I Am Not A Reliable Narrator

I've moved

2008-09-27T17:36:00.001+01:00

Maybe, I'm giving wordpress a chance right now, let's see how it goes:
I am (still) not a reliable narrator

Goodbye weekend,

2008-09-21T21:08:00.002+01:00

Jeremy is in Chicago for our friend Thomas's wedding, so it's just me and Oliver here at Casa de Pain. I've spent most the weekend typing my draft up on the computer. I've got 20 pages of 62 on here so far and have been shouting at myself over inconsistincies but not too much. They're all pretty small and can be sorted later. i'm kicking myself for not using notecards to keep all my strands untangled sooner.

It's suddenly sunny and beautiful in London this weekend so I've been out for long walks yesterday and today and had a really awesome roast dinner at a new pub in Nunhead today. roast beef = yum. But mostly I've been sequestered in the second bedroom either typing and editing or watching old epidsodes of ANTM and project Runway online while I knit.

It's been a pretty awesome weekend.

I've got physio therapy for the demon costochondritis on tuesday. i'm hoping it will help me get off the cocodamol because they mae me feel pretty grody and don't even take all the pain away and that, friends, is lame as hell.

And tomorrow it's back to work in the city where hopefully the very large investment bank I work for will not be shutting down (actually they seem to be clinging on by their stubby stubby finernails, so fingers crossed) because I totally don't want to find a new job or get transferred to some dank mailroom someplace. Fingers crossed.

These, the trials of my life

2008-09-17T15:01:00.000+01:00

So I left work early today because the cocodamol my GP prescribed for the costochondritis is doing bad things to my stomach. I struggled homeward on the bus fighting not to spew. When I changed buses in Peckham there was a large woman standing in front of my and blocking the aisle so I said excuse me and pushed past her only to hear her inform me under her breath that I should have said excuse me. I turned and wished I could vomit on command before saying, "I did say excuse me." And she said again as I turned, "If you wanted to go by you should have said excuse me." And all I could think was FUCK YOU!!! But I said instead, "I'm sorry if I upset you, I didn't mean to, but I did say excuse me." And she said all bitchy like, "Just go sit down." So I did because I felt like hell, but when she got off at the next stop, I took the high road, and stuck my tongue out at her. Not as effective as vomiting on command, but I think I still got my point across.

I'm like those sickly Victorian ladies

2008-09-06T15:40:00.003+01:00

So there's a new thing wrong with me. The cartilage around the ribs in my chest is swollen and painful. This is called costochondritis. There is no real real reason for it. When I asked the doctor if it might be related to the reactive arthritis she just sort of stared at me blankly. Do you think doctors take a class in blank stares? Because all my doctors are really good at blank stares. I've also got a scratchy throat and a stuffy head. These wouldn't be so bad except the costochondritis makes it really painful to sneeze, cough or blow my nose right now, so the average common cold is knocked up to a new and exciting level.

Otherwise all is well. Work is busy, I'm writing steadily outside of work, the rainy weatrher makes my cat cuddly, and I managed to find the pilot of the new 90210 on line yesterday while I was home sick from work. Sadly the soundtrack was all out of whack with the action and the plot was pretty hackneyed and the girls were all scary skinny (and why'd they have to diss Ahndrea Zuckerman's kid like that, huh?) but I still have hopes for the following episodes, as long as Brenda sticks around I'm in it for the long haul. Now I just have to check out the new cycle of ANTM and all my American tv needs will be met.

I haven't watched any footage of the RNC because just reading about it freaks me out. Were they really seriously, without irony, yelling "Drill, baby, drill" while Palin was speaking? Really? Do people do that?

Despite my fear of the RNC I've still been really homesick lately. Our flyby trip to detroit and Chicago has made me feel just weird. I don't know that I want to move back to the states right now, but I feel like it would be nice to spend a month there just hanging out and actually having enough time to see people and do all the things I miss.

And in general what the fuck news, Jeremy got a call from a recruiter in Kazakhstan. And maybe I shouldn't be so hasty to judge a country based on the Borat movie, but I'm pretty happy he told the guy we'd rather stay in London for now. Not that there aren't lovely parts of Kazhakstan, I'm sure there are, just no thanks. Why don't recruiters from Paris or Rome ever call us? That's what I wanna know.

damn

2008-08-28T18:14:00.002+01:00

Willie (see post below) has totally got me down. My legs have been sore all day, my stomach is full of cramps and nausea and I am just generally tired and feeling run down. Fucking Willie. The Feminax with naproxen that I bought is only just barely helping, that hardly seems right, it's supposed to be stronger than Feminax classic, but clearly today it is not. Stupid.
They've totally tightened up the internet filter at my office which means so long to Facebook, farewell to commenting on Blogger, arrivederci to posting anything on Blogger really, and one big boo to the man. At least I can still get on to I Can Has Cheezburger and GoFugYourself. It could be worse.
really those are they only two things vexing me at the moment, but I have cramps and aches and that makes every worse! Everything!

2008-08-25T22:38:00.002+01:00

So on Thursday when I was sitting at the dining room table all creating life in my notebooks and everything while I listened to The Essential Willie Nelson (recently purchased for a rock bottom price at Encore Records in Ann Arbor Mi) and that classic torch song You Were Always on My Mind started to play and me, I seriously started to cry. My nose started to twitch and then my eyes watered and I was crying! Seriously Willie, why you gotta pull that shit? I was shocked at such a display, true it was a private display, but I was shocked nonetheless. Later in the day while I considered ripping out the throat of anyone, yes anyone at all, small children and old kindly women were not exempt, who dared to call me on my office line to you know ask questions about my job and how to use the database or you know ask me to do any of the things I am paid to do I realized that maybe Willie was not entirely to blame. Maybe, just maybe, I was suffering from PMS.
And now as I think about this and suffer from the cramps that herald the end of PMS and the beginning of 5-7 days of ache I realize that I have never had a stupid name for my period. Maybe I'll call it Flo occasionally or My Monthly Visitor when I am feeling all retro or when I make fun of Mrs Biddle my 9th grade gym teacher I call it "that ti-yime of the muhnth" in an exaggerated southern accent but that's only because I'm in character. Anyhow, I think I may call my period Willie from now on, just when I'm in mixed company mind, when it's just me and Jeremy I shall continue on referring to it as this curse of Eve sent down by that bastard god to punish me for daring to be born a woman, but like that's too long for when I just need to say something like, "Oh Willie's in town, better stock up on the Feminax." And really, Willie and my period are the only two characters in my life who can reduce me to tears without even the tiniest notice.

Probably, I should never put disc 2 of The Essential Willie Nelson on random play. The results could be dangerous.

Things I hate and love

2008-08-22T13:14:00.004+01:00

Outside of really big bad things, you know like war and poverty and racism and assholes, these are some things I really can't stand:

Stepping in poop of indeterminate origin less than ten steps from my house in the morning (actually I still hate stepping in poop with a clear origin, but indeterminate feces is somehow just a little bit worse). It's really hard to get poop off your shoes. And it smells bad. Hate.
Taking the bus on a rainy day. Because it's overcrowded and everyone smells worse than they normally do. The bus on a normal day is bad enough but add rain and it becomes nigh intolerable.
The bug bite on my shin. Something in Michigan bit me and it still itches and is huge! Stupid Michigan bugs.
Having to work totally sucks. For real, someone should just pay me for being me and therefore being awesome. I have been saying this for a long time. When will the people listen? When?
PMS. Sometimes I can feel it building up. The bitchery starts small, like with hand gestures at the telephone when people ask me stupid questions about scanning documents (It's not rocket science, jerks!) and then grows and grows until I am spewing curse words at small children while swigging cheap red wine and begging strangers for cigarettes. Sometimes it sneak attacks and I go from Sweetie Pie Jones to Cruella DeVille in 2 seconds over the fact that someone moved my paperclip! MY PAPERCLIP!!!

And these are some things I love (again excluding the obvious like Jeremy and Oliver the cat and Top Shelf Ramen Noodles and the color green)

My neices. They're all rock solid awesome. The eldest is 16 and smart as hell. She takes college courses in the mornings and high school course in the afternoon. When she's done with high school she'll probably have the first two years of college finished and out of her way. She is also very pretty and awesome. The middle is equally awesome, she is obsessed with puppies (thus making her easy to bribe) cute as a freaking button and bright as hell, at 7 she is already a lot of fun to talk to and still giggles and looks at me like I'm a nut when I ask her if she's married yet and make other stupid jokes. And the littlest at 2 is fast becoming an evil genius. She's taken to stealing the other kids' socks at daycare and then she sits on said socks so that they will never be discovered! And no, she is not some mammoth thug baby, kid just wants more socks and has figured out a way to procure them. Also, she is adorable. My neices are awesome.
Sleeping in and then reading a book for an hour in bed before actually moving downstairs. This is the ultimate decadence. If I just had a butler who would serve me coffee whilst I leisurely read in bed life would be perfect.
My bathroom. It is beautiful and has a big tub and a heated floor. Therefore, I love it.
New bedding. We just bought new sheets when we were back in the Americas and oh god they are the best ever. They are just from Target but they are sooo soooo soooooo soft and comfy and 2 more sets will be arriving soon in the box we are having shipped over! Hooray for the 4-500 thread count! And new down pillows too!
Getting compliments. Compliments are awesome and I love them. Last week I got compliments on my shoes ("When I saw you'd changed into your Converse I was really psyched because I knew you meant business about dancing." And I did!), my bag (That's a sweet bag!" It is!) and 6 on my blue Italian necklace (although Jeremy claims these are compliments to him because he picked it out, but they are not because he would look silly wearing it whereas I looked awesome.) and they all made me feel really nice which makes me want to give out more compliments in the hopes that even more compliments will come my way. Have I mentioned how pretty you all are? Because you are one devastating bunch!

My least favorite questions that people ask me when I go back to the US (with answers both given and imagined)

2008-08-20T11:45:00.004+01:00

1. So, London, do you love it?

Given answer: Yeah it's really great.

Imagined answer: It's where I live, it's okay, but it's like living anywhere really. Mostly I hang out at home with my cat. The only things that truly set it apart from, say, Chicago, are the accents and the fact that I can get tasty Indian food delivered to my door (with a free biggun of beer!)

2. So what do you do anyhow?

Real answer: Well I work at *BIGBIGBIGCompany* but work for *OtherBigCompany* and am the team leader/supervisor of the legal records department. It's an okay job, they're letting me do flex time twice a week so I can work on writing a book, so that's cool.

Imagined answer: A boring boring job. Also I am trying to write a book.

3. Oooooooh. What's your book about?

Real answer: It's sort of a coming of age thing.

Imagined answer: Do you want to jinx me? Okay then, it's loosely based on my 19th year when I moved back home and everything sucked, but with more drama and y'know some funny bits, but mostly it's about loss of friendship and trust and regaining a sense of yourself after heartbreak on multiple levels and also about community and family and finding your place. Mostly.

back

2008-08-19T10:40:00.005+01:00

We're back in the UK.

You know how sometimes people come home from vacation and they're all like, I need a vacation to recover from my vacation!

And you're all like, whatever asshole, I feel really bad for you after you spent a week in Maui or wherever

Well I need about 2 weeks to sleep off the jet lag and sensory overload from this vacation. One week simply isn't enough time to attend 2 weddings and try to see everyone you know in the two states where you spent most of your life. Especially when you add on all the travel related hijinks that grow out of travelling standby.

So here, my friends, is the rundown of my week in America:

Friday 1

Wake up at quarter to five in the morning in London. Take a cab to Heathrow and hope to get on first flight of the morning to Chicago. No joy there as a a party of four with priority showed up at the last freaking minute. Wait 2 hours, drink a ginormous coffee and then head to the gate to try for a flight to DC. We get on! We get Business Class! We get champagne as soon as we sit down! We get to DC where we proceed to not get on the first flight to Detroit (there were priests ahead of us in the queue, we knew we were screwed) and then the Chicago flight that we would have gotten on begins to get delayed, repeatedly. Finally at about 7pm we realise that even though this flight is a sure thing we will not arrive in Chicago until 11:00pm which means we will not see a bed until almost midnight and then we will have to wake up at 6am to drive to Michigan. We say fuck it and rent the ugliest rental car ever in DC and begin to drive. We make it to Breezewood, Pa (America's truck stop) and foolishly decide to stay at the Howard Johnson's because we can get to it without making a left turn. We get a room and begin the perilous walk to Perkins for some monochrome dinner and then head to bed. Jeremy looked at the sheets before turning off the lights. I will hate him forever for this as it lead to a night of psychosomatic itching and the belief that I was being eaten alive by some strange new breed of bed bug.

Saturday 1

Wake up at 4:30 and shower in the most disgusting bathroom known to man. Go to one of the many gas stations in Breezewood, Pa and get a bunch of caffeinated drinks (and green apple flavored Jones Soda!!) and some granola bars and start driving. We stop in Ohio for sandwiches at a rest area where there is a sign advising us that it is illegal to bring a gun into the rest area. Guess this wasn't understood. Arrived in Ann Arbor at 12:30 begged and begged to be allowed to check in early, ran to Jerusalem Gardens and ate some food. SLEPT! Changed into wedding finery. I made a controversial decision to wear a black dress and was pleased to see, when we arrived at the Matthaei Botanical Gardens at least two other women in black dresses. The wedding of our friends Sara and Paul was beautiful. There was thunder throughout the ceremony but no rain, and then as they said their vows the sun came out. After the wedding it was on to the reception which was awesome and fun even if my feet were killing me and I was cursing myself for not bringing some back up shoes.

Sunday 1
Wake up drive to the wedding brunch held in a park in Ann Arbor. Hang for an hour drive to Cafe Marie in Ann Arbor to see my friend Kevin for the first time in four years and meet his baby daughter, Rachel aka Schmoop and see his wife Jenn for the second time ever. From Ann Arbor to Pleasant Ridge just outsdie Detroit where we dropped our stuff off at Jeremy's old friend Leah's and headed to Peking House in Royal Oak for dinner with 15 members of his family. Peking House is where they all go on NYE. One year I got to be a spy in the house of David there. Also they make delicious wonton soup. Returned to Leah's, drank some wine. Slept.

Monday
Target, purchased a lot of bedding. A lot. Bedding is expensive in the UK, alright? Went to Kohl's, bought work clothes, did not receive discount for having last name Kohl myself. Never do. Assholes. Hit graves of Jeremy's grandparents and mother and then got millkshakes at a Coney. Wondered if there is, like, a licensing board somewhere that has rules and regulations you must follow in order to open a coney. Should such an organizational body exist would they allow us to open a coney in London? Went to see Jeremy's dad and his girlfriend at their new place. Awkward, but that's normal. Go to see Jeremy's cousin Amy, Jeremy says the following, 'Y'know if you could find me a house in this neighborhood and a good job, we'd move back.' Amy gets a gleam in her eye. She is probably calling everyone she knows right now to see what's out there. Go to Cousin Josh's to hang out with his 8 month old and express envy over the huge rooms in his home. Return to Leah's go out to Woodward Avenue Brewery with her to discus life issues. return to house sleep.

Tuesday

Wake up at 7, drive to Port Huron, Meet Niece 1 at Denny's, eat breakfast, Jeremy is made paranoid by repeated insistent offers of coffee. Drive to Brother's house at 10:45 see sister in law and nieces 2 and 3, bring bribes in form of 1 talking cookie monster doll and one puppy that barks walks and sits (puppy is now names Princess Carolyn Elizabeth Kohl, Jr. Niece 2 is clearly a genius) at 12:15 head to meet parents for lunch at The Raven where I once saw an unfortunate young man play bad Oasis covers in a ruffled shirt. Eat lunch try to peer presure brother over Dad's cell phone to come out later for ice cream, go to bank and cash in US Savings Bonds, make £630, score. Get Life Insurance paperwork notarized so policy can be cashed in, head to Vantage Point for ice cream with niece 1, her boyfriend, parents and family friends. Boyfriend is cute but clearly trouble. Then we do a quick drive around Port Huron and my dad took us by my old house which now has a second house built on the lot and then on to Cheap Charlies, a restaurant where they purposely mispell everything on the menu, thus rendering it illegible to me, for dinner with parents, brother and his family. Tense, but that's not unexpected. Driveback to Detroit and get stuck in Dream Cruise traffic but eventually make it to my friend Lori's where I procede to drink a lot of Miller Lite. Slept.

Wednesday

Remarkably do not have horrific hangover from all the Miller Lite. Jeremy's dad picked us up at 9 AM and we got some tasty tasty breakfast in Royal Oak before doing the following: Wayne State University Campus (where I was flooded with memories both happy and sad and bought a t shirt), tried to get into the MOCAD but it was shut, so instead went to the Detroit Artists' Market and bought some art (actually one that looks a lot like the wooden piece featured on the image on the homepage), went to Greektown, ate some lemon chicken soup, gave leftover to a bum, bought a D shirt, wandered around, went to the Pewabic Pottery Factory bought a detroit tile and a gift for my grandparents, wandered around the Heidelberg Project and chatted with Tyree Guyton, I gave him some pence coins for the house that makes cents and then drove to his office where we bought a copy of the book about the project. Went back to Lori's and got proper drunk at the Cass Cafe just like old times.

Thursday

Woke up with a gigantic mosquito bite on my leg and a hangover to end all hangovers, but was still on the road by 7:30 to get to my grandparents in Three Rivers. Saw grandparents for an hour (not enough time) and then onto Kalamazoo to see one of my oldest friends Colleen for about an hour and a half (also not enough time) and then back on the road to Chicago. Went straight to Dana's and then on to the Chicago Diner for Chicago's best Bloody Mary (no joke, their bloody mary's are some kind of awesome) and then on to Simon's to meet with our hosts for the evening, Jessica and Brendan. Stayed up late talking and hanging with their dog Tulach (who is awesome and spazzy as hell) and then slept.

Friday 2

slept until ten in the morning, it was beautiful. Got breakfast in Wicker Park. Considered buying expensive shoes at Fluevog, still kind of wish I had. Buy books at Myopic based on recomendation from our friend Bengt's girlfirend Deena at the wedding written on a list that I stuffed into my bra then carriend around in the pocket of my jeans all week long, bought new pair of jeans at Free People, skinny jeans in fact, something I swore I would never do, but actually they look pretty cute. Then onto the rehearsal dinner where we sat at the kids' table with a bunch of friends. Back to J&B's where we saw our friend Keara and watched some swimming and discussed Michael Phelps's face (could only a mother love it?)

Saturday 2

Breakfast at god's gift to me, M Henry, I would happily, HAPPILY, eat at M Henry every day of my life. I had the breakfast bread and butter pudding topped with blackberries and peaches and a side of bacon and a side of potatoes and a bottomless cup of coffee and an orange juice and I was so very happy! We ate breakfast with Jeremy's cousin Karen, her husband Tony and their flirty flirty baby Theo. Then on to Ed and Poindexter's, platonic roommates and great big nerds, to change clothes and take a cab to the wedding of Tal and Anthony at the Glessner House on the southside of Chicago where we saw more friends, watched Ed and Poindexter get a phone number from the same girl (followed by a fight over who had dibs where I asked the following question: Maybe she'd like to decide who she has dibs on? and Poindexter replied, "We live in a patriarchy Carolyn") ate delicious food drank plenty of wine and danced a lot (I brought my converse this time, having learned from wedding #1) and then on to Brendan's birthday party and then sleep.

Sunday 2

Breakfast at the Flying Saucer where the waiter made fun of me for ordering bacon with a vegetarian entree and I was all like, whatevs dude just make it crispy. Then it was back to airport where we happily made it onto the first London flight available even if we were sent back to Economy Plus. I couldn't sleep at all on the flight so was able to watch Leatherheads, Son of Rambow, 21 and most of What Happens in Vegas before landing back in London at about 6 AM on Monday morning.

And that's it. Our trip back to the Midwest in full. I wish we'd had another week to spend there since it pretty much feels like we packed a month into one week. Still, I'm happy we saw as many people as we did and that we got to attend the weddings, I just wish I'd felt slightly more awake for them.

Mad Skills

2008-08-07T11:37:00.004+01:00

I have trained my cat! That's right, I have don the unthinkable, the unholy, I have convinced the cat to do what I want so he can get what he wants. It is astounding! I have taught Oliver to duet with me!

Me: If you're hungry and you know it say . .
Oliver: Meow
Me: If you're hungry and you know it say . . .
Oliver: Meow
Me: If you're hungry and you know it then your meows will surely show it, if you're hungry and you know it say . . .
Oliver: Meow
Me: If you're hungry and you know it say . . .
Oliver: Meow

And then I give him his wet food and he looks at me with disdain, but still, I made the cat sing! This is genius! Now I just have to figure out some other songs that will work.

Listen, I am sick of going to A&E!

2008-08-04T15:32:00.006+01:00

So this weekend, we went to see Timon of Athens at the Globe with some friends. Going to the Globe is my second favorite stereotypically touristy thing to do in London. The first is going to the Tate Modern. Anyhow, we stood in the yards and watched the play which was good. I knew very little about it going in and really enjoyed the staging of it, although do have a few issues with the fact that the only women who got speaking lines in it were hookers sent forth to give disease to the men of Athens, but whatever, pick your battles and all that.

Afterwards we went to Scooterworks and had some nice coffee and talked and then moved on to a restaurant called Tas for some mezze. While eating my eye began to itch, so I rubbed it lightly and then it began to itch more, so I rubbed it again, and then it started to hurt. So I went to the ladies' loo (alliteration, yay!) and tried to figure out what the hell was causing all this trouble. I pulled back the eyelids and looked in every direction, I dripped water into my eye to flush it out but couldn't find a damn thing. So I finished dinner with a hugely bloodshot eye and then we took the bus home.

After an hour it was still hurting, actually hurting more so Jeremy made me call the medical out of hours line for Southeast London and they were like "Dude, go to A&E." And I was like, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

But we went to A&E where the kind assessment nurse gave me some local anesthetic and that helped for a bit but since it took 2 hours in the waiting room to purgatory that is a London A&E (although at least this time there were no bloody tissues on the floor and we did get called back before they paged someone to come to the waiting room with a mop and bucket (score!)) to see anyone it wore off before we went back to meet my new friend Les the Nurse Practitioner.

Les poked at my eyelids with Q tips and gave me some bad flashbacks to my one viewing of The Clockwork Orange. Jeremy bravely turned his back to me and stared at a corner while I said the following "Ow, ow ow owowowowowowowow ow ow ow ow owowowowowo ow." And then, THEN, Les was all like, "Hey how about some more local anesthetic in your eyeball now after I've finished shoving foreign objects in your poor sad bloodshot aching watery eye, Caroline." Way to be, Les.

Anyhow, after dumping some orange dye into my eye and shining a million lights into it Les found some small abrasions on my cornea. There was nothing foreign in there just the scratches from whatever had caused the trouble in the first place. So Les gave me some eye drops and sent me home but asked me to come back in the morning to make sure everything was cool.

So home we went and I put the drops in my eyes and took the codeine he gave me for the pain so I would fall asleep more easily and put on an eye mask to keep myself from touching my eye anymore. The eye mask, sadly, is the reason I was unaware that Oliver the cat fell off the bedroom window ledge while hissing at the neighbor cat (a long haired black cat I like to call Trouble), but luckily, Oliver is a cat and he easily survived his tumble and is now much more careful when sitting on window ledges.

Anyhow, when I woke up on Sunday I was much improved, just itchy and a little swollen, no longer watering and painful. But we went back to see Les the sadist once more and he declared that I was much improved and that I should continue on with the drops and all should be well.

Today has been better as well, but still, enough with the A&E for the summer, okay? Twice in one summer is more than enough, I think I've met my quota now and will happily stay away for the next year or ten if possible.

Green tea is not enough

2008-07-29T15:53:00.004+01:00

What I need every day - this list of demands in not negotiable:

At least two large cups of good quality coffee prepared by someone else. If possible Vietnamese coffee 2x a week, cappucino's 2x a week and regular filter with milk 1x a week.
Cigarettes that do not cause cancer
An extra 3 hours
More sleep
Trousers that are not ugly
More vacation time
A helper monkey
Air conditioning in my bedroom
More self confidence
Hammocks and nap time
ETA 30 July 2008: Cherry was right, but I'm going to demand GBP rather than USD £3,500. Not too much, but really, just enough.

Okay then, get started

God Bless the USA

2008-07-28T12:15:00.003+01:00

So in the midst of trying to plan this upcoming trip home and feeling all sorts of aggro about my family I got an email from my dad. I was prepared to be annoyed and bothered and possibly bewildered, but instead (oh a blessed instead) I was pleased to read that my Dad had located $250 worth of US Savings Bonds that we had all forgotten about!

$150 of these were gifts when I was a baby and $100 came when I won The Voice of Democracy Speech Contest in 1994 which was sponsored by the VFW. Even better, these savings bonds are now worth $633 and some odd cents. Sweet! According to the old man I'll get taxed on $495 of this but still, that's pretty awesome.

It's like I picked up a really good Community Chest card in Monopoly, better even than winning 2nd place in a fashion show. This will pay for our car rental and a couple American sized breakfasts as well.

Thanks America!

For the Birds

2008-07-25T11:28:00.007+01:00

About a hundred years ago when we were on vacation there was one day when I was standing in the sea while Jeremy lounged on the beach trying to read Don Quixote (he claimed, I suspect this was an elaborate code for napping) and drinking Coco Locos. I was jumping into the waves and floating tranquilly under a sky that was shifting from blue to overcast and back again every few minutes.

Nearer to the beach there were two pelicans floating in the water looking for fish. And near the pelicans there were tons of tourists crowding around taking pictures of the strange, almost prehistoric birds and they waited for some lunch (the pelicans did not have orange wristbands so they could not go to the buffet like us).

While I was watching the people watching the pelicans one of the birds suddenly shot up into the air and then arced over my head and into the water about 20 feet away from me. He was so fast that I couldn't see if he caught anything. Still it was an impressive display. I don't know why but it's an image that sticks with me now. O rather, a sequence of images, from the human need to gawk to the animal need to hunt.

There must some symbolism in there someplace.

pros (+) and cons (-)

2008-07-23T14:01:00.004+01:00

+Flex time kicks ass.
+I have written approx 10 pages this week so far. I know that doesn't sound like a ton, but it was all long hand, so that makes it more labor intensive.
+The coffee we brought back from DR is so freaking good
-Jeremy got in a bicycle accident on Monday night
-He has a minor concussion
-His hand is all scraped up
+He wasn't hurt any worse than that
+He was wearing a helmet
-3 hours in the Lewisham A&E Monday night was not a fun time
+3 hours is actually a really short amount of time to wait in A&E
-Planning our trip back to Michigan is kicking my ass
-A part of me is hoping our standby tickets don't work out
+It will be really great to go to the 2 weddings we're attending and to see lots of our friends
-Family squabbles are getting me down right now and probably will continue to do so for a few more weeks
+ + 2 birthday parties this weekne
+ Also one trip to the spa in Bethnal Green
-No more flex time this week.

+ = 9
- = 8
Phew

ugh

2008-07-21T12:38:00.003+01:00

I'm trying to find the type of quote an 18 year old would make note of before leaving home all full of optimism, piss, and vinegar, and the quote websites are scrambling my brains to the point that I can't even think of good song lyricsor anything. Any suggestions would be appreciated.

In more pleasant news, we painted our bedroom this weekend, it is a lovely pale green now. soon we will put some vintage green wallpaper up on two of the smaller walls and then our bedroom will be complete. So long as we don't totally fuck up the wallpapering. I have wall papered before but have mostly blocked out the experience.

But still, the room looks nicer now that is an actual color rather than the non-color it was before (which was not bad just creamy and dull, the color you paint the walls when it's time to sell your house and you need to be as inoffensive as possible, or if you are boring, and I'm pretty sure these both are the case with the previous owner of our home).

And y'know other stuff, discovered delicious brownies at the new cafe near my house. Wrote three pages this morning during my flex time, Oliver still cute, Jeremy still a dork, life still good.

Finally

2008-07-18T09:28:00.002+01:00

I haven't been able to post on here all week and I know that all my devoted readers are dying to hear about the minutiae of my life. How have any of survived this silent, silent week? Damn you Blogger for hurting people!

Yeah, not much going on really. London is grey and rainy. I got approved to do 2 days of flextime each week (yay!) so on Mondays and Wednesdays I will now be working from 11 to 19:30 instead of 9 to 17:30. I am really happy about this arrangement.

I bought a new messenger bag. It's a Pantone bag in bright blue with a white and black Pantone label across the bottom. It is sleeker than my old bag and I love it.

Oliver remains cute.

My 16 year old niece continues to prove that she may be the most grown up member of our family. I imagine it's because she's the only black belt.

Last night Jeremy and I sat in the garden and smoked cigars and looked at our passion fruit blossoms and new grapes. It was a nice way to pass the evening.

My Favorite Thing about Facebook is the Status Update (and when boys I used to have crushes on find me)

2008-07-11T13:35:00.005+01:00

Carolyn is feeling homesick for Chicago
Carolyn knows that the Chicago she is homesick for is no longer there, life being an ever changing thing, nevertheless, she remains homesick.
Carolyn has had weird chest pains since Sunday.
Carolyn was convinced these chest pains were caused by some sort of exotic disease contracted whilst on holiday and was certain she was going to die.
Carolyn began writing her will.
Carolyn decided to call NHS Direct before completing her will.
Carolyn followed the advice of the nurse at NHS Direct and contacted her local out of hours GP service.
Carolyn was then deeply annoyed by the rude receptionist (since when is it okay to get all shirty with someone who's been in pain since Sunday and is just trying to keep from DYING?).
Carolyn then found out that she somehow strained her chest muscles.
Carolyn didn't even know she had chest muscles, she just thought they were boobs.
Carolyn doesn't even know how she could have possibly strained the muscles in her chest. She does not lead a strenuous life.
Carolyn is now convinced that she was abducted by aliens on Saturday night.
Carolyn never got abducted by aliens when she lived in Chicago.
Carolyn always knew where her injuries came from when she lived in the midwest. Except for when she drank way too much, but even then she could usually retrace her steps to the point of origin.
Carolyn once bashed her head when she fell off a snowbank in Detroit. Her roommate asked her if she was dead before helping her up.
Carolyn was mortified when the next day her writing professor sent a cute boy to the Cass Cafe to check her out while she had a scabby bruised head.
Carolyn still had about 5 beers with him at the 2nd Street Saloon and then they dated for about 2 months before Carolyn wigged out and acted like a nutbar.
Carolyn has always been exceptionally good at wigging out like a nutbar, especially where cute boys are concerned.
Carolyn would like to point out at this point, that he was also a little bit of a nutbar, just more quietly so.
Carolyn found it unacceptable that he used to come up to her after they stopped having naked times and give her a hug as if they were such good friends, they were not such good friends, he dumped Carolyn via email and she was not over it yet!
Carolyn was not ready for hugging yet and therefore took to hiding in whatever campus building was available whenever she sighted the aforementioned cute boy.
Carolyn 's college years were clearly fraught with drama.
Carolyn is happy to be out of the dating scene.
Carolyn is still feeling homesick though.
Carolyn would just like a taco or some Hot Doug's.

Hold Music

2008-07-08T15:31:00.002+01:00

Today's conference call is brought to you by that timeless hit, King of the Road.

I used to be able to play this song on the clarinet. In fact, King of the Road, was a yearly feature of the Chippewa Junior High School end of the year concert. Mr. Unger, best known the spit that would collect in his lower lip and occasionally launch independently at those youngsters both talented and unlucky enough to sit in the front row during class, used to dance around singing 'Ain't got no cigarettes,' as we played.

Word, Mr. Unger. I ain't got no cigarettes either. All I got is hold music and a desk full of files.

Oh crap, and now I've got that Goo Goo Dolls song from that movie with Meg Ryan and Nicholas Cage, you know the one where he's an angel and she rides her bike into a truck done elevator style. Crap. Why couldn't they just put King of the Road on repeat?

Okay, so if I've been on hold for 12 minutes and 4 songs is it safe to assume that the conference call is not going to happen or do I give it one more song? A song that just might be Ben, heavy on the flutes?

Pictures

2008-07-03T15:28:00.001+01:00

http://www.flickr.com/photos/46878031@N00/sets/72157605957608381

Returns

2008-07-02T09:07:00.005+01:00

So, now that my brain is mostly functional again I can safely tell you that my trip was almost entirely awesome. Let's break it down into list form.

Snags

I don't know if you were aware of this or not, but I already have loads of white middle class guilt. Seriously, I'm really good at it. I've read that article about the invisible knapsack of white privilege like a million times, so going to a country where the average citizen makes between $5 and $7,000 USD per annum did not help lighten my load. We took a day trip to the town of La Romana, and the Caves of Wonder and the replica village of Altos de Chavos and the divide between rich and poor was made overwhelmingly clear. Also, our guide Raymond (say it RAY-mone) made his dislike for all thing Haitian abundantly clear. It wasn't a bad trip, but it also wasn't an easy trip for me, spent in the relative comfort of an air conditioned bus with bottled water and other spoiled tourists. I know we were bringing commerce and supporting people by plugging our money into the economy but still, it felt weird.
Even though I did not touch the tap water, well I touched it, but not with my mouth, my stomach still went into revolt by the last three days. It wasn't hurting or anything, it just wasn't holding onto anything for very long. I think this was more due to the heavy greasy (delicious) foods at the hotel than anything else. Or maybe it was the Kontiki party boat where everyone was almost aggressively happy. My stomach, clearly, can only withstand so many demands that I party.
Snorkeling is not my scene. After jumping off the Kontiki party boat with every intention to feed fish above a coral reef, I started to inhale water and freak out. So after hyperventilating I decided to return to the party boat and feed myself some more rum. luckily, even though I was the first to return I was quickly joined by other members of our team who also found themselves unsuited to such activities.

Awesomeness

The wedding was beautiful. Dana and Marc were married on the beach in front of a palm tree and an arbor covered in palm branches and tropical flowers. I will post pictures tonight. She wore a simple strapless white dress and some really gorgeous jewellery (she is a jeweller after all, she referred to the dress as a base for the accessories). The ceremony was accompanied by music from a band of three men who sang and played as the marriage certificate was signed and also viewed by about 40 beach goers including two topless little girls who very stealthily snuck up to the middle of the actual attendees to take pictures.
Oh my God, rum cocktails before noon are totally the way to start your day (hey, maybe that's why my stomach wasn't feeling very well by the end of the trip). Have you had a Coco Loco yet? You should!
The beach was great. I spent a lot of time there.
Massage with hot stones for at least half the price such luxury would cost in London, probably a quarter of the cost really.
The orange wristband. Sure it was pretty gross after seven solid days of wear, but it allowed me to eat and drink wherever I wanted to on the complex. Some people had yellow and blue wristbands, thus limiting their choices. Members of our party often wondered why those people even bothered going on vacation, nay, why did they even bother to exist when their experience was so clearly inferior to ours.
We made new friends and got to know old acquaintances better. the 30 wedding attendees came from all over. Ireland, New York, London (ahem), Chicago, and Ann Arbor, Mi. Some of them I knew vaguely, having met them when I lived with Dana, some I had only heard of and some I have known for ages. All were really awesome and fun and funny. I think by the end of the reception we were all hoping to be made part of Marc's family. He already has 7 siblings, what's a few more?
Jeremy bought me a pack of cigarettes! It was like the world went mad! He was smoking cigars and felt guilty so the only way he could think to appease himself was to buy me a pack of Winstons and claim that it was okay for me to smoke since it was vacation. I was all like, why don't you buy that kind of logic when I use it? And he was all like, just take this gift and leave me alone, puff puff.
Banana Mangu. The delicious Dominican breakfast treat. Mashed bananas, baked with onions on top, it's a savoury mind boggling treat.
Fresh mangoes for breakfast every single morning.
Baby peacocks, everywhere!
Flamingos!
No sunburn! Oh they laughed at my SPF 50 until they saw that I was the only one without glowing red skin (poor Erin brought SPF 70 and still got attacked by the cruel equatorial sun)
Palm thatched umbrellas on the beach
Palm thatched umbrellas near the pool
Law and Order episodes on the tv whenever I needed a break
Beautiful flowers everywhere
Laying on deckchairs on the beach at 1 in the morning listening to Marc and his siblings sing Irish folk songs with waves crashing in the background
Tropical thunderstorms while sitting in an open air bar drinking bloody marys and listening to the rain.
Full relaxation. On most vacations we end up doing a lot of running around trying to see everything, this vacation involved napping and not doing much of anything and that was exactly what we needed. I don't know if I ever need to do the whole all inclusive resort thing ever again (or at least for another 5-7 years) but it was really nice to do it this once.

For pictures either go to my facebook profile or here

Bad Idea Central

2008-07-01T10:55:00.003+01:00

So when Jeremy was ll like, you should just go straight into the office from the airport on Tuesday morning, I should have been all like, no I shouldn't, you crackhead.

But here I am with droopy eyes wondering why it isn't socially acceptable to start drinking rum based cocktails before noon in my everyday life. Why isn't that acceptable, anyhow? Why?

On my Way

2008-06-22T11:11:00.001+01:00

So I've just got to pack and take care of some unsightly hairs and I will be ready for vacation.

See you suckers in a week and two days.

Soooooo Close

2008-06-20T15:43:00.002+01:00

I am almost done with this, the longest week in the history of the world. I have only 1 hour and 15 minutes (give or take 15 minutes) until I will safely be on my way to the weekend and therefore on my way to vacation.

Jeremy has our Malaria tablets. We have purchased travel insurance. My bathing suits are clean. I have a floppy hat. IT IS TIME TO GO!!!!

I feel sort of like a little kid who's woken up to early on Christmas and has to wait just a little bit longer to wake up her parents because she knows that if she goes in before 6 they'll just take even longer to get up.

Newsflash

2008-06-17T15:33:00.002+01:00

Did you know that there's malaria in Dominican Republic? Well there is. So I have to take special malarial pills and be concerned about yet another disease! While drinking mojitos!

Who knew vacation could be so hard.

One. More. Week.

2008-06-16T16:21:00.002+01:00

The week before vacation is the cruelest of all weeks. Crueler than the week before Christmas. Crueler than the week before my birthday. Crueler than the week before being executed for a crime you did not commit (I assume). My brain has officially shut down and all it can think is, "Mojito mojito mojito mojito beach mojito beach beach mojito." My brain can't be assed to care about records management right now. It doesn't care about scanning procedures or file retention. My brain couldn't give whether or not I ever write that stupid novel. My brain wants to sit on the beach reading pulpy murder mysteries and sipping a drink whilst wearing a floppy straw hat, new bathing suit and some SPF 50.

The week before vacation is not okay. I have decided which dress I will wear at the wedding. I have a new denim skirt and plenty of sundresses. I am ready! Why do I have to keep waiting? Why is my life so unfair??

I don't even know how I'm going to make it through one more hour of work today, much less the remaining 4 days of my work week. Obviously God hates me for some unspecified reason. Probably for marrying Jeremy. Clearly the consequences of my interfaith marraige are making themselves known now in this, the final tedious week before my vacation.

It's hard to be me. Really, it is, I don't recommend it. At least not until next week.

I hate my head

2008-06-11T14:47:00.003+01:00

I have had a head cold practically forever (in this instance forever = approx 2 weeks) and I am tired as hell of it. Whenever I get sick I get this horrible loud disgusting sounding cough that makes people think I am dying. So even when I no longer feel unwell enough to stay home, I still sound all contagious and grody and it is no fun. No fun at all.

Also I have been having weird dizzy spells so I went to see the doctor and had some blood tests done and now I am waiting for results and whilst waiting for results I am imaging the most horrible diseases possible must be germinating in my body just waiting for discovery as they gleefully rub their diseased hands together and cackle at my misfortune. I'l probably be dead by next week, just wait.

Or I just need to stop eating rice krispy treats for breakfast, whatever.

But, our bathroom is very nearly completely done. The shower works (but the water temp needs to go a little lower so it is not always almost too hot), the bathtub is awesome and the toilet flushes like a champ. we just need to put up the cabinets and fancy light over the mirror, and get the underfloor heating hooked up. The whole thing is really pretty and well layed out and I am pretty in love with it. I will post photos once the light and cabinets are sorted. Eventually we are going to get a stained glass panel to put in the window so we can throw out the tatty curtain currently in use.

We are also looking for a small table for the bedroom and some sort of comfy yet still stylish mid century modern leather chair for Jeremy to go in the living room. He needs something to lounge in, but stylishly so. We were down in Crystal Palace at the awesome antique market there on Saturday and it was way more crowded than usual and we both felt very concerned about the all the people in our secret shop until we realised that it only seemed crowded because we were there before noon instead of rushing through like crazy people an hour before closing.

And, most importantly, there are only 12 days between me and the Dominican Republic. 12 short and tiny days. I bought a new bathing suit, a floppy hat, a sundress, a short jean skirt, and a cover up thingama in preparation. Bring on the SPF 50 I'm going to the tropics.

Toilet Watch 2008

2008-06-03T11:06:00.003+01:00

Ladies and gentlemen, we have achieved functional toilet status! Hooray!

Yesterday I got home and first I saw that there was no longer a bathtup in my dining room and I started to giggle. Then I ran upstairs and I saw a toilet with a tank and flush handle and I started to giggle more. Then I saw that the sink was in place and the shower was in place and that the tup was almost in place and I nearly cried!

There were some defects in the taps so we have to wait until tomorrow for the plumbing to get hooked up on the tub, shower and sink to get hooked up, but, dudes, we are so close! The bathroom is almost done. And let me tell you, it is going to be so beautiful and awesome. The walls are painted a slatey blue and the floor is a slate effect tile and one wall is all cream tiles with a center border of natural stones and I have never loved a room as much as I am going to love this bathroom with it's claw foot bath tub and underfloor heating.

I know, I know, I'm a big materialistic nerd, but really I don't care very much because my bathroom is totally going to kick the asses of all the other bathrooms in town.

Stories from the War

2008-06-02T15:36:00.003+01:00

On Saturday we went to a friend's birthday party in Blackheath. Upon arriving we were handed a bunch of sweets and some twine and ordered to "Tie them to the tree in the garden!" We assumed we'd have only one tree to choose from, as this would be the case in our typical tiny garden. But when we went down the stairs and out through a dark scary passage we found ourselves in the hugest garden in all of London (maybe not really) where our hostess's mother, Esme, was outdoors tending the disposable barbecues whilst drinking some whine and smoking a cigarette.
Jeremy and I got to talking to Esme as we tied sweets to multiple trees and flowering vines and even a random knife stuck in the garden wall (we chose not to ask how it got there) and she told us about living in Brixton immediately after the war when she was small and how they used to play cricket in bombed out buildings and how it seemed like the most magical place in the world to her. She asked us if any of our relatives were involved in the war and I told her how my grandfather and three of his brothers joined up on the same day and a recruiter went down the line of them pointing to each saying "Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines!" And they each went their separate ways.
Jeremy said that his grandfather was an army dentist but never left the US and then explained how just his Bubbie and her sister and their cousins Paula and Joe made it out of Austria and the rest of the family died. And Esme told us how she and her siblings were evacuated from London at the start of the war and that most children were sent by themselves with their names and addresses and all pertinent information pinned to their jackets but her mother refused to leave her children. So they left her father in the city where he helped care for horses, and they all shipped out to the country where they lived on the edges of a grand estate with all the others who'd been evacuated, including lots of Jewish German children who'd been sent out of Germany just in time.
One of these German Jewish children was a little boy named Nathanial and at age 5 he was Esme's first love. One day the 2 of them walked together to the vicarage garden and he picked her as many flowers as he could and filled up her doll pram with blossoms then the two of them walked into town arm in arm together where the vicar shouted at Nathanial for stealing the flowers. Esme said that as it happened all she could think was "Why are they yelling at him? He's just done the most wonderful thing!"
I think that this is possibly the best story I have heard in a very long time. Possibly ever.

for the love of pooping!

2008-06-02T11:00:00.002+01:00

So before I was grouchy about hpw I had no shower. Actually I had no clue, that was before I spent the weekend without a toilet. Mario the builder claimed we would only be without a toilet on Friday night and Saturday during the day. But mayve the Slovakian word for Saturday is the same as Sunday and Monday morning because guess what we still don't have? A goddamned toilet!

He also thought it would be an awesome idea to use one of our nice towels to mop up the leak from the toilet pipe. And then he just threw it onto the trash heap that is currently our back garden. Normally I don't give that big a shit about my towels, they're just towels after all, but then I've never used any of them to mop up leaks from the toilet pipe either, and I certainly wouldn't use the ones we were given as wedding presents.

Honestly, I probably wouldn't have cared but by day 2 of no toilet I was kind of at the end of my rope. Luckily some friends of our were out of town over the weekend and were kind enough to leave us keys to their flat so we were able to shower and use the facilities, and then on Sunday they were again kind enough to let me crash again, but I just really want my house and my poop room back to normal again. Mario claims he will be finished today, but I have my doubts.

The tiles are all at least in and tey are beautiful, the shower head and tray have been installed, also lovely. But really, mostly, I just want a functioning toilet and unmolested towels right now. Is that so much to ask?

The land of no bathroom

2008-05-30T14:19:00.002+01:00

So we currently have a toilet. No, wait, up until this morning we had a toilet, now, we have no toilet. Lucky we have friends who are going out of town this weekend so we aren't totally SOL but we are pretty sick of it.

Oliver is at the end of his rope too. Yesterday when I came home he was standing on the dining room table and when I walked up to him he put his paws on my chest and rubbed his nose against my mouth then promptly leaned over and bit my wrist, as if to say, 'Listen, lady, I love you, but this is fucking ridiculous.'

He's right, it is, and I know it will be great when it's all done, it just feels like it's taking for fucking ever and I want to take a shower in my own home again! I was not designed for this life of inconvenience, I am a member of the middle class, I demand underfloor heating and luxurious baths, and I demand them now!

Chucks

2008-05-27T11:08:00.004+01:00

I Bought some new shoes yesterday. My first ever pair of black Converse All Star Lo Tops. I've had millions of pairs of Chuck Taylor Hi Tops but never the Los. When I started wanting a lower version of the classic I fell in love with the suede Los with the white leather stars and the arrow type thing, either in dark green or grey blue. Even when I started mixing up the height of my Chuck Taylors, I always kept basic black on hand and only in the last year did I finally throw out the pair I bought my senior year in high school. There was a beatnik drawn on the toe courtesy of my friend Colleen.

My first pair were bought with my honor roll money in the 8th grade. I forget why I thought I needed them so desperately, I just knew I did. The store I bought them from only had them in men's sizes and they were too big for me and made me look like I was wearing clown shoes.

As I got older my feet grew into them (sometimes I think my feet stopped growing when my toes hit the white rubber guard because they knew they had found a suitable home) and I began to buy more and more Converse of varying colors.

Fluorescent Orange Converse (purchased by my Grandma Sadler at a garage sale)

Tri-colored Converse in pink, pale blue, and pale green from the $5 and $10 shop at the mall

Pink Converse (again courtesy of Grandma S and worn with dresses)

Green suede Los

Blue suede Los

I think one pair of brown suede Los as well

I have a vague memory of blue His too but I'm not sure

My friend Laura had yellow and black checkerboard His that were bright as taxi cabs. Heidi had a pair of denim ones and the all blacks with the blacked out star and soles. We used to hit the 5 and 10 every weekend and ravage their shelves in search of different styles. Sadly they never had any of the fold over ones (you know they'd reach up your calf if fully laced but would be one color on the outside and another on the inside so you could fold them down) in my size. The bast thing about my black hi tops was that I wore them down according to my slouch. When I last put them on my feet immediately rolled to the outside edges and suddenly I was standing like High School Me. Shoes as time machine.

Eventually I moved on to other styles, I've had flirtations with Gola and Saucony, but I feel sort of wrong if there isn't at least one pair of Converse in my closet. For the past year I've been meaning to buy a pair of the lo tops as I feel they are the ideal sneaker to pair with dresses and skirts and jeans and shorts and EVERYTHING really. Not that I don't love my brown and lime Golas. I do, I really do. But no matter how nice they are, they aren't Chuck Taylors. Also they don't match either of my red skirts.

How did you get here last month?

2008-05-21T13:39:00.002+01:00

Search queries that brought the people to me:

3 People
don't hate girl don't hate lyrics
If you're still looking, that's from Gold Digger by Mr Kanye West and is a good line to sing to your fella when you are trouncing him at Dominoes.

1 Person
sinead o'connor hippie
I've never considered Sinead to be a hippie. More of a free spirit.

1 Person
how do you know if narrator is reliable
This, my friends, is a tricky question. How DO you know if a narrator is reliable? You can't rely on everyone to be as honest as me and declare it in the title. You have to rely on textual clues. How do other characters react to the narrator? How do the narrator's actions back up his/her words? But really, ultimately, there is no way to conclusively know if a narrator is reliable, I would argue that you can't even be sure of a third person narrator as they can be the biggest liars of all. It's all about perception and perception is always skewed one way or the other, there's just no way to know for sure who's telling you lies. Everything has the potential to become a twisty noir narrative if you look into it deeply enough. All narration is flawed. That's the beauty of stories.

1 person
sebadoh reissue
1 person
sebadoh bubble and scrape reissue blogspot
It's good, you should buy it, unless you have the original, then you are cooler than me

1 person
carolyn kohl
That's my name, don't wear it out

1 person
modigliani grave
It's in Pere Lachaise cemetery and it is pretty nondescript. His lover Jeanne Hebuterne's grave is next to him. She jumped out a window shortly after he died. They had a very tempestuous relationship and were famous for their arguments

One Month and 2 days

2008-05-21T10:25:00.003+01:00

In one month and two days I will be in the Dominican Republic. One month and 2 days. The picture at left is going to be pasted into my mind as I try to make this month and 2 days go by as quickly as possible.

Because during this one month and 2 days my bathroom is going to be ripped out and I won't have a shower for at least a week and a half. I still have to work and be generally responsible. I still have to do lots of things that don't involve sitting on that beach and drinking cocktails. How is that right? It's not right, not right at all.

At least I've got another Bank Holiday on Monday. Small blessings.

One month and 2 days, one month and 2 days.

Can't Get No (sing it like Devo, not Jagger)

2008-05-16T15:28:00.003+01:00

This week I am solidly lacking in anything near satisfaction.

Job Satisfaction
Life Satisfaction
Creative Satisfaction
And it is all making me cranky. I keep shouting DIVORCE at Jeremy because he is getting on my nerves hard. And it's not even his fault, he's just being normal, it's me who's got the angst hard on.

So I'm trying to decide what to do about all this. I can't quit my job, because I need it in order to pay my mortgage and buy clothes at Primark and drinks at the pub. But I can start using my freetime more productively by starting to freelance.

I've always been scared of freelancing because I don't want to start thinking of writing as a chore, but seriously, it might be time to take that risk. The file factory is a chore and I still show up every stupid day. Why not at least spend some of my time doing a chore I find at least a little bit enjoyable. My excuses are silly and I need to stop making them. I'm hoping that if I can change one thing and start focussing on this important aspect of my life it will carry over and make me less miserable in other aspects.

I just need to motivate myself now. Unfortunately, that's my main weakness in life. I'm really good at motivating myself to watch American Idol or to look at every picture ever posted on I Can Has Cheezburger but am really crap at motivating myself to follow through with my writing. Probably (and by probably I mean definitely) because I'm scared that I'll suck.

So tell me internets, how do you motivate yourselves? What makes you get off your ass and actually follow through? Do I need to pud a shock pad in my sofa?

Another One Bites the Dust

2008-05-15T09:56:00.001+01:00

Facebook just got blocked at work!

What the hell? I know, I know, technically, it has nothing to do with Legal Records, but I need the Scrabulous damnit! Totally lame.

I like books

2008-05-15T09:08:00.002+01:00

I recently joined a website called BookMooch. It's set up to allow people to trade books all over the world and it's pretty cool. You only pay for the cost of shipping the books away from you and in return you get books back. It all works on a point system based on where you send the books. If you send the book to someone in your own country you get one point and if you send it out of your country you get 3. Likewise it costs you points to request a book. 1 point for books in country and 2 for out of country. You get to set up a wishlist and they tell you when the books you want become available. It;s a really nice setup that lets you get rid of the books you don't want anymore and also lets you pick up a bunch of sort of free books as well.

A lot of people register the books on BookCrossing so you can trace them around the world as well. I've only been doing it about 4 weeks now but so far I am very happy with it. The costs of shipping the books is much less than purchasing new books and I find it really nice to receive these little bundles in the post. Even though I've requested them and I know they are coming it is still awesome to get packages that aren't bombs or coated in Anthrax.

So yay for books! Especially the fluffy books I would normally feel guilty about buying!

You want to know what doesn't work?

2008-05-12T09:40:00.005+01:00

The cd players and mixing equipment at The Dogstar in Brxton. Also, the lines of communication between their 4 managers a pretty crap as well.

But still, we persevered and My Awesome Mixtape was an awesome night with much dancing (I pogoed a lot and shouted at people about acupuncture). My set was good although pretty light on the dancing as it was still early, although 2 girls did dance to Debaser and a lovely girl named Cordelia came up to me later and said she thought my set was great. I think Cordelia is great!

That's a picture of me helping Paula test the light with her camera. She wanted to see movement lines but mostly she just got me doing jazz hands. I was also trying to simultaneously eat a burrito and learn how to work the mixer while drinking a beer. Somehow I managed to accomplish all these feats. I am fucking talented. I don't remember my set list in it's entirety (or even in proper order because there were some malfunctions) but I can tell you that I stared off with Never Said by Liz Phair and Mandinka by Sinead O'Connor and then played songs by the following fine artists:

Caetano Veloso (Alegria, Alegria)
Cat Stevens (Here Comes my Baby)
G Love and The Speacial Sauce (My Baby Got Sauce)
Kanye West (All Falls Down)
OutKast (HeyYa)
Breeders (Saints and Cannonball)
Pixies (Debaser)
All Girl Summer Fun Band (Dear Mr and Mrs Troublemaker)
Starlight Mints (Submarine)
The Clash (London Calling)
Blur (Song 2)
T Rex (Children of the Relolution)
The New Pornographers (Mass Romantic and My Slow Descent Into Alcoholism)
The Bangles (Hazy Shade of Winter)
Nation of Ulysses (You're My Miss Washington DC)
Drive By Truckers (Too Much Sex (Too Little Jesus))
Cibo Mato (Birthday Cake)
Sleater-Kinney (I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone)

And other stuff that I can't remember. Sadly the CD players I was using would not accept 9 to 5, Liz Phair's cover of Turning Japanese or Here Comes Your Man.

Over all, it was a really great night. we think that we had approx 70 people there over the course of the night and there was loads of dancing and even a few hi jinx were got up to. Jeremy played Sex Machine, Tragedy, lots of Blondie, Star Wars Disco and many other awesome songs (despite the order he received from one friend of a friend to "Play something I know!") Harvey rocked some Ben Folds Five, A Ha, more New Pornographers, and lots of other good stuff I can't remember. The main thing I remember about Julia's set was that she played Part Time Lover and I had to defend Stevie Wonder's honor quite vociferously.

Most importantly, we got our deposit back because our friends are a bunch of drunks who spent a total of £1600 at the bar.

And, in case you were wondering, I have had Hanging on the Telephone by Blondie stuck in my head since Friday.

My Awesome Mixtape

You wanna know what works?

2008-05-09T11:18:00.003+01:00

Acupuncture, that's what works! I was in pain all day yesterday after my physio therapy appointment with Andrei the sadist and then I went to see Dan the hippy and he stuck needles in my neck, hands, lower back and left ankle and when I stood up at 9pm I was no longer in pain!

Conclusion: Dan the hippy fucking rules and deserves the £40 I give him each week to stick needles in me.

He didn't even care about my stinky feet, I just may marry him.

ETA I sat on the ground for lunch today and when I stood up I felt fine! No Pain! It was awesome!

Gimme Indie Rock (written as an elementery school student would write an essay)

2008-05-08T16:47:00.003+01:00

I saw Sebadoh last night. They were good. They played all of Bubble and Scrape and then a few other songs as well. And all the girls sighed over Lou Barlow. I bought the reissue of Bubble and Scrape because even though I always liked Sebadoh a lot I never had any of their albums.

I am glad I got to see Sebadoh play live. I like them and I like their lo-fi brand of rock n roll.

Carolyn is full of grouchiness and more grouchiness

2008-05-07T10:49:00.002+01:00

I broke my thermos yesterday. I tripped on my way up the steps and my thermos hit the floor and made a load crash and when I picked it up I could hear the lining moving around in a million little pieces like all of James Frey's drug addled lies. This means I have to pay for overpriced London lunches until I can replace my poor green thermos.
Our dining room is full of bathroom stuff until the week of the 19th. If we tried to sell the house now would this qualify as a second bathroom?
I had a weird dizzy spell yesterday and am having other small ones today. Panic attacks or onset of some stupid bug? Who knows.
These dizy spells coincide with Sebadoh day! Not fair!!!
I just feel generally curmudgeonly, maybe this is all some sort of subconscious prepwork for my role as DJ Zbornak, maybe I am just a miserable cow who is always meant to be grouchy. I don't know but I'm already sick of myself
I am really on the fence about playing Everything is Everything by Lauryn Hill on Friday as one of my opening songs. I am the first person playing music so I want to start off a little bit slow, first two songs likely to be this and Never Said by Liz Phar followd by Kanye West's All Falls Down and then I'll just start grabbing CDs at random. Is this too schizophrenic a start? I don't want to waste my best songs before people are ready to dance but maybe I should start strong. Making people dance is complicated.
My stomach feels like butt. I hate my stomach. My head hurts too. I hate my head.
grumpus grouch complain and moan

Ahh London

2008-05-06T10:56:00.003+01:00

So on Saturday we were walking to a friend's 50th birthday party at the other end of lovely Nunhead from where we live and as we were strolling down Nunhead Lane we passed a group of young men (seriously, young, like the oldest was maybe 16) carrying planks with nails sticking out of the ends, baseball bats and rocks. Now maybe, just maybe, I'm judging here, but I'm pretty sure that no one has ever been up to good when they walk down the road with a wooden plank full of nails. No, I'm pretty sure that such a tool, especially combined with the other items mentioned are surely implements of no good. So we waited until we were out of earshot of these fine young citizens and called the cops as fast as our fingers could dial 999, which is pretty fast.

Within seconds of the call we heard and saw at least 3 cop cars in the neighbourhood with sirens and lights looking for these nogoodniks, but I chaven't been able to find out if anything actually went down. It was all pretty fucked up. I've never, not even in Detroit, witnessed a group of kids so obviously kitted out to fuck shit up. Maybe the kids in Detroit are just better at hiding their tools, or maybe it's just that guns are smaller. Although I only ever heard a gunshot in Detroit after the Red Wings won the Stanley Cup (sure I heard a lot of cars backfiring, but that's all that was cars backfiring, not gunshots, no no no.)

It's weird, even though I feel generally safer here than I did in Detroit, Vegas or Chicago there is also a greater feeling of unpredictability in London. People just seem to have a lot more aggression kept just under the surface here than they do in The States. I hate being out right after the pubs close, because some nights it feels like every drunk on the street is spoiling for a fight and they don't care who they have that fight with. I don't know if it's caused by lack of space, English drinking culture, or frustration over the recent elections, but the potential for violence always seems to be just under the surface here in a way that it wasn't in the cities I've lived in before even though I would say that all three of those cities were certainly more outwardly violent than London.

Criminal Acts Witnessed by Me since leaving Port Huron:

Street fight conducted in front of my appartment on Ferry Street in Detroit Summer 98. Started when one dude closed another dude on the sidewalk for no obvious reason then they both went away and came back from opposite directions with friends. At one point the clothesliner requested that I 'tell this bitch to get off your property.' I let him know that I was just renting so it could hardly be considered my property in any legal sense.
Attemped car theft later that summer, I saw a shifty looking character attempt to slim Jim my neighbours car one evening and called campus security on him, he returned twenty minutes after being picked up but saw me standing in the window like an angel of justice and took off.
Gun shot in the parking lot of my building in Las Vegas, Spring 2000. I did not actually see anything nefarious as I was too busy cowering in one of the interior rooms in my apartment but I definitely heard a gunshot.
Mugged at knife point in December of 2000 in Rogers Park (Birchwood and Ashland) only seconds after thinks, 'Wow, this is the safest neighbourhood I've ever lived in.' Jerk took my $27 and then I ran inside and called 911. The police had me ID him three blocks away while the shined a flashlight in my face. Way to make a girl feel safe, Chicago PD! I was the 4th o5 women he'd mugged that night and the 19th of 20 over the last month.
Witnessed the mugging of a girl walking to her friends place on the corner of Broadway and Devon Spring 2004. Hopped off Jeremy's Vespa to help her collect her stuff (she held on to her bag like a trooper even after the Cracked out mugger (no really, he was cracked out as hell) dragged her across a parking lot.
Spring 2007 witnessed burglary in progress on the corner of my street, after sitting on hold for ten minutes was finally able to inform police.
Spring 2008 kids with weapons spotted roaming the streets of my neighborhood in broad daylight.

My Awesome Mix Tape

2008-04-30T14:02:00.003+01:00

I have a DJ name.

After much deliberation I have decided on DJ Zbornak. You may call me Dorothy for short. When in doubt you should always turn to the Golden Girls.

Our dance night also has a name. My Awesome Mix Tape. It's got a Facebook page and everything. I still have to firm up my set list but make no mistake, it is going to be awesome.

People have been asking me what I'm gonna play and I tell them that the centerpiece of my slot will be Hazy Shade of Winter by The Bangles and they seem to need more info. They are all doubters who do not understand the power of The Bangles and the Less Than Zero Soundtrack. As of Friday 9th May 2008 they will all understand!

This weekend is a bank holiday (bank holidays = why I love the UK) and we are going to spend it painting. We'll finish the living room (there was some plaster than hadn't dried fully before) and do the master bedroom in a nice greyish blue color. It's going to be pretty great to finally have a house that is mostly how we want it.

Then, starting the week of 19th May, chaos will reign as we get our bathroom ripped out and replaced by the awesomest bathroom ever. It will have a roll top bathtub, a small shower stall, new sink, new cup boards, new toilet, cream tiles on one wall, beautiful natural slate type tiles onf the floor, underfloor heating (that's right bitches, UNDERFLOOR HEATING!) and it will no longer be the most hideous shade of blue known to mankind. I am psyched. I don't even care how middle class I sound yammering on about my new bathroom, it will have underfloor heating! If that makes me a yuppy then I don't care, because my feet will be warm all year round and that will be worth the 2 weeks inconvenience while they install everything.

Then, Mike D (no, not the one from the Beastie Boys, the one from Allen Park, Mi) will be visiting and we have not seen him in, Christ, 4.5 years! And that is totally wrong. He promised to buy pizza and beer thus securing my undying devotion.

THEN in mid June, finally, FINALLY (I know I'm playing fast and loose with the Caps Lock today but I just can't help it) we got to the Dominican Republic for what I fully expect to be the laziest week of my life.

There is lots of good coming up

ETA I forgot to mention this! I got a ticket to see Sebadoh do a Don't Look Back show next week. They will be performing all of Bubble and Scrape at KOKO on Wednesday. I'm not like some crazy mad Sabadoh fan but they are a band I thought I had missed out on seeing so I am pretty excited about this chance to see them. Generally I am opposed to reuninon tours of any sort, but occasionally (like for The Pixies or Devo) I will makke exceptions. Sebadoh totally warrants an exception.

In Her Shoes or My Slightly Aggravating Movie Experience on Sunday Night

2008-04-28T15:21:00.003+01:00

So In Her Shoes was playing on Channel 4 last night. I read the book when we were between countries and felt it was okay. Good for an airplane and days made hazy by jetlag, but not great. I really want to like Jennifer Weiner's books because I think her heart is in the right place and that there are good stories there but something about them always rubs me the wrong way. I still read them though, so I guess it's not enough the wrong way.

So the movie was on and I thought hey, I'll watch this, Curtis Hanson is good director and has proven himself with at least one movie based on a book (I really really really liked Wonder Boys. As much as the book even, although I'm still not toally sold on M Douglas as the lead, but I can suck it up (Jeff Bridges or John Goodman would have been better, but no one asked me, no one EVER asks me)). And the movie was okay. Like the book, nice enough but not great. Sort of what I was expecting. But there was one thing that really bothered me throughout.

Toni Collette is not fat! Just like Barbra Streisand never looked like a boy in Yentl or like a hideous doggo in the The Mirror Has Two Faces, Toni Collette never at any point looked like a big fatty fatty 2X4 in the movie In Her Shoes. And that is lame. If at any point in a movie one character calles the other a fat pig, said fat pig should actually be fat. If the character who has inner monologues about how fat and horrible she is throughout the movie then SHE SHOULD BE FAT! If you want to make a movie about a person learning to love and accept herself then give her a reason, don't just give her a bad hairdo and some baggy clothes for Christ's sake!

I hate hate hate hate hate the whole cinimatic concept of fat as anything over size 2. Even though I never watched that Farrelly Bros movie with Gwynneth in the fat suit, at least they had the balls to make her properly fat and not just sort of curvy. Or curvy at all for that matter.

Seriously, during the whole transformation bit where Rose becomes a dog walker and this is her workout plan that cures her you couldn't even see a difference, they just suddenly put her in clothe that fit. Totally annoying.

Also the open toe boots Cameron Diaz wore during her seduction scene were totally ugly. Just so you know.

Willie Nelson clips on YouTube are probably not the answer

2008-04-26T00:23:00.002+01:00

I have been pretty low this week. The dramas are getting me down and work is getting me down and I wish I just had time to sit at my typewriter and work on the things I want to work on but even when I'm home there's cleaning to do and in a couple weeks our bathroom will be all torn up. Jeremy's having one of his bimonthly money spazzes so I can't even go drink my troubles away because it costs too much money. And despite the acupuncture and new pain pills and the better weather my arthritis is clinging to my lower back. So in response to these woes i am looking up Willie Nelson clips on YouTube.

Like this one where he sings with LeeAnn Womack. I like how they both ride horses in the video, country music videos are the best.
I keep getting the chorus stuck in my head.

And how about this one, Rainbow Connection bitches, you can't beat that shit. The video is sort of crap, but still Willie singing the Muppets

And that lead me to this, Debbie Harry and Kermit singing Rainbow Connection

And then you add Willie to the Wizard of Oz and you get this (again ignore the video)

I know I should be poking around in clips of the pixies, I know that debaser would help out my melancholia, but I'd rather listen to Willie right now

Books - love em, hate em, something in between em

2008-04-22T10:21:00.003+01:00

I just finished reading Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl. The blurb on the cover featured a opositive quote from Jonothan Franzen (whose books I have not read) comparing it to Donna Tartt's A Secret History (which I did read and did not like thankyouverymuch) but used words like 'under the froth' so I said to myself, I will give this a try.

So I started reading and was totally enthralled by the intro and the first 2/3 of the book. I was willing to overlook the fact that Ms. Pessl was born the same year as me and that she looked totally hot in her photo. I really enjoyed the maze of the book, the way she annotated everything and the pace she set, I was reading hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of pages but they were zooming by despite the density of the prose. But then the last third, the climax, the ehh of it all. Here was this book I'd really been enjoying and it just exploded into this weird sort of lunacy that seemed so incongruous to me. Just ugh.

I do think that Pessl is an awesome writer, and I can see the merits of this book, even the end, but I just don't buy it. I don't buy it at all. And I don't even mind her choice to make the last chapter a final exam. I think that was sort of awesome, honestly. But the explosion of the plot at the end left me feeling betrayed in a way. I don't always feel betrayed by plot twists. Usually I think they're pretty great. But this one just left me feeling (as stated before) ehh, maybe even meh.

I was so close to loving this book and then it was all ripped away from me. No fair.

To be discussed later: Carolyn's strong dislike of Donna Tartt's books (subtitled - Over rated and boring!), Excitement over Michael Chabon's newest book (subtitled - yay it's FINALLY out in paperback), Hemingway - love? hate? both?

birthday memoranda

2008-04-20T16:51:00.001+01:00

1.Pictures

breakfast on the way to Brighton, bacon bagel and cappucino

an awesome palm reading sign, prof mirza's was sadly closed so i did not get my fortune told, boo

butternut squash and chicken pie with mash and peas and gravy plus victorian lemonade and one of my presents to myself, the newest michael chabon book in paperback (i have been waiting for ages!)

words from my typewriter, old blue is back in business

peppermint tea

coffee and words from my head, yay

presents! a vintage vanity set and dragonfly brooch (jeremy) pretty necklace (my coworkers)

anchor earrings from jeremy!

skull and fruit bead bracelet from jeremy, nice

2. Brighton was good, it did not rain, i wrote four pages and drank coffee. i also bought a couple cheap cds (hot fuss by the killers and in utero by nirvana, two albums that have been sadly missing from my collection) and i got some american tootsie roll based treats at cyber candy to take into the office and some bubble gum cigarettes for tonight. i cam close to buying other stuff, a hat, a dress, a tee shirt, some undercrackers, but nothing was 100% right so i said no

3. dinner with my brother at The Wapping Project was also very good. But i didn't take pictures so you will have to trust my words
1st raspberry mule made from reastpberry infused vodka, fucking awesome
2nd scallop ceviche on crushed new potatoes with salmon roe, fucking awesome
3rd baby chicken (it had a fancy name, i forget what it was) on purple sprouting broccoli and soft polenta and roasted garlic, with a really nice chardonnay, fucking awesome
4th rhubarb crumble with very delicate rosewater ice cream, fucking awesome despite my concerns re the rosewater ice cream

4. on my actual birthday we got insulation for the attic, went to the tate modern where i made many derogotory comments about duchamp and that fucking stool. i have issues with duchamp. and then went out for dinner with friends at a mediocre tex mex place (the pitchers of margaritas make up for any failings in the food). i got more cards and a candle!

5. plans, this is the year. i'm gonna write a first draft of a fucking book. i don't care if it sucks all the ass in all the world i'm just gonna write the damn thing. i know i said this last year and the year before, but this year i fucking mean it okay.

Ghost of myself

2008-04-17T14:11:00.004+01:00

Last night I had my second acupuncture session. The acupuncture guy (aka Dan) stuck needles in the left side of my neck, the lower left side of my back and my left ankle. He put a burning piece of charcoal on one of the needles in my lower back. It felt strange to be laying there in a small room with needles sticking out my back as I answered questions about my diet (sweet cravings should be denied, hot drinks in the morning rather than cold water, more hot lunches). Sometimes I find myself in situations where I have voluntarily chosen to something that suddenly strikes me as comical, for instance I can distinctly remember sitting in the dentist's chair getting 2 of my wisdom teeth pulled and thinking, as I opened my eyes for a second and saw blood that had spurted out of my mouth, "Holy Christ, I am paying these people to hurt me!" And it was hard not to laugh around the mouth guards, fingers and dental tools filling my mouth.

I also had a strange Simpsons moment that day when as they were using the laser to cut my gums and all I could hear in my head was Ralph Wiggum saying "It tastes like burning." Because, honestly, it did taste like burning.

Last night was similar. I couldn't stop thinking that I was paying someone to do something that really sounds quite sinister to me. What would 14 year old me think of such a situation? She would likely be aghast. Just like she would think I was a crackpot for going into raptures about cheeses, art and Tropicalia (not too mention Leonard Cohen, 14 year old me thought LC was lamesville, don't even get her started on Willie Nelson).

Sometimes I think I can see 14 year old me sitting on the floor in the corner watching almost 31 year old me with looks of horror. She wears a pair of too big Converse All Stars and over sized sweatshirts (occasionally, foolishly tucked into her jeans, oh 14 year old me why do you never learn?) and she has no idea why I find joy in these thing. She still like Wilson Phillipps and TGIF on ABC and she has an unfortunate crush on a geeky boy who wears over large glasses. Oh wait, that didn't change

At least Jeremy's were vintage and therefore ironic and cool.

Do you ever wonder about things like this? What younger you would think of the situation when you do something so patently adult and boring (ie spend all day Saturday looking at bathroom tiles and then getting excited over them, choosing to stay in on a Friday night to read a book and drink a glass of wine, ranting about high level of legging sightings in your neighborhood, etc)? What would past tense you think of present tense you?

I'm pretty sure that past tense me would be a little surprised, occasionally impressed but mostly bored with present tense me. Not that that's a bad thing, past tense wasn't always an especially bright kid, it's just that times like these (birthday times) put me in the mood to think of think of these things, especially the day after I spent an hour getting stuck with needles.

Birthday/Goals

2008-04-16T09:51:00.004+01:00

I'm gonna be 31 gotdamn years old on Saturday. That's right, 31. My eggs are drying up, and I'm getting old, or something. Actually the whole concept of getting old, doesn't bug me that much except for the fact that more and more author blurbs seem to include the year of my birth (damn you, Marisha Pessl and Jonothan Safran Foer!) but not my name, but I'm working on that, and most writers don't even get really good until after they're thirty anyhow, look at Carver, he didn't get published until he was way older* than me and now he's a literary legend (at least according to my old writing professor who was taught by him in the 70s. Also by John Irving. You want Carver and Irving stories, I've got Carver and Irving stories. Also a couple of vague Borges stories but those involve less gin), so I've got time.

Sure I've got an old woman's ailments at the moment, but I've still got a young woman's time.

So here are my goals for, this, my 31st year:

Write the first draft of a novel, any novel, crappy or good, just get the fuck past page 55
Try not to go crazy during the bathroom remodel of May 08
Continue swimming on a regular basis (but not so much that I start to look like an East German swimmer at the 84 Olympics)
Buy more dresses (this will give me an air of sophistication I currently lack, I'm sure of it)

*And by way older I mean 33 when his first collection of short stories was published. We're not talking about poetry because I am not a poet okay! Anyhow, i;m just saying that 2 years is a really long time, really, a looooooong time.

another key to happiness

2008-04-11T21:38:00.002+01:00

dinosaur, jr. covering just like heaven

my friend j once dedicated this song to me on his radio show because i was dating a boy (see entry titled first kiss) who liked the cure. j did not approve of the cure. he did approve of dinosaur, jr. though.

DJ What Now?

2008-04-11T14:57:00.002+01:00

I need to figure out some sort of DJ name for May the 9th when I will be playing my musics in the opening slot of our dance night at The Dogstar in Brixton. Maybe DJ Mypursegotstolenacrossthestreetfromhere or DJ Whitegirl or DJ Walk Like Your from Michigan? Something to ponder. We still don't have a name for the night in general and it sounds like my suggestion of Turn Down the Suck is not in the lead, it is in fact 4th place on the official polling website with Top Shelf in the lead.

I started acupuncture this week. There were needles in my butt and my knee and my back. All I could think as the needles were going in was that my Grandpa would totally have fainted at the thought of such a process (he has a well documented fear of needles) and that made me feel sort of like a bad ass, but not really, I doubt I would have managed as a fireman in the navy during WWII with quite the same panache as he did. But still, I didn't faint. I did discuss my poo, my eating habits and my tongue in fairly extensive detail. In case you were wondering, my tongue veers off to the side a bit which normally happens with sroke victims, I suffer from a yang deficiency and my arthritis is a hot wind problem. Oh and the acupunturist got really excited when I told him that the arthritis really kicked in the day after we flew from London, this is, apparently very important, possibly a sign of a Wind stroke and could be the key to all my toubles, acupuncturally speaking. Next week we discus diet. If he tells me to cut back on the Top Ramen Oriental Flavor Noodles, we could have a problem.

My ass has gotten bigger. I'm sure this could be partially blamed on the aforementioned Top Ramen Oriental Flavor Noodles but I think it might also be down to my lack of excercise for the last couple months because of the arthritis. In order to combat the spread I have joined a local pool with my friend Paula at the suggestion of my Physical Therapist. I can now be seen dog paddling like in the fashion of an epileptic terrier at the Peckham Pulse twice a week. As you can guess, this is a very good look for me. Swimming laps is a lot more work than I imagined and I imagined and I am hopeful that it ill make me svelte or at least less assily endowed.

I'm going to Brighton on Friday. While there I plan to drink coffee, look at the sea, drink coffee, eat nice cakes, write a best selling novel, drink coffee, read a book or 5, celebrate my very last day as a 30 year old, berate myself for not writing a book yet even though I swore I would have one done by the end of this year, drink coffee, create an action plan in order to get a stupid first draft finished by the end of the year, eat cakes, try not to hate myself for falling short of the goals I set for myself last year at this time, and maybe take some pictures. I'm looking forward to having the day off. After Brighton I'll be meeting up with my brother to go out for dinner and do some gloating about being our parents' favorite. We like to keep score as we both tend to fall in and out of favorthroughout any given year. Currently I am solidly in favor despite the fact that I have provided no grandchildren and live far away and he is solidly out of favor despite the fact the has prvided 3 grandchildren and live 45 minutes away from my parents. Ever since we reached adulthood we've had this weird competion going on, sometimes we gloat about being the black sheep, sometimes we gloat about being the favorite. It all depends on what you did to get you into your current position or which shift was more unlikely.
As you may have surmised from point 4, the family Kohl is currently experiencing an awful lot of drama. It is both nice and horrible to be physically removed as I currently hame. Mostly it's just weird but I'm making do and have not bought any more cigarettes since the start of the drama about a month ago.
I got my eyes checked on Monday and they showed me a picture of the back of my eyeball. It was pretty cool.

The secret to Happiness, I Found (Remembered) It!

2008-04-09T09:34:00.006+01:00

Do you want to know what it is? Do You?

The Pixies, specifically Debaser played loudly as a sing along song. this is the best part

"got me a movie
ha ha ha ho
slicing up eyeballs
ha ha ha ho
girlie so groovieha ha ha ho
don't know about you
but i am un chien andalusia
i am un chien andalusia
i am un chien andalusia
i am un chien andalusia
(debaser), debaser
(debaser), debaser
(debaser), debaser
(debaser), debaser
(debaser), debaser
(debaser), debaser"

Sometimes i make up my own words too, like

"kitten so awesome ha ha ha ho!
he's got cute paws ha ha ha ho!"

Suprisingly, Oliver is not a fan of the Pixies.

Here Comes Your Man works like a treat too.

The more shouting and erratic dancing the better.

I can't believe I forgot about this trick. Especially after it got me through the denouement of a particularly devastating crush in 1998.

Shallow truth

2008-04-07T08:33:00.002+01:00

On Friday my brother was in town so I met up with him and some friends for dinner and drinks at a pub on the Thames (Doggett's, it's my standard, oh you're here for one night pub because it has nice views, okay food and reasonable for Zone 1 prices, that's not the shallow truth I am here to present to you though). At about 9:30 we came back to our neighbourhood for a couple more drinks sans brother and on the bus back to Zone 2 my friend Paula told me (without prompting!) that my accent was 'different, softer' than my brother's.

I was so pleased that I was almost ashamed of myself.

That's right, it pleases me to no end to know that I no longer sound like where I come from. Not that I don't still sound American. I'll always sound American. But maybe, just maybe, I no longer sound like I'm from Port Huron and there's something in that fact that I find desperately pleasing (key word here is probably desperate).

After visiting the UK and Germany when I was 17 I began to actively change the way I talked. I started to say things like bloody and shite. By the time I was about 18, I realised this made me sound like a poser and an idiot, so I stopped with the Anglophile bullshit, but I did start changing other smaller things in my speech. For example, I stopped saying either with a long E sound and switched to the eye noise instead. I don't know why I liked this better but I did and it's stuck. Sometimes my dad will shout at me for saying EYE-ther, "You're from Michigan! Talk right!" Mostly he's joking.

I've made other, sort of silly changes to my speech as well, like saying a with a sharp a sound instead of the softer a when I want particular empahsis on something, usually for humorous effect, like no it wasn't just any monkey it was A Rhesus Monkey! Hi Yo! Except I rarely do Ed McMahon sound effects, but for digital interpretation I thought it could use a little something extra.

But I do stupid things like that, I'm aware that they're stupid and that it's an almost teenaged affectation on my part but I like it, I like that I put conscious effort into how my sentences sound, I like that I choose my words with care, I like that I'm able to change. As if these small superficial changes are proof that I am capable of greater and deeper change.

And I like that maybe, just maybe I don't sound so small town anymore. I'm not going to put on a faux British accent a la Madonna, I'm not even going to try to throw off the mantle of my Michigan specific Midwestern accent (and she shouldn't either. For shame, Madonna, be proud of you Michigander roots!) but I can't help but be pleased that my accent has evolved a little bit, that maybe, just maybe, it's not quite so nasally as it used to be. And I know it's a stupid and silly thing to care about, but I do, I can't help it. I'l always come from where I come from but I sound like who I've become.

it's official

2008-04-04T11:51:00.002+01:00

I am old. Do you want to know how I know this officially? Because today I went to see my GP about getting my pain medication changed and my wonky periods and acupuncture (I like to pack in as much as I can on the NHS's dime) and after discussing those wonky periods (she says to give it another month since I just got off the no baby pills two months ago because they were making me mean) she asked if I was planning to get pregnant. And I said, "Maybe in the next year or two." And she said, "Don't leave it too long , Carolyn." In a very nice way, I mean, not like hey, you old bag, your eggs are drying up and a woman's only purpose in life is to make babies so get cracking! or anything but more in the gentle concern of a kind dr sort of way. And I made a crack about how my mother says the same thing. And she said very seriously, " No really, you can't leave it too long, it can be very devastating." And I know she wasn't trying to make me feel old or anxious or anything bad, she was just pointing out the state of womanly affairs.

The whole exchange left me with the two following reactions.

When did I get to the point where making babies has become a concern of this nature? You know, like it's no longer, oh shit my period is late, but rather oh shit my eggs are not as plentiful as they were in my youth! When did I stop being 22? Because I'm pretty sure that in my head I am still approximately 22 years old. When did everything change and go all topsy turvy? I'm not old yet, really, am I? I'm still young, aren't I? Authors are considered Young Authors until they're 35, so doesn't that apply to my womb as well? And how is it possible that I am two weeks away from being 31 and my goddamn book is still not written? What the hell is up with me? When did these grownup adult ass concerns become valid?
Babies. My peer group is currently making a lot of them and they all seem really psyched about it. Sure they aren't sleeping and they're having crazy mood swings and one of them has lasting issues due to the most dreaded word I have ever heard, the episiotomy. But they all claim to love and adore the fruit of their loins. They all claim that seeing the face of their baby(ies) makes it all worthwhile and that all else pales in comparison. But I (obviously) remain unconvinced. What if I do make a baby (with Jeremy's assistance of course) and what if it isn't all worth it? What if I'm like the We Need to Talk about Kevin mother and I never connect with my child on a deep and meaningful level and my child ends up shooting all the kids at his/her school? What if I'm a lousy fucking parent? What if i have a baby and realise that I was right all those years when I said I didn't want children and that I would be happy without them? God, I miss that conviction I had that I was not maternal in the least. But I was also convinced that I would never marry, and here I am, married. So I feel that I owe it to myself to reconsider this too. I need to figure this shit out but I worry it's one of those things you can't know for certain until you're in it. Babies scare me. The whole idea of bearing them and raising them into responsible citizens of the world is scary. It's really really scary, and for someone as easily frightened as me it takes on huger and huger proportions every day. I'm not ready. But if I'm going to do it I need to get ready pretty fast.

There, that was your slice of neurotic reproductive cake for the day. I'm going to go bang my head into something now.

First Kiss

2008-03-31T14:50:00.002+01:00

I've been feeling nostalgic lately (although, seriously, when am I not nostalgic? Never! To quote my favorite character from one of my favorite movies, "I'm nostalgic for things that haven't even happened yet." (Max, Kicking and Screaming)) anyhow I h ad a dream about a former friend the other night. We ran into each other in a random London Boutique. She was looking very suave and put together, I do not remember how my dream self looked. As a result of this dream I've been doing mad google searches for said friend (sans results) and I've also just been thinking of days gone by in general. And somehow just now I started to think of my first real kiss with the first boy I properly dated.

Not the boy who took me to Homecoming Junior year because (a) we did not kiss and (b) he totally caught the gay after he got out of Port Huron. Probably he caught the gay long before that and just didn't know how to let people in on it. Port Huron, shockingly, did not (and possibly still does not, if I'm basing my judgement on the high number of Ron Paul signs I saw there in November) have the most open and liberal of atmospheres. And not the boy I frenched in the back of Amy Roche's garage on a dare because I was 10 and that was gross, and also not the boy who gave me a very dry lipped peck under a sprig of mistletoe Freshman year because that kis held about as much sexual longing as a kiss from your cousin (your non-incestuous cousin that is).

So anyhow, Homecoming '93 and other misc kisses aside, I did not start dating until I was 17 years old. The first boy I dated was the 20 year old manager of the movie theater that my friends worked (a movie theater I was not allowed to go to without resorting subterfuge for its first few years of existence because it was the greatest of all evils, NON UNION!). They sort of set us up after I admitted I thought he was cute (and seriously if I had like the one photo of him on hand to scan you would be all like, what is it about large headed prematurely balding 20 year old Duran Duran fansis it that you liked so much Carolyn? And I would have no answer for you except that I was a foolish foolish girl). On our first date we went to see the movie classic Speed together. My friends mad approximately 4 checks of the theater thermostat during the movie and he held my hand.

Afterwards we went to the Super K to look at CDs (because it was open late) and we may have gone for coffee at Denny's, but we definitely ended up walking along the St Clair River with it's scenic views of the Dow Chemical Plant in Sarnia, Ontario. He smoked a cigarette, we talked about politics (he was a republican, I was firmly not a republican, just an idiot) and finally he turned to face me and took my hands in his and said, "Are your hands as cold as mine?"
And, ever the romantic, I replied, "No, but I think you want them to be." Because seriously my hands were toaty warm in the pockets of my faux fur lined black plaid trench coat.

He laughed despite my poor form and kissed me. It was not nearly so bad as that time in the back of Amy Roche's garage. It was pretty nice really. Kissing tasted like a mix of cigarettes and peppermint gum and our lips were cold. The factory lights across the river twinkled and really, despite all my sarcasm it was a fairly roomantic moment.

We dated for 3 more months until my friends discovered he'd been doing it with his ex and some girl from a party he went to the whole time we were going out. Not that he ever made any claims to being exclusive but he also never said anything about seeing other people. It was a shaky situation for awhile because my friends all still worked at the theater so I had reason to hang out there fairly often. Luckily the other managers felt bad for me because he'd been such a cad so I still got to see free movies even when I was with non-theater friends. And he ended up moving to Holland, Mi after a few months so I didn't have to worry about run ins so much. So over all, this story has a happy ending I think.

As far as first kiss stories go, I think it's pretty good. Not perfect or anything, but just awkward enough to be sweet without being cloying.

How about you, oh great nebulous internet readers? What was your first kiss like? Did you have false starts too? Were you grossed out by all that tongue action? Was it perfect in every way? I don't want to be the only nostalgic sucker around here, tell me some stories.

the collective

2008-03-26T16:14:00.003Z

Jeremy and our friend H have decided to try and put on a dance night at a pub in Brixton with only themselves and other friends as Dee Jays. I have been offered a slot, I won't be scratching or doing any mash ups or any shit like that, but I will be aiming to move some feet. so far i know for a fact that I will play the following:

Hazy Shade of Winter - The Bangles
Know Your Chicken or Sci Fi Wasabi - Cibo Matto
Mass Romantic, maybe Graceland too - New Pornographers
Call the Doctor or I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone - Sleater Kinney
Cannonball - Breeders
Something by Arcade Fire (I can never rememebr the names of their songs)
Hey Ya - Outkast (or Bombs Over Bagdhad is I can get my hands on that CD before the night (also don't tell me how overplayed Hey Ya is because I do not care, I love it and I am totally going to marry Andre 3000 someday so shut up!)
I Miss you - Bjork
Groove is in the Heart - Dee Lite (again if I can pick up the CD)
Something from Odelay - Beck (i need to replace that cassette tape anyway, that's right I said cassette tape)
Mandinka - Sinead O'Connor
Never Said - Liz Phair
The Whores Hustle and The Hustlers Whore - PJ Harvey

Now I'm drawing a blank, I need to go stare hard at my CD collection for a little while but I thought I'd open the floor to suggestions as well. I'd like to get a little more hip hop in there, but my personal selection in a little limited, I'd also like to play things that may not be so well known over here.

Oh crap i just realized that I need to get some Styx, then everyone will finally know why I came as Mr Roboto to the dress like a song party! I will be vindicated!

So yeah, what would you, dear reader(s) want to hear at your perfect dance party? Tell me, I need to know.

ETA 18:23 29 march 2008

can you even believe that i forgot to put any pixies in there? what the fuck is wrong with me? obviously either debaser or here comes your man belong on that list too

Easter facts

2008-03-20T14:06:00.003Z

Not only are we on the cusp of Easter today, it is also the Iraninan New Year, Nowruz. My coworker Arta had to wake up at 5 AM this morning to wish her family, who are visiting London, a happy new year.
When I was 4 my birthday was on Easter Sunday. It snowed, my grandma made me a special tunnel cake filled with chocolate pudding (she burned her first two tries and was very grouchy by the time the third was completed. Each ruined cake got thrown into the driveway which made the very cold birds in our neighborhood very happy.) I got a purple bike with a white plastic basket and training wheels.
When I was 10 my birthday was on Easter Sunday again. My Mom made me a cake in the shape of the cross. I think that was the same year my brother got a cherry pie with soccer players for his birthday. Mom liked theme cakes.
One year on Easter my dad hid an egg in the tube of one of our living room lamps. it was not discovered for at least 2 weeks, during which time Snuffy the cat received much abuse and many smell related accusations. Poor maligned Snuffy.
We always used to go to sunrise service for Easter.
My favorite Bible verse growing up came from Good Friday. You know, the bit when Jesus looks at the thief on the cross next to him and says "You too, shall be with me in Paradise." I think that's it anyhow. It's essentially what he said anyhow. At my most religious I always aspired to be like Jesus in that moment. Reaching out to sinners even in my most trying moments. Except my most trying moments generally involved my brother torturing my Cabbage Patch Kids (Elspeth Samantha who wanted to be a doctor took the brunt of his abuse, Sheila Adele, perhaps because she was a preemie, was often spared.) and seriously I did not want to see his face in Paradise. It was a trial. I still think the sentiment is good but I can't say for sure that I'd be able to carry through whilst nailed to a cross. If I were nailed to a cross I would probably just make a lot of swears and then pass out. (I looked it up on Wikipedia, "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise (Luke 23:43)" that's pretty much what I said.)
My friend Justin died in a motorcycle crash just before Palm Sunday1997. He was only 21. I remember going to my friend Danielle's a few days after hearing the news and her boyfriend Dan asked me sarcastically, "Hey Carolyn, have you been touched by the Holy Spirit today?" I said "No, not yet," and probably made a joke about inappropriate touching. It was one of the saddest Easters I can remember, I was drunk for a lot of it.
I can't remember the last time I went to church for Easter Sunday. Probably when I was 18, maybe. It would have been at St Paul's Lutheran Church on West Water St in Port Huron, Mi. But that's just a guess.
We always had ham and scalloped potatoes for Easter dinner at my house. the other sides always changed but those two dishes were a constant. The week after Easter my mom would make kumle, a Norwegian potato dumpling, boiled in broth made from the ham bone and the remaining bits of ham. You should eat kumle with lots of butter and salt, my grampa calls them ribstickers because they are so, well, sticky that they will stick to your ribs. This always seemed like a funnier statement when I was a kid, now I realise that it's just a statement of the obvious.
My current employers give everyone a giant chocolate egg for Easter each year. This year I got one with Smarties, last year it came with 2 Mars bars.
I always ate the head off my chocolate Easter bunny first when I was a kid, well ears first really, then head. Any other method is wrong and sinful. Jesus will not see you in Paradise if you eat the feet first. He told me so. It's the worst sin of all.

scenes from a marriage (concept stolen from my friend stevie k)

2008-03-17T15:03:00.002Z

Jeremy: What do you think about having a baby next year?
Carolyn: Wha-huh?
Jeremy: Because you know, we're not ready now, but I think next year we might be in a good place.
Carolyn: I um, well, maybe, we could, you know, talking about stuff like this freaks me out! (runs away like a frightened bunny).

Curtain.

A baby? A baby, I ask you, what iin the world would I do with a baby?

Chair update

2008-03-10T09:22:00.001Z

Because I know you're all wondering about the final results of Chair's ebay auction and especially because the Gancer claimed Chair would not sell at all. I am pleased to report thast after 22 bids Chair has sold for £84. Seriously, £84! Way to go Chair!

overheard at the bus stop

2008-03-06T13:23:00.003Z

Rasta man speaking to his elderly mother: Yeah but I don't have the power you have. You got a broom, Ma, you can fly!

Awesome.

Ebay takes another little piece of my heart

2008-03-03T09:06:00.003Z

We've put my chair on eBay. I know, I know, the chair is ugly as fuck. That green velvet is the color of spinach vomit, I know, okay! But I love that chair and giving the go ahead to put it up for sale was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. ETA 15 people are officially watching chair as of 13:32 GMT Tuesday 4th March. Can you believe it?

Chair Timeline
1989/90 - Parents Kohl plan garage sale and ask friends to participate in order to bulk up stock. Mrs F (Carolyn's former piano teacher and baker of remarkable brownies) donates ugly green chair, priced $40. Carolyn falls in love with chair immediately as chair espouses her developing fashion mantra perfectly. So ugly, it's beautiful. Carolyn begins long day of placing Snuffy the mangy cat with weeping eye puss onto the chair in order to discourage all buyers. By the end of the day Carolyn is $15 poorer but one chair richer.

1990 - 1995 - Chair is used as seating choice while writing SO much bad poetry and many impassioned journal entries. Chair acquires thick lair of cat hair despite sad death of Snuffy the cat. Digi the 19 lb panther cat is happy to take over.

1997 - Chair and Carolyn move to Detroit. Chair functions as excellent writing/smoking chair in two separate apartments

1999 - Chair and Carolyn move to Hamtramck. Chair and Jack Kerouac begin their relationship.

Jan 1999 - Chair, Carolyn and Jack Kerouac move to Las Vegas. Jack begins taking out the stress of move on the corner of Chair's right wing. Dill the shelter cat moves into apartment on Twain Ave. begins to take out stress of new home on chair's underside.

June 2000 - Chair, girl and cats rent UHaul and move to Roger's Park, Chicago. Chair is introduced to more cruel cats (Earplug and Prince Adam) but is moved out of bedroom and into the light of the living room.

August 2001 - Chair moves to Edgewater despite mocking words of new flatmate. Finds love with new kinder cats Foodlion and Isaac receives continued torture by Jack Kerouac and Dill.

September 2003 - Chair returns to Roger's Park. Chair suffers through continued feline abuse (return of Earplug, addition of Plan B the farty calico) and the beginning of much verbal abuse from one Dr Jeremy Opperer who has suddenly decided that Chair is ugly.

May 2004 - Marriage of Carolyn and Jeremy, Chair begins to fear.

January 2005 - Chair is packed into container unit and shipped over the ocean to London

February 2005 - Chair arrives in East Dulwich, London. Introduced first to safe and calm Jasper the cat and then to the much more demanding Oliver.

February 2007 - Chair moves to Nunhead, fear increases. A new stylistic regime has begun Dr. Jeremy 'Mid-Century Modern' Opperer has begun making hateful noises about chair.

March 2008 - Chair's worst fears are confirmed. Carolyn has given in, her love for Chair does not surpass her desire for a beautiful and sleek bedroom. Chair is listed on eBay. Sorrow.

Maybe no one will bid. Chair is an acquired taste after all.

High School Memory

2008-02-29T10:15:00.003Z

At the end of my senior year in high school I remember going to my first commencement rehearsal (seniors got out of school about 3 weeks earlier than everyone else but still had to attend rehearsals 3 times a week, if you missed a rehearsal you couldn't march. The Commencememt Ceremony at PHHS was big business).

Anyhow they sat us all down in our assigned seats and I found myself in the first row between the class Vice President and the student president of SADD as a faculty member explained that the first two rows were populated by class officers and students who held positions in clubs and organisations in the school.
I looked at the VP and SADD girl and said out loud, "Well the what the fuck am I doing up here?"
The VP looked at me and said, "Carolyn, you're the editor of the school newspaper."
My response to her was, "That counts?" I was shocked, seriously shocked, that anything I was responsible for could count enough to put me in the front row.

And I know now, knew then even, that getting to sit in the front row at commencement is not such a big deal in the grand scheme, but that's not the point. I remembered this today and then sort of looked over the last 12 years of my life in a quick mental slide show and realised just how much I don't value a lot of the good things I've done. I brush them off as being silly or unimportant because they are only steps and not the final goal.

Examples:

I won a creative writing scholarship when I was 20, but always make light of it because it was only for $500. It was still $500 freaking dollars!
I was one of the main organisers of not one but two Arts Fairs back in Port Huron, but it was just Port Huron, right, so it doesn't really count.
I've been managing this stupid department for the last year and even though I've been killing myself to make everything work and keep the whole thing from destructing I still mock it at every chance because it's not really where I ever envisioned myself

I avoid giving myself credit for my accomplishments because they aren't the final result. And that's stupid. I'm undermining myself and making it harder to focus on any sort of final result by mocking everything I do achieve because it isn't a published novel sitting in a book store window.

That's lame and I should quit it.

Conference calls . . .

2008-02-27T16:11:00.003Z

make me hate my life. In fact, they make me die just a tiny bit each time I have to participate in them. Especially when the host dials in as a participant and I have to listen to crappy oboe heavy music for 10 minutes.

I know, I've been away for an age and this is what I come back with, a statement of the obvious re: conference calls. Thrilling.

We've been working on the house for the last week. Both Jeremy and I took the week off and spent the time painting, fixing walls and refinishing the floors in the living and dining rooms. So, if you need to know anything about refinishing pine floors in Victorian houses let me know, I may be able to give you some top tips.

It turns out that actually doing work on your house is really hard. Not, like intellectually hard, but if you've got the muscle mass of a kitten, as I do, it's pretty physically demanding. BUT, and this is an important but, the house finally feels like it's really truly ours after living there for just over a year. The living room is the right color and the floors are bright and gap free. We just have a little bit more to do in the living room and it will be 100% done and the dining room just needs the furniture put back in place.

I am a home owner. Fear me as I enter the comfortable middle class and prepare to bore you with tales of DIY and organic vegetable delivery. This could be a very long, very boring ride.

We're all looking for something

2008-02-07T14:28:00.000Z

Recent Searches that have brourght people here:

Party dresses for fattys
Lousy Italian toilets
Bore Jeremy

to the first I say, fatties has an ies silly! and I hope you find a good one

to the second I say, take extra toilet paper! there will never be enough

and to the third I say, yes, he can be quite dull (especially when he's talking about skate videos, oy)

super tuesday expatriate blues

2008-02-05T20:12:00.001Z

ever since the 2004 elections, which i spent on the sofa in our old waterloo flat drinking stella, feeling jealous of the people queued up to vote, and praying for kerry to win before falling asleep and waking up to the saddest bbc reporters in the world, i have been missing the american political world. i know, i know, i hate it too, but i fucking love voting. i love the old ladies in the polling place. i love the fact that in chicago somebody named jerry orbach ran for like sewer commissioner, i love the process of voting and i miss it. i even miss the horrible assholish campaign ads.

when i was 15 i won the voice of democracy speech contest at my high school. my speech was about the importance of voting. i won a $100 US bond and i quoted depeche mode.

i didn't even know then how much i would like the physical act of placing my vote (i had a hunch though) and obviously i will be sending in my absentee ballot soon, but man, it's no replacement for the rinky dink experience of voting in a jr high school gym or the church basement or the field house of a local park. i'm serious, i actually like that. i love it. i love the transformation from normal to civics in action.

maybe i should be a civics teacher. i bet i could be a good civics teacher. like mrs martindale who used to give me tootsie rolls every morning because i almost fainted in her class.

have fun voting super tuesday states. think of me while you wait in line at your grubby bingo hall polling places, think of me as you stand behind moth eaten curtains, i'll be thinking of you and sending out a silent prayer to the gods of voting machines to ask that they not be rigged (at least not by the republicans)

OH and if you still aren't sure who to vote for, how about some tips from the music dept at the guardian

Want to see Will Smith get jiggy with Arcade Fire? Your only hope is to vote Obama. Prefer the idea of 50 Cent and Tony Bennett? Vote for Hillary and perhaps come November we'll hear a new version of Fly Me To the Moon, with added gunshots.
http://music.guardian.co.uk/news/story/0,,2252760,00.html

musics

2008-02-04T19:01:00.000Z

i like this song by laura marling and i think the video is neat too

the anger

2008-02-04T14:00:00.000Z

That's right, the anger is upon me. The anger is directed at Spanish egg sandwiches and my right sacroiliac joint (or the ass joint as I like to call it). Unfortunately, since being angry at these two inanimate objects doesn't do much towards alleviating the anger, the anger has been spilling over.

This weekend Jeremy bore the brunt of the anger. I mean how fucking dare he remind me that I shouldn't leave wooden utensils in standing water? Who the fuck does he think he is? Senor Wooden Spoon the king of kitchen utensils? Asshole.

So this morning when I got into work I made the following announcement:

Hey everyone, I've been in a lot of pain over the weekend and I still am and that makes me sort of short tempered and pissy so if I'm an asshole, I'm sorry in advance.

Hopefully this will help avoid any hurt feelings.

The anger has also been misdirected at the following:

the stairs
the bed
my mobile phone
the hot water bottle
the sofa
my knees
the sink
the television
the boiler
every chair in the world
the bathroom for being so goddamn far away
the fucking everything

Hopefully I'll get an appt in with the rheumatologist this week and she'll have some idea why the pain has come back and I will be able to direct the anger more productively and stop saying fuck so much.

for the love of something

2008-02-01T12:52:00.000Z

FIRST when I was putting on my black trousers this morning the thread gave on the button and it popped off and across the room

THEN I finally got a call back from Fitness First and even though I have to cancel my membership because of physical reasons (hello arthritis thanks for getting worse this month!) not because I'm a lazy slacker they still won't refund me for my February payment because it's already been taken from my account. We can't do it they said, but what they meant was, we won't do it sucker!

THEN I went to the ladies' room and realised that the seam under where my butt goes in the trousers I replaced the other trousers with had totally worn away so I've been walking around with a big ol hole in the ass of my trousers. At least I have safety pins in my drawer.

THEN I went to the stupid ATM and put my card in before I remembered it expired today and the machine took my card away so I had to use my credit card (which I don't like to use) to put money on my work ID so I could get a bowl of crappy pasta.

THEN I called Jeremy to complain about all my misfortunes and first he said, sound like your ass is to big and then he said don't break any more pants today. Divorce is imminent.

Now I just have to make it through the rest of the day without any further trouser emergencies.

2008-01-29T11:25:00.000Z

We saw Gilbert and George walking in Shoreditch on Saturday night. Jeremy recognised them first and pointed them out to me which made me jump up and down yelling 'Art stars! Art stars!'

The Jeremy decided we needed to follow them to get their autographs and I mentioned that I don't even like their art and we decided we would walk up to them and say 'Hi we think your art is pretty crap, but could we have your autograph anyway?' Then we got the giggles and fell too far behind them to continue stalking.

It was a missed opportunity.

Afterwards we attended a moustache party where Jeremy's twizzled ginger moustache lived out it's final moments before being shaved off on Sunday. I wore a hate that offered mustache rides (it was an American hat) for the discounted rate of only 10 cents. I had to explain what a mustache ride is to quite a few people and was shocked at the British naivete I encountered.

On the way to the party a large biker type guy gave Jeremy a funny look as we walked through Stratford, after the large man had passed out of hearing distance Jeremy looked at me and said 'That man wishes he had a mustache like this.' And I said, 'Yes, it's because your dick is sooo big.' And then we laughed and laughed again. Then we went to the party and had a wonderful time, although a girl in a blue dress with her moustache on her chin (how silly!) spent a bit too much time close talking my man. I thought about getting all Loretta Lynn on her and sending her on a trip to Fist City but then I decided to have some more wine, because really, that twizzled ginger mustachioed hunk hunk is all mine, I've got no need to worry about a hussy in a blue dress.

Please excuse the multiple spellings of m(o)ustache in this entry, expatriate living can be confusing.

a few things

2008-01-23T11:13:00.001Z

First off, check out this picture of my mom. This was taken on the day she met my grandparents. She is totally cute, and I'm not just saying that because she looks like me (or rather I look like her) but because it's true (and because I look like her). My estimation is that she's about 21 in this picture but she looks closer to 15. I like that you can see cigarette smoke wafting by in the photo because it makes me think of my Grandma who was always smoking.

Second, we have been going to the movies lately and have been seeing the downer movies of the year. 4 Month, 3 Weeks and 2 Days. Wow. If you look up bleak in the dictionary you will find a frame from this fun time movie of the year. Not to say it wasn't good, it totally was, but man. Not that I expected a movie about procuring an illegal abortion in Romania under Communist rule to be happy fun time, but, man. The we say No Country for Old Men, which was also really good, but, man. we had to cancel plans to go out for cocktails after because both Jeremy and I were like, 'That movie wore me the hell out, I need to go to bed.'

But then we remedied the situation by seeing the mediocre but perfectly enjoyable Dan in Real Life on Sunday when our plans to go to Spa London near Bethnal Green got dicked up.

Third, we went back to Bistrotheque on Sunday evening after having a pretty crap dining experience there a few months ago when the wait staff kept forgetting us and the kitchen kept losing our order. They gave us a free meal to compensate for said crap experience and it was really really nice. You can find the menu at the link above. I had The Reindeer cocktail to start, followed by the Wild Mushroom starter and then the duck breast and the lemon tart. Totally delicious and properly served. So hooray for Bistrotheque. I recommend it. They do cabaret shows too, we haven't seen one yet but they get good reviews and the one going on the first night we were there featured a techno version of the A+Team theme song so it can't be half bad.

Fourth, Jeremy and I re-enacted the Democratic debates last night. except we've only read about them so we don't actually know what was said so we just yelled racist and mysoginistic things at each other in cartoon mean voices until we were laughing so hard we could barely speak. Not that I think Clinton is a racist or that Obama is a mysoginist, but would it make the debates more fun if they just started screaming totally inappropriate things at each other. Our favorites were Go pick some cotton! and Bitch, make me some dinner!

Why yes, we are actually 12 years of age. we're considering making Hillary and Barack masks and posting a video on YouTube. It would either be awesome or horrible.

Fifth, we are buying a new bed. It will be awesome.

Sixth, my dad is getting another heart cath and possibly some more stints put in today. This should make my parents' insurance costs even more shameful. When they told me how much they pay a month over Thanksgiving I was shouting at the dinner table in outrage at the American system. I mean, yeah, the UK isn't perfect, but it's a hell of a lot better in many ways than what I left behind.

Seventh, Oliver the cat remains awesome as ever. Last night he fell asleep in Jeremy's sock drawer. It was dead cute. Just thought you should know.

Take that Seasonal Affective Disorder!

2008-01-16T10:47:00.000Z

My friend Lori is going to come visit me this summer. I am totally 100% geeked. Lori and I have officially know each other since I was 3 and she was 4 at the church that scarred us both theologically for life but weren't freinds then because as a 3 year old I was obviously a baby and not fit to spend time with the 4 year old crew. We met again when we were 19 and 20 respectively through a mutual friend when it was discovered that we were both shipping off to Wayne State University in the the fall of 97 and I had the good luck to begin building a friendship with her and our friend Harmony. A friendship based largely on an evening spent watching a horror movie about sorority sisters during which we all chose girlfriends and hoped that our special lady would be the killer (mine totally was). Even though I was referred to as Beer Bitch all evening long, it was certainly the start of something special.

We all worked together at the Cass Cafe and grew a really wonderful cirlce of lady friends and some boy type friends too. In my mind this was a golden time. I made some great friends and feel like the two years I spent in Detroit were the years that I grew into myself. And Lori and Harmony (or Harm-ass as she is more affectionately known) remain the friends I can see after a two year absence without any awkwardness and lapse in comfort and conversation.

Neither of them have been able to visit yet, Lori has a kid now and Harmony works as a nurse without loads of time off or money. So when I got the email from Lori last night, especially after just seeing her in November, I actually yelled, Fuck yeah and then jumped up and down.

Last week I started looking for reasons not to off myself during these the grayest and rainiest days of London's winter and as soon as I told Jeremy that we needed to start planning trips so i had daydream fodder we decided to go to Athens for our birthdays, started looking at trips to the Dominican Republic for our friend Dana's wedding this June and then got this email from Lori. The universe heard my cry. Clearly God does not wasn me to commit climate related suicide, I shall live to see the spring!

dangerous times

2008-01-15T13:16:00.000Z

So the Brit nominations were announced today and they are notable for the heavy influx of pop acts nominated over the guitar heavy mope rock of years past. I've got now problem with this. I like pop music, possibly too much at times, but I have thrown off the shackles of my youthful indie snobbery and embraced all sorts and styles of music. But the following quote from the above article gives me dark and sinister chills:

'REM's Michael Stipe called Mika, who qualifies thanks to his British passport, "a great songwriter" and a key influence on the band's new album.'

Mika is a what what now? Are they dating or something? Because that might explain this frightening lapse in tast on the part of Michael Stipe (who's music I admittedly do not listen to as much anymore, but still!) I mean sure Mika has pretty eyes and is sort of androgynously cute, but a great songwriter? Hardly. An annoying screechy little muppet? Maybe.

Yeesh, Stipe, just put another nail in the coffin of our once beautiful and active imaginary relationship. If it weren't for every single REM album up to and including New Adventures in Hi-Fi we would be totally over right now!

Thinking about the internet

2008-01-08T10:31:00.000Z

On livejournal some of the people who make up my friends' list have been talking about the Bust Lounge lately. I started posting on the Lounge in 1999 after stumbling onto it from a website called Disgruntled Housewife (don't know if this still exists and doubt it would make it through the web filter here) while I was working my first office job as an Office Clerk at an Architectural Engineering firm in Detroit. My first post was about my new and about to end relationship with Jeremy and how I was stressed out because it was supposed to be a simple summer fling but now had all these emotions involved and this boy totally liked me more than I liked him and it was just too much, too much! And the first person to respond to me was the lady we all know and love as LorMo, Inc. who told me to get over myself and not to be such a spaz (but nicer).

That was the beginning of a long, long affair with the Bust Lounge. For awhile it was really good. People online there supported me when I moved to Las Vegas more than anyone else in my life. They told me it was okay to try this new place and they also told me it was okay to admit that I had made a mistake and leave. I wonder sometimes if I didn't use that space as too much of a crutch, as a reason to hide out a bit and avoid the real world, but at the same time I don't know if I would have even lasted 6 months without those women supporting me and giving me things to laugh and cry about.

And those same women saw me through the move to Chicago and my difficult first year living there. The time I spent online waxed and waned depending on jobs and online drama (I totally love a good interweb fight! There's something so awesome about what people will say when you can't see their faces, the way polite society just breaks down). I learned a lot about myself and my politics while posting on those boards, a lot of my ideas changed around completely after I passionately fought for one side of an argument and realised that my views were actually unsupportable and foolish and a lot of my ideas became even more firmly grounded as I took closer looks at myself and realised I was totally 100% right. I made some good and great friends and maintain contact with many of the women I met there to this day, 3 of them are represented on the right side of this screen and they make up the bulk of my Friends' List on Livejournal.

But something changed for me around 2002, actually I can place it to an exact day in 2002 but that would force discussion of some private issues I choose not to blog about, anyhow, in early 2002 the love affair began to fade for me and I began to re-examine my relationship with this internet space. While I had received immense amounts of support there for years I also felt that something was missing. I can't say where this lack was coming from. If I was giving less, getting less, needing less, I'm not sure. I know that around this time many of the people I felt closest to were leaving for personal and professional reasons of their own and I think in part I was less inclined to make the same bonds with new people. Whatever the cause, even though 2002 was another tumultuous year I found myself pulling away. I was still involved, and continued to post until approx. 2005. I find it interesting that I can remember right when I started but am hazy about when I stopped. While I remember my first post in detail, I have no clue what my final post was about.

I don't remember posting there when I was ill in 2006 despite the fact that I was online a lot then, I think I read occasionally but I've no recollection of interacting with anyone.

It's weird to me that something that was such a huge part of my life could have fallen out of my life so completely. Well not really completely, I still interact almost daily with people I met (but have never physically met) there. I could not imagine going an entire day without checking in there, even during the years when I was liking the space less and less I still felt weirdly obligated to it and then one day the obligation just disappearred. How could I have gone from needing something so much one minute to having it disappaer from my life?

It's sort of like losing a friend, that drifting apart that happens due to neglect and distance. You don't exactly mean to lose touch until you realise that you already have.

This is probably a boring entry for people who aren't involved. Sorry. I've just been hashing it around in my head the last few days so I thought I'd hash it around here too. I'll go back to bitching about phlegm and files soon enough.

New Year, New Snot

2008-01-05T20:52:00.000Z

Oh I have had the sickness all week long. My yearly chest cold that often turns into bronchitis. I held off the bronchitis this year with some aggressive dosing of LemSip, Walgreen's Nite Time (smuggled in by anyone wishing to visit us in London), Beecham's All-In-One, and lots and lots of hot tea. Oh and sleep. i slept more this week than I have slept all year I think. In a sneaky bit of good bad luck my account at work was deactivated accidentally so even though i went to the office every day but Tuesday (Bank Holiday) and Friday when I actually called in I wasn't really able to do a damn thing so I didn't feel too bad about leaving the office early every day. Next week is going to be totally miserable but I won't have bronchitis so I think it will be totally worth it.

I spent New Year's Eve at home after briefly venturing out for Thai food with Jeremy and some friends. They went on to a party at Scooterworks UK where I hear they had a lovely time. i was awake at midnight but only enough to blow my nose and swig down the aforementioned Nite Time. I'm not a huge New Year's fan, it's a pretty over rated party night most years and I've only had a few really fun New Year's eves in my adulthood, too many expectations. So I didn't mind staying home like an old lady and fighting with Oliver for space in the bed.

I've got now resolutions this year. I already started going to the gym again right after Christmas and if I claim I'm going to be cleaner or more driven I'll only disappoint myself. Not that I won't try to be those things, I totally will, but I'd rather not add in any extra pressure. i prefer setting resolutions for myself around my birthday when I start feeling totally old and creatively unfulfilled.

Tonight I ventured out of the house and into Brixton where we had burritos at Dogstar and then saw Heima at the Ritzy. It was a good return to the outside world even if I am back home at 9pm preparing to fight that sneaky Oliver for bed space again. He is a demanding cat.

Back in the File Factory

2007-12-27T12:47:00.000Z

Gosh, it's hard to come back to work after two lovely days off. Two days spent reading in bed and watching movies. For Christmas dinner we made polenta with mushrooms and the following roasted vegetables: Endive and radicchio (too bitter for my tastes but Jeremy really liked them), roasted heads of garlic, butternut squash and apples, green beans with garlic, carrots in lemon juice, and fennel with red onion. We also sauteed some dionsaur kale and Jeremy made fresh bread that we spread the garlic on. It was all pretty tasty.

My favorite was the squash and apple dish followed closely by the green beans with garlic. My breath currently makes people run away with fear. I also had Gin and Tonics on Christmas eve because it's okay to drink gin on a Monday if you don't have to be at work on a Tuesday. I'm pretty sure that's in the Bible, probably in Acts or something, there are a lot of rules in Acts.

But now I'm back at my desk trying to motivate myself and get moving again. At least next week is only a four day work week to ease me back into the 5 day work week after. Still I'd rather have today and tomorrow off. Maybe I'll have a Gin and Tonic tonight to help ease the pain.

Happy Christmas, Dear Reader(s)

2007-12-24T10:04:00.000Z

I will be celebrating with a roast vegetable and polenta dinner, stinky cheeses, mulled wine and blueberry muffins.

Maybe some sugar cookies too.

If we tie any ribbons on Oliver I'll be sure to post pictures (providing he doesn't kill me first)

Hope you all have an awesome Christmas if only for the day off work.

These are some people who have died (who have died)

2007-12-21T15:03:00.000Z

When I was back in Detroit I found out that my old manager, Marco, from the Cass Cafe had passed away. He had cancer. I hadn't seen him since probably 2000 or 2001, but still it was a shock to hear this news.

Things about Marco

It was claimed that he hired waitresses based on their cuteness (being hired at the Cass Cafe was a huge boost for my tiny ego, that bit is more about me though)
Once, about 12 hours into a 14hour shift, he made me cry when he told me to get the fuck out of his way.
He wore his hair in a long white pony tail.
Every now and again he would yell out "Shot time for my girls!" and all the waitress would rin to the bar where he would pour us shots.
He offered me and Renee a raise one year if we would stay and help clean the Cass from top to bottom on Labor Day (from $2.25 an hour to $2.50 an hour) but then after we did all the work he said he just promised us free pizza from Pizza Papalis. I threatened to quit and he backed down.
He had a daughter none of us knew about until she just showed up one day, age 16, asking if Mark was around.
When she moved in he totally cleaned up his act and tried really hard to be a good dad. I don't know how successful he was.
One Hallowe'en he ordered us all to dress up if we were working. He asked me what I was going to be and I said 'I'm gonna be a fucking waitress, Marco.' And he said, 'Don't be a smart ass Kohl.' And I said, 'Just you wait!' When I showed up in an old orange Saunder's dress, Cat's eye glasses, red wig and support hose he laughed so hard he nearly cried.
He was a mad scientist that year.
He was a total lech, always leering at girls and making inappropriate comments, but he was also sweet in his own way.
He always made the hooker who came in to use the pay phone buy a coke in a to go cup before she could make her business calls but he never gave her a hard time.
He was always kind to crazy Gamey who came in every day for coffee.
One night when we were dead slow he came up with a game for us to play we each had to list out all the alternative names we could think of for the penis. He totally won, he had over 40. My favorite was The Captain.

It is always strange to add another name to the list of people I will certainly never see again. It is hard for me to remove the hope and ambivalence surrounding my memories of these people, the idea that there will be one more time when we will laugh with or bitch at each other.

He was certainly too young to die and I am sure he is missed by many.

Year in review

2007-12-19T11:44:00.000Z

Worst things of the year

Being put in charge of the stupid Legal Records team
Finding out exactly how cold and damp my house is
Family drama (imagine me saying it DRAH-MAH like an old drunk queen)
Stinky and the Temp Wot Came from Essex
Car crashes in Michigan
Arthritis that won't go away
Stomach pains and the stress that exacerbated them

Best things of the year

Paris! Food in Paris, Drink in Paris, looking at Paris, Ice Cream in Paris, Chocolates in Paris, Paris Paris Paris! France, not Hilton)
Venice! Gelato! Prosecco! Yay!
Buying a house
Meeting my baby niece for the first time ever
Seeing my big kid nieces for the first time in ages
Jeremy (he's a static best thing)
Oliver (also a static best thing)
Seeing my friend Lori and Harmony for the first time in years
Spending good non crazy making time with my folks
Learning that I am capable of handling being put in charge of the stupid Legal Records team
Getting comfortable in my skin again for the first time in years
Discovering that I am, in fact, "Everything that is good about America!" Sorry, baseball and apple pie, it's all me!
Having at least three, possibly five wonderful glimmery wow my life is really good moments (quality not quantity that counts here)
Seeing that my best things totally outnumber my worst things. Fucking sweet!

Revelations (minus the horsemen of the apocalypse)

2007-12-11T19:59:00.000Z

Something you should know. For all his shortcomings politically my dad was really awesome on Thanksgiving. He drove into Port Huron after I called my folks sounding like a mad spaz from our smashed up car. He got to the hospital while they were taking my details, told me that Jeremy was fine, and held my hand and let me cry while I was strapped to the back board. He got the nurses to let me go to the toilet after they unstrapped me. And then he told me that white wine would mix just fine with Vicoden. "It's a muscle relaxer too," he said.

And then on the way home I was nervously jabbering about all sorts of things and started to talk about my lousy luck with everything from waxy tea to arthritis to shitty coworkers to a fucking car accident on Thanksgiving day and he said, "No, you're not unlucky at all. You're very lucky that the car got hit where it did and you both walked away. You're alive"

And usually that kind of statement really gets my goat and makes me sputter and bluster and grump around, but maybe the magic of Thanksgiving made me see the light because all I could think was that my dad was right. Totally right. I mean don't tell him that I agree with him or anything, because it's fairly rare. But yeah, I am lucky in a lot of ways (not the least of which is that I live in London, UK rather than London, Ontario like everyone at the hospital kept insisting, one nurse even told Jeremy that UK stood for Yukon Territory) and it is good to remember that. it is good to put the sarcasm and snarkiness on hold occasionally and just be glad I have this life. It's pretty fucking good despite my weather forecasting joints.

Some things about America

2007-12-11T13:09:00.000Z

Everyone there is awfully noisy
The roads are super duper wide
Portions are HUUUUUGE!
People are louder
Customer service is so much better than it is in the UK
Detroit is sort of sad now.
But, The DIA has been redesigned really well and the new layout is pretty awesome.
This leads us to the hoodie I saw in the airport while we waited for our flight. It was green and in yellow letters it said: "Detroit is pretty awesome!" Way to aim for the mediocre Detroit!
Trouble is brewing with my family, trouble I have no control over at all. Trouble I will be hearing about for awhile. Trouble I will continue to try and buffer my niece from. But still, trouble.
It's hard to be a distant witness.
Being an expat is a bittersweet experience. Home becomes a really vague and varied notion. My home is here in London, with Jeremy and Oliver, in our house. But my home is also still in Michigan and Chicago and every time I go back to those places they become less and less recognizable. IE The party store where I used to blow my allowance on Charleston Chews, 3 Muskateers and New York Seltzer has been torn down. The man who bought the house I grew up in cut down all but on of our fruit trees, the Chestnut trees and the pine trees that I used to play under. The mall has become a ghost town. Royal Oak is barely a shadow of what I remember, it's all chain stores now. My friends are buying houses. Lori's son is 4 and can speak in sentences. Everything is sort of the same, but very different.
I miss my friends a lot. I only got to spend one day with them and it wasn't enough.
I never, ever want to live someplace without decent public transportation ever again. Cars are boring!
The snow was beautiful even if it did cause car accidents.
I miss Thanksgiving.
I may even miss my family just a tiny tiny bit. Don't tell any of them though, okay.

Return of the Prodigal Kitten Face

2007-12-06T14:21:00.000Z

Oliver came home last night. We were both very happy to see each other. I assume that Jeremy was happy too but really the important bond is that between girl and cat. Boy and cat have a secondary and therefore less important bond. This theory is supported by the fact that Jeremy never said at any moment on our vacation 'I really miss Oliver.' Or even 'I can't wait to see Oliver again.' He barely even responded when I made similar comments during those sad and barren Oliver-free days.

Oliver, if you're reading this, take note. Jeremy does not love you as much as I do.

We got to Catford where Oliver was staying with our old neighbor and her mean cat Pebbles (Oliver has scratches on his beautiful cheeks, damn you Pebbles!) and the minute we walked in the door we heard the sad tones of our boy meowing out as if to say, O! Carolyn! Rescue me! And he ran straight to me and reveled in the belly rubs he received.

I think they were starving him and denying him all affections because he was clearly smaller than he was when we left and he was needier than ever before as well. When I gave him his wet food he inhaled it as if he had not eaten in two whole weeks. Poor, poor Oliver.

He slept cuddled between us last night, waking intermittently to head butt me in the face and demand further attentions. Thank goodness he has returned to the warm bosom of my affection where belly rubs are freely handed out and received.

Knocked Up

2007-12-05T16:56:00.000Z

I don't watch Grey's (or is it Gray's?) Anatomy so I don't care about the first half of this article, but i agree with what she says in the last bit about Knocked Up. A movie a liked for a lot of reasons but also have issues with for exactly the reason she mentioned. The women were painted as awfully shrewish and that hardly seems fair.

I'm looking forward to seeing Juno when it comes out here because I think it will tackle a similar storyline (with younger characters obviously) in a more even handed way (character developmentally that is).

Jeez, too many parenthese up there. That has to be a sign of lazy writing.

Jet lag is not fair

2007-12-04T15:05:00.000Z

Dudes, I'm really tired.

There were a bunch of jerks on my overnight flight from Toronto who wouldn't stop yammering all night long. And some other jerk who kept falling asleep on the call button, so you know what i didn't do last night? Sleep. And so you know what not sleeping is? Hella lame.

Also, I watched Love, Actually and now I have questions. Like why didn't laura Linney get to do it with the hot guy? Not Fair! Why didn't Bill Nighy French his fat manager? And what the hell was with those 'Wisconsin Girls'? I have met girls from Wisconsin they are not so creepy, and they do not have southern accents.

I'm thinking about Love, Actually too much. That can't be good.

This Thanksgiving . . .

2007-11-23T14:55:00.001Z

I am thankful to be alive. Yesterday while we were driving to Marysville to pick up two of my nieces for some Dance Dance Revolution I lost control of my father-in-law's care while I was passing a large semi. I tapped the cab of the semi and spun Jeremy and I into the very muddy and cold median. The damage to the car was minimal and we were unhurt but we were also stuck. Just as we were about to call AAA a St Clair County sheriff arrived and took our info and said he would call a tow for us. While he was doing this another car spun out going westbound on 69 (we had been traveling eastbound) a second car hit it and then a black Jeep Cherokee attempted to avoid both those cars and lost control, ultimately slamming into the rear driver's side of our completely stationery car.

Jeremy's head ended up smacked into the windshield and I got tossed around a fair bit. He has a concussion and I have Acute Cervical Trauma (aka whiplash) and we are both sore as hell. But we are also pretty fucking lucky. Lucky that the Cherokee hit the back of the car. Lucky that we didn't already have my nieces in the car. Lucky we weren't more seriously hurt.

Now I have the distinct privilege of wearing a neckbrace with my beautiful new dress. Awesome.

Today we are both really really sore. I have vicoden and he is taking 800 mg of ibu profen 3X a day. He is slightly more wary of the marvels of modern medicine than I am and refused the prescription.

They say that Stuart's (Jeremy's Dad) auto insurance will cover our medical bills, we both still had a few moments of solid terror though when we realized that we hadn't bought travel insurance and that we were pretty sure the hospital wouldn't take NHS.

Best of all though, the woman who did my Cat Scan used to baby sit me and my brother when she was a teenager.

Port Huron is a small town. But you already knew that.

I also got to meet my newest niece Kate. She wasn't sure of me and my neck brace but she was still pretty awesome.

ETA We made the papers!

http://www.thetimesherald.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20071123/NEWS01/711230310/1002

that's jeremy on the stretcher in the first picture, and in the third picture you can see the jeep cherokee and the saturn we were driving.

you may henceforth refer to us as Attica Man,31, and Attica Woman,30

working from home

2007-11-16T09:56:00.000Z

is kind of a joke. especially right before i start my vacation.

it still helps me avoid fist fights on somebody's last day.

i picked out her leaving present yesterday. i chose something very nice, it wasn't easy but i did it.

now, i never ever have to see her again. ever.

and i get to go on vacation!

awesome.

The sandwich that changed my life

2007-11-09T11:29:00.000Z

Boxing Day 2005
Jeremy and I were spending our last day in Barcelona. After discovering that the Gaudi museum was closed we trekked up to another museum, I can't even remember the name, we were so tired that we mostly just wandered around the grounds, in my memory it merges with Montremartre in Paris. A mix of hilly terrain and graffiti in foreign languages. We walked down the hill and found a cafe that was serving sandwiches and tapas. We ordered potato salad, onion and tomato salad and I had an omelet and ham sandwich.
There was nothing remarkable about this sandwich. It was tasty, i barely remember noticing that it was a tiny bit runny.
Later that night we met up with our Catalan friend Silvia and had churros and suiza and then she drove us to the airport. We got back to canceled trains at Gatwick and freezing cold London weather. It took ages to get back to our flat and by the time we got home we were both grumpy and tired.
The next day we walked down to our high street to get some groceries and I began to experience so intense stomach cramps. Sharp horrible pains that made me want to double over. I walked home and left Jeremy with the shopping.
At first we thought it was just a bad a stomach virus. Everyone was in the grips of a horrible puking/pooping virus right then and in Barcelona we had visited with our friend Cristina who was recovering from said virus. I saw my GP who seemed unconcerned and my blood tests came back showing that I had some sort of infection, which was in keeping with the accepted theory. Over a week later I wasn't any better. In fact I was suffering from sharp horrible pain in my lower back as well now. We went to the out of hours clinic and the dr there decided I had some sort of infection, probably kidney. We know now that it was more likely a bowel infection.
He prescribed antibiotics and I saw my regular GP who said I was safe to fly home for our planned trip to Chicago and Detroit.
When we got to Chicago my toes and the left side of my jaw started to hurt. By the time we were in Detroit my ankles and knees were in the mix. By the time we returned home my hips had joined the party.
I went back to my GP and gave him the run down of all my strange ailments. I created a calender of sickness to show him the timeline of all the symptoms. he half listened and then said, 'Well, what do you want me to do about this?' I sputtered and stuttered and said 'I want you to make me better.'
He didn't.
Two days later I woke up and could barely support myself, the pain in my ankles and feet was so bad. I called a taxi and went to A&E where I was examined quickly but still had to wait 6 hours for a diagnosis. Reactive arthritis caused by some sort of infection. Somebody else just down the hall had the same symptoms as me. I thought maybe we could form a club. The doctor who saw me that day was great. She loved my calender of sickness and the photo I took of my sausage toes to show friends back home. She commended me on my diligent note taking.
She gave me strong pain pills. Dr Lacey, I commend you.
I went back to my GP once more and was greeted with the same disregard and nonchalance.
I got a new GP.
My new GP ran the right tests and we discovered that I had Salmonella. Then she told me all about how 10% of the people who get Salmonella will also suffer from strange side effects, one of the most common is reactive arthritis caused by the bacteria moving into your joints. I am like the luckiest lady in the world.
She got me into a rheumatology clinic where they gave me steroid shots and drained my giant swollen knee.
They told me it would last for 6 months to a year.
Then about 8 months later they said, oh no more like a year to 18 months.
Then they said, oh probably more like 2 years.
Yesterday I asked the rheumatologist why the time line kept increasing. She said, 'Honestly, because we don't really know. With some people it does go away entirely in that first timeline, for some people they always experience mid level pain, and some people always experience very bad pain. At this point it sounds like you are in that second group. And while it's not as bad as it could be, it is an irritation.'
I take a bit of offense at having this referred to as an irritation like it's something I can ignore. I know that it's mostly gone and I am lucky it isn't worse, but it is hard to feel THAT lucky when you've just been told that your joints are probably never ever going to be normal again. The pain I have in my knees right now, the pain in my hip when I wake up in the morning, the horrible foot cramps I get whenever the temperature drops, they are not going away.
Therefore I am feeling pretty fucking sorry for myself right now. I am pissed off that I ever ate that fucking sandwich. And I am pissed off that one dodgy sandwich could have altered my life so much. And I'm pissed off at myself for being such a baby, but I'm tired of always having something sort of wrong with me and now I am facing the fact that there will always be something sort of wrong with me and that's just shitty. Not as shitty as having my hands chopped off or getting cancer or being paralyzed or any number of horrible things really, but still shitty.
So the moral of this story is, I guess, watch the state of your eggs (especially in Barcelona) because a sandwich can change everything, and rarely for the better.
Although, wouldn't it be great if there was a sandwich that cured Salmonella and reactive arthritis? I would eat that sandwich every single day, even if it had anchovies!

This Weekend I:

2007-11-05T09:27:00.000Z

Went here for cocktails and tasty Dim Sum
Saw this and was confused
Ate here and had delicious food (Guinea fowl on asalsify and shallots and crabcakes in a saffron hollandaise) but had really crap service.
Made all my clothes fit in my drawers.
Braved the big Sainsbury's on a Saturday morning.
Hopped a fence in Hyde Park to see this before it got taken down.
Did not bother with the Matthew Barney exhibit. I don't care if Bjork loves him, I don't care for the artwork of Matthew Barney and if this makes me a luddite then I am happy to be a luddite (see also Carolyn's feelings about Duchamp (more commonly referred to as fucking Duchamp) and Andy Warhol)
Bought the book that goes along with this exhibit that we saw in Venice this summer
Ate considerably less fancy dinner at a Thai place in Soho with much better service.
Went to Tate Modern and saw this and this. Was really impressed by both. Especially Louise Bourgeois, I didn't know a whole lot about her before but am really glad I got to see her art now. Especially the rooms she makes out of doors and her spiders. And I hate spiders!
Made a tasty cheesy spinach and egg thing and jeremy made coffee cake and we ate a nice breakfast
took a taxi with Jeremy into town and bought some books and got a ticket to see this.
Said goodbye to Jeremy before he went to the airport (Hence the taxi, we could expense it! Expensing stuff is awesome!) to fly off to Munich for the week.
Ate potstickers and drank bubble tea in Chinatown, before coming home to hang out with Oliver and go to bed.

It was a nice weekend and even though it was busy it always seemed leisurely as well. Except when I cut my hand on the fence in Hyde Park. That just hurt.

New Dress

2007-11-02T09:28:00.000Z

http://www.principles.co.uk/fcp/product/-/DRESSES/Grey-Embellished-Dress/6074

That is the dress I will be wearing to Jeremy's cousin's wedding the Saturday after Thanksgiving. It cost more than my own wedding dress but I don't care I look hot in it and it will match my silver wedding shoes. Now I just need to figure out make up, hair, and wrap.

Oh and should i wear nude fishnets, or black tights?

Help me blogosphere, you're my only hope!

Tales from the streets of Nunhead

2007-11-01T15:01:00.000Z

While handing out candy to our few trick-or-treaters the little boys who live kitty corner to us, came over to collect some sweets.

There are three of them and their parents are really nice a young sort of rockabilly looking couple who are always super friendly.

Anyhow I asked them what they all were and the oldest said, 'Oh we're just made up monsters.' And their mother started to laugh and said 'What did he say?'
So I repeated, 'Made up monsters.'
And she laughed harder before saying 'Oooh, I thought he said Made Up Nonsense!'

Then he showed us the brain he had in his box (fresh from a monkey) and they were on their way.

Next year I think I will be Made Up Nonsense for Halloween. Not sure how I'll put it together but it can't be that hard.

Waxy Tea is Not Okay

2007-10-30T13:18:00.000Z

So on Sunday we met up with some friends in Brixton for Sunday Roast (the true cure for Saturday's drinking) everyone was a little be more stupid than they normally would be due to the cocktails at our costume party, The Black Cat certainly did it's part to knock me down a few pegs.

Anyhow, we all spoke slowly and ate our roast beef or veggie sausages and then we realized that the pub we were eating in had run out of desserts! The horror! Didn't they know we were hung over and craving sweets? Why didn't they know?!?!?!

So we went to the Prince Pub on Brixton Road. The Prince is a standard gastro pub that will forever live in infamy because it is the location of the great passport and Visa theft of 2006 wherein my handbag was lifted off the sofa I was sitting on and stolen away from me. As you may have guessed, at the time my purse contained not only my standard belongings but also my US Passport complete with UK Visa. This led to a soul killing day spent at the Home Office at Lunar House in Croydon which cost me approx £500 and sucked a few years off my life (sort of like The Machine in the Princess Bride but with a longer queue). But I didn't blame the pub for that, no, I blamed the thief. So I went back happily enough and ordered a peppermint tea and sticky toffee pudding from the distracted waitress.

45 minutes later I had my pudding but no tea. About ten minutes later the tea arrived covered by a white saucer. I took off the saucer and placed it under the mug and took a nice big drink (hung over = thirsty after all) I burnt my mouth so it took a minute to notice the strange film that had coated my mouth, but when I did I began to scrape at the roof of my mouth and found a strange white residue coming out on my fingers. We pointed this out to the gentleman delivering the last of our drinks and he said with a laugh, "Oh God, we used those saucers for candles last night, they must still have wax on them! Can I get you another?"

To which I responded, "Uh no," and tried not to vomit because I had dirty pub candle wax coating my mouth. I went up to complain more formally but all I could get out was something along the lines of "Seriously dude, I'm pretty grossed out about this, it's unacceptable."

They didn't charge me for my tea or anyone else for their hot drinks, but they never at any point apologized to me for the fact that I had a mouth full of dirty pub candle wax. Totally not cool.

So to The Prince Pub in Brixton I say the following:

Screw you and your thieving clientele and your crappy service and your dirty wax field tea. You suck.

Halloween!

2007-10-29T10:20:00.000Z

We had our Halloween on Saturday. I was a cat burglar. Specifically, a burglar of cats. I should have a picture of me burgling Oliver soon too. But for now, I hope you will be satisfied with this dastardly image.

Our party was attended by the following characters:
Princess Diana fresh from the crash
Mr Bennet from Heroes (jeremy)
Electro Boy Electro Girl from the Mighty Boosh
Rosie the Riveter
Amy Winehouse
Anna Nicole Smith in clown makeup and toga
The Swirly faced pedophile
Poison Ivy
Dracula
Multiple zombies
Little Red Riding Hood
Carrie (in blood)
Dr. Zoidberg

Frankenstein's Monster and Bride
Twin Witches
One muderous pumpkin
Catwoman
A Pirate Zombie (the ultimate combination)
A few vampires
And a Plague doctor with a squeaky rat on his shoulder

We had almost 40 people in our tiny house and garden, and as far as I could tell they all had a good time. I don't know that we'll ever have such a large party again but it was good to have done it once.

Especially since it gave me an excuse to play my Bangles CD!

Where's my trust fund?

2007-10-24T09:38:00.000+01:00

Back in high school I knew this kid who came from a sort of wealthy family (wealthy in Port Huron is pretty far from wealthy in London, but they seemed properly rich to me at the time) and he had plans to go onto some sort of lucrative and responsible career. I of course had plans to pursue an English degree and while that meant I would know words like lucrative, responsible and career, it was unlikely that they would ever work together to bring me money.

So, in our Senior year, I stumbled upon an absolutely genius idea! This kid (who I had totally wasted my time on Freshman year when I had a huge and foolish crush on him, he called me like four times and then met some girl at the mall and totally left me hanging. Jerk.) with his responsible plans leading him to the world of financial surplus, should set me up with a trust fund in order to finance my creative endeavours. Sort of like a patron system. He clearly thought it was a good idea. I have written proof in my year book from 1995 that he was at least considering it. Do you think that counts as any kind of binding legal contract? Because I could totally use a trust fund right about now. No joke. I'm not meant for a life of working, I'm meant for a life of leisure.

Creative Decisions

2007-10-23T14:37:00.000+01:00

I have made a decision. I have decided to shelve my serious story ideas for right now and instead I am going to write a love story. It will be a traditional type love story about two people falling in love, but it will also be a love story about Detroit and about figuring out who you are. And there will be jokes and it will be fun. Fun to write, and hopefully, fun to read.

I've been putting all this emphasis on writing something important and deep. Something all full of truth and angst and I've been dreading it. And I've been hitting my snooze button to avoid it. And that is dumb. I love writing and I love creating stories and I used to love writing funny sweet stories about misfits and that's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to care how close it is or isn't to my real life I'm just going to start telling this new story and roll with it.

I did two pages long hand in thirty minutes at lunch today and it felt good and made me smile. I missed that feeling. I deserve to have it some more.

I am going to clean up the golden bit in the serious book idea and start submitting it as a short story, otherwise I am going to focus on telling some stories that make me feel joyful right now. They will probably venture into melancholy and even sorrow at points but ultimately I want them to make me happy.

Please not that this long hard look at my creative life is all down to my therapy sessions and reading a book written by someone who was born in 1980. It was her second book! It wasn't even that good. Not that I would admit it if it was. But, for real, it wasn't, I totally called the plot twist 1/4 of the way through! Since when are people who were born in 1980 old enough to read or write joined up letters anyhow? But the point is I was reading it for the fluff and the fun and while I was reading it i was like I could write a better more fun fluff book than the 1980 jerk! So I'm gonna.

1980 is stupid. 1977 is going to show her how it's done.

Dudes, why does beer hate me now?

2007-10-16T16:31:00.000+01:00

I went out for some beers last night. I know, drinking on a Monday is a bad idea, but a friend and her husband and sister were in town from the good old U S of A so, y'know, I had to.

She's the friend who introduced me to Jeremy and set us up on our blind date despite my initial misgivings about dating and blind dating and meeting new people and dating. And we had a really nice time at this touristy pub near Blackfriar's Bridge. But good God, I am so so so so so sososososososososososososososo tired today. I mean it! I only had 4.5 pints. That's not anywhere near enough to make me this sleepy. I don't have a headache or anything and not any sort of traditional hangover, but damn do I feel sluggish.

When did I get so lame? I used to be able to drink until 4 in the morning, sleep for an hour and a half and then go to work still drunk. Of course, I use the word work really loosely here as my morning were spent handing out cassette tapes in the language lab at Wayne State University where I regularly napped on my desk for a good hour or two each day. But still, it's not like that was proper sleep, that was more like passing out a little bit. But I didn't need sleep! I only needed the promise of more booze later on in the evening.

But now, if I'm not wearing my JimJams and tucked into bed by 10pm I'm a freaking wreck the next day. I'm an old lady now. Too much imbibing and carrousing back in the day has ruined me for all weeknight carrousing in the future.

My Lower Intestine is Pink

2007-10-11T20:02:00.000+01:00

Here are some things I learned yesterday

Private insurance can be good to have, it means you get a lovely view of the Thames from your recovery bed.
General Anesthetic is good too, especially when it helps you pass out right before the doctor puts a tube down your throat
It's totally weird to wake up and see you lower intestine on a television screen and realize that there is a tube up your bum
It is equally weird to see that two sachets of Picolax, a powder that clears out the intestines of most mortals, have not been enough to clear out your system.
It is super duper weird to see yesterday's lunch while it is still inside your body!
It is like super duper kaduper weird to watch someone taking biopsies from your intestine. I know I could have looked away and not watched Inside Carolyn TV, but it's sort of fascinating too.
Just because it doesn't hurt right after you colonoscopy is finished, that doesn't mean it won't hurt later on in the day.
In fact, it will probably hurt a lot and trying to get the peppermint tea off the top shelf will be a bad bad bad bad bad idea,
There is also a good chance that your guts will still be sore the next day and the only thing that will make you feel better will be new green flannel pyjamas (I don't care what Cherry says about green. He's wrong, green is awesome) and some library books (although how could Lolita be missing? Who would steal The Annotated Lolita? Lame! And eveln worse, how is it possible that the lady working at the library had never heard of Nabokov? Super duper lame!) and a long afternoon nap.
It is good to hear that your insides look normal even if your bowel likes to hold onto it's contents a little more stubbornly than most, and it is even better to hear that your doctor doesn't think you'll need to do this again. I mean new pyjamas are nice and all, but not really enough to make up for one tube down your throat and another up your butt.
There's not much that can make that sort of thing worth it really, not even a nice view of the river.

The Girl Conundrum

2007-10-08T14:54:00.000+01:00

My friend Chrystie and I were discussing this on Saturday. When is it no longer okay to refer to yourself as a girl? We're both thinking that we're probably reaching that point, her in her late 20s and about to aquire her PhD and me as a married 30 year old firmly ensconced in the world of middle management. Is it creepy for us to refer to ourselves as girls now? Is it time to take up the mantle of WOMAN?

I can see that at 30 I am pretty much out of the girl zone. I concede that I am a grown ass person now. I pay a mortgage, I think about maybe having babies someday (someday, Mom, don't get too excited yet), I have multiple bank accounts, I have investments (although truthfully I know fairly little about them, they are the domain of Auntie Pam), I attend weddings for more than just the open bar (not that I'll be turning down any of those free drinks, I just won't be trying to drink the cost of my dress this time), I have a degree, I have a proper job (sure I'm updating my Blog from it, who isn't?), I have quit smoking, I do a lot of ostensibly grown up things.

But the thing is, I do not feel like a grown up. Does that matter though? Does my interior battle to remain approximately 18 have any bearing on what I actually am? Am I a grown up despite my desire to still be in university staying out until 6AM with my friends? My actions are clearly not those of the drunk student I was in 1998. For one, that girl could hold her liquor a lot better than me. For two, she needed a lot less sleep. For three, she still had the metabolism of a 16 year old on crack. Not that I was ever on crack, just trying to make a point about my metabolism here.

But, really, what is it that makes us adults? Is age just a number (as R. Kelly and Aaliyah would have us believe)? Does anyone ever truly want to be an adult? Am I just in extreme denial about the loss of my youth? Is it creepy to refer to myself as a girl at the age of 30? When do we finally become women and men and how are those entities defined?

I seriously don't know, I think I used to have some vague idea but now that I am ticking all those boxes that used to define adulthood and I still don't feel especially adult, I wonder if I ever will.

New Pornographers, take 2

2007-10-05T10:33:00.000+01:00

- The rumour that Neko Case would be there was just that, a rumour. Boo!
+ Kathryn Caldwell is a really good singer and I think she does an excellent job even if she isn't Neko
- the acoustics at KOKO are kind of crap
+ the venue itself is pretty cool looking
+ we got a really good spot on the second balcony with excellent view of band and crowd
+ I spotted a man doing the finger pointing dance early on and he became secondary entertainment for the night. he just couldn't. Stop. Pointing. Awesome!
- The first few songs were a little bit faster than they normally are
+ The band seemed livelier and less jet lagged than the last time we saw them
+ AC Newman made a Star Wars joke
+ Sing Me Spanish Techno, Use It, The Mary Martin Show, My Slow Descent into Alcoholism, From Blown Speakers, The Laws Have Changed, and many others
- No Letter from and Occupant! What the hell?
- Seriously, the accoustics at KOKO, not okay

+++++++++ no violent drunk Australians trying to bring me down all night!

+++++++++ I had lots of fun at the show despite the crap acoustics because I was there with a bunch of friends and everyone was in a good mood and it was nice. I think this is one of the first times that I've felt like I was solidly part of a group on my own. Normally, I can hide behind Jeremy, his personality is bigger than mine and if I'm feeling slow or down I can let him be our spokesperson, but this week I've been out and about on my own and it's been really good. Not that I never go out with friends by myself, but I usually feel more nervous and less able to function. But this week I've just felt a lot more confident on my own than I have in awhile, despite having really down days on Tuesday and Wednesday. I wasn't floundering for conversation and feeling awkward. Instead, I was making jokes and dancing like the pointer and having an all around awesome time. So, yay to that, despite the crap acoustics and lack of Neko Case.

Killer

2007-10-02T13:41:00.000+01:00

That's right I'm committing murder, with kindness.

I am sweetness and light today bitches. I smile smile smile smile but if you look in my eyes it's all murderous rage. Or at least mild annoyance.

I also killed my skirt off about 20 minutes after getting to work this morning.

I saw a thread hanging and gave it a dug and down fell the hem of my H&M skirt. Sure it was 4 years old and cheap as hell when I bought it, but I felt a keen disappointment in my heart and then a keen increase in my credit card bill when I ran over to Monsoon and bought a pair of trousers to keep myself from looking like a slob in these hallowed halls of profit and greed.

They are very nice trousers.

And later this week I will hopefully not be driven to any sort of murderous rage at the New Pornographers show on Thursday. Neko Case is going to be there and if any drunk jerks try to ruin the night for me this time, well they'd just better watch out because I'm bottling up a lot right now and I might just go all green and Hulk like on them. Or cry. Probably cry.

In the Interests

2007-10-02T06:41:00.001+01:00

of improving my attitude, they shall now be known as The Wonderful Ladies, Sunshine and Superstar.

I fear that this job is making me repress so many emotions every day that I shall soon turn into my mother. If, at any point, I begin discussing the merits of cutting off most of my hair and getting a permanent wave I grant everyone in the world permission to shoot me.

In other news, my stomach has been acting up pretty badly lately so I saw a specialist last week and has scheduled me in for a colonoscopy and a gastroscopy next week. I'm not looking forward to either procedure but am hopeful that we might find something to help make this better. He was really clear about the fact that while stress might be triggering these problems that stress exacerbates a lot of stomach problems and that we shouldn't rule anything out until he'd taken a closer and more intimate look at my bowel. Luckily he also said he would be giving me drugs so I won't be awake for the gastroscopy and I will be super groggy and out of it for the colonoscopy.

In more other news, Jeremy should be in Sao Paulo right now, or on his way to the town where he will be staying near there. He is giving some safety training this week and won't be back until Monday. It's very quiet and sort of eerie here. Luckily Oliver has been a little extra needy lately so I don't feel like Elmyra so much when i spend all my time picking him up and demanding cuddles.

peaks and valleys

2007-10-01T18:37:00.001+01:00

I'm all ups and downs right now. After a lousy Friday at work I had a nice weekend spending time with friends and seeing Jeremy off on his way to Chicago and Brazil. But as you may have guessed if you were lucky enough to read my now deleted post (i'm getting paranoid-er in my old age) I was dreading work today and ended up spending most of the day feeling really ill. i left at four because I was having weird hot flashes and feeling super nauseated.

No fun.

I should have applied for a weekend extension. There has to be a way to make that happen.

I need to try to approach work with a better attitude. Sometimes i can manage it and when I do the days are better, but sometimes I just feel sucked into the evil web of The Horrible Ladies and i just want to cry. Or sweat excessively and suffer from stomach pains. One of those.