saying 'Ha, I can't smell it due to my cold", although I shouldn't complain. About 2 years ago, I complained that I'd never lost my voice and had always had it, since my complaint, I've grown vocal nodes and now loose it, at the smallest quiff of a dry throat or a slight strain from shouting and I've lost a part of my range for good, well at least until/if my nodes ever go!
What's worse is that during this period, I've had a number of friends who have suffered colds and after a good nights sleep, been fine and got on with the world. So what is so defect about me and my immune system? Maybe it's my magnetic personallity that makes the cold/flu/illnesses hang about or my pure charm and wonderfully rose tinted views on the world or maybe it's my impaitence?! One person gave me the sound advice of: 2 cartons of Covent Garden Carrott and Coriander Soup, lots of Orange Juice, loads of sleep and pint after pint of water. Another advise loads of green veg, sleep, water and hot honey and lemon. Maybe I just need to master the art of my personal salvation from cold/flu/illnesses, who knows?!

What fun the seasonal change is, if nothing more it's entertaining.

My heart goes out to those of you with cold/flu/illnesses...keep your fluids up and get your head down for a nice little kip.

Knick Knack Paddy Whack

I actually don't really have much to say, I just wanted to name a blog by the above title.

Once again, the only brain sick I truly has involves people who can't park to save their lives. When entering a car park, you should be given two options: Car Park or Car Abandonment.
To enter Car Park, you should have previously passed numerous car parking exercises and been given a gold star and a little certificate to say that your allowed to park there.
For Car Abandonment, you should be allowed in if you never passed the Car Parking Test, or if you passed but have had 3 suits brought against you at the Car Parking Retrieval of Certificate Centre, in which photos were taken of your bad parking and a little trial goes ahead to work out whether you deserve to have the certificate or not. Or if your just a shit parker!
I've had to endure my fair share of car abandonment of late, one being the only space left in the car park, my car being pathetically small in size and therefore being able to squeeze between these two abandoned cars, but only realising once in that I had minus centimetres to exit my vehicle. When returning from work most nights, I am continuously finding spaces that even smart cars would find challenging, now I know that a lot of the spaces on my street are from where the hard earning population leave their homes to fill their bank accounts and then return to find a car has moved all of nowhere and have to park around it, but for some reason, over a week a car won't move (normally a students from where they only ever use them to drive to Oxford to drop all their stuff from Mummy and Daddy's off and then normally home again at the end of term and occasionally to Tesco' to pick up the alcohol stock or to Penelope's for this awesome house party, as her parents are away but for the other 50 million hours a year, it will hardly move), taking up precious space and then you'll get a complete twat you can't park to safe their life who insists of parking 5 foot away from the car in front and then will leave it their for a week....So yes I vote for two styles of parking allotments...plus one side of each street should be this also...depending on what percentage of the street passed the tests and which didn't. I shouldn't be punished because some people are fucking hopeless at manoeuvring a vehicle, they insist of keeping and rarely use, should I? I use mine, a lot...and there for am killing the planet but earning the right for 2 styles of car parks!
Or maybe it should be that everyone has to take parking tests each year, while your cars in for an MOT, we'll also test your parking ability...

Now names and titles will be changed to be more memorable and easy to say, as this is an idea and ideas are the starting block to the future things of marvel!

Glossy booklets of joy!

There is nothing nicer than recieving new magazines, whether it's 'Innovations', a random household or clothes catalogue, a trashy mag or a big fat glossy magazine.
I love them, so much. There is nothing nicer than taking some time out and flicking through the crisp new unopened pages, the unseen images and unread words.
So other week when I arrived at work, to find the new Ikea catalogue, I was in heaven! Now there is something especially wonderful about household catalogues, as it's all new and fresh and rephotographed and pretty! And it immediately makes you want to go out and buy everything they sell, they do such an amazing job of selling the dream and making the people in the photos look so realistic that I see myself as the lady shown, showing her orderly drawers of spice and herb pots to my mother-in-law, while the slow roast lamb in my twin fan oven simmers and the large baking tray full of potatoes, rosemary and olive oil glistens and crisps up....ahh the dream i live in is grand but only while looking through the catalogue.
The downside to catalogues is reality, I expect that if shops and companies could, they would remove reality completely, as then we would all buy, buy, buy and never consider that it's not worth it or that it's not the same dream that you were promised. Although knowing that the dream and reality are never the same thing, we still try and try to live the dream and buy the dream and believe that the dream is possible. But what would life be, if we didn't continually try and try to be better and never except that this could just be it. But if you ask me, Ikea and other catalogues do sell the dream extremely well.
I love the fantasy land and dream bubbles...reality has it's place but for now, I'm going to continue to keep an eye on my slow roast lamb and put my spice and herb pots in alphabetical order...and try to keep my mother-in-law as sweet as possible, I mean she is the nicest lady in the world, so it's not that hard, not at all and the kids adore her and my husband, doesn't think that she's always right, although she is.
"So come on Audrey (my dream/bubble mother-in-law's name), let's crack that bottle of red open".

Structure and Lifestyle

I woke up this morning as I always do, tired, fed up and craving more sleep. Lately my whole schedule has gone out of the window. When I first started having acupunture, my acupunturists made an observation 'It appears to me that your a tourist in your own life, you have no schedule or pattern, there is no balance or regularity. When are you returning from your holiday to a healthy life style?", to which I quite frankly just looked puzzled and kept myself in a state of stunned silence.
Now I've always thought that I had a rather dull, uninteresting, regular life style, where it's all pretty structure and routine but apparently not, apparently answering 'well it depends on the day, where I am and who I'm with', isn't acceptable. So I set about trying to get some structure, the only thing I could really change was my sleep pattern, so I tried most nights to be asleep by midnight and failing that definiately by one. The problem being that I'm such a night owl, I can happily stay up for two days straight and would only start to get tired towards the end of the second night. My body clock become alerts at around 8-9pm, all of a sudden, I can think clearly and get these grand spurts of energy, I could run a marathon but only if it was held at 9pm onwards. I've always been this way but since I started working at the night club, it really came in to it's own. I'm hoping that now I've left, I may settle in to a more normal pattern but I know that it's a futile, pointless thing to hope for, I've always been this way.
So once again, I'm going to structure my sleep pattern and be in bed by 12, if nothing more...although for the last 3 nights I've said this and for the last 3 nights, I've ended up watching films, talking to my housemates or chatting on msn with people. Damn that temptation, it's just all to appealing!

Other than my lack of sleep and inability to structure my life, all is pretty well at the mo. Except I currently have 'Pop is dead' By Radiohead stuck in my head, I just want to scream and scream and I haven't even heard it, I just happened to spot it on my iTunes earlier and ever since have been singing away in my head...and the worse thing is I keep on seeing Thom Yorke popping out of the coffin, god the video is atrocious, if you've seen it, your lucky, due to it being locked away in the vaults somewhere and it's a rare sighting, like witnessing a baby deer run for the first time (unless your a hunter and then it's grab your gun time, although to be fair, a baby deer is a bit of an easy target and if your a skilled huntsman, surely your should go for a harder target, although they are smaller than most a stag, so slightly harder to hit, oohhh anyway, as I was saying?!) and unlucky, due to it being so dyer.

My First, My Last, My Everything

I'm tired and really need to sleep, I've been looking so forward to sleep for so long, that I now find that I can't sleep...plus I'm starving, I've only had my lunch (which was 3 courses) to eat all day...grumble grumble goes my belly.

Night.