SimianExist

Where do I go from here?

2009-01-30T10:54:00.003+01:00

I have been mulling about this for a while and had many discussions with other fellow bloggers and friends. The time has come for this blog to retire since I have moved on, and it has become a bit of a chore to try and drag up anecdotes and other occurences to fill in these entries to match the persona I started out with here. I have, however, set up a new blog and will be posting from there from now on. It feels right that embarking on a new chapter in life, a new blog is required.

I will be sticking with Blogger for now while I play around with other hosting sites and decide which one suits me the most.

So, from SimianExist, we now move on to the next stage of evolution:

HomoSimian

See you there!

Where in the world is Oakdale?

2009-01-20T09:53:00.002+01:00

This appeared in a side bar link and I'm intruiged about this piece of literature that panders to local residents. I think I'm going to start writing a book that all the Swiss-Romandes would be dying to read.

Chapter 1

Etienne looked at the clock. It was precisely 11.47 and 23 seconds. 'Only one minute and 7 more seconds before my pasta will be done' he thought. 'perhaps I should wash my hands...'

Happy Old Year!

2009-01-13T09:32:00.003+01:00

Hi y'all, happy old/new year. Not much excitement there given all it seems to be is still gloom in the news. However, some interesting things have happened:

- The weather here has not been above 0°c since New Years Eve.
- I am shamefully addicted to the trainwreck of a website called GOOP which is hosted by none other than Gweneth Paltrow.
- I have joined a gym (yes, a gym) and am now going 3-4 times a week. Along with my non-drinking regime, and that OH and I have cut out red meat from our diet for now, along with some white meat (fish is still on the menu) I'm expecting the weight to melt away. It still hasn't shifted.
- My gym is full of really f***ing hot pieces. And it has a steam room, and a sauna. My last memories of a steam room & a sauna date back to 2005, pre-OH, and lots of naughtiness. That was also the time where in my haste to get away from a very keen sailor I opened the wrong door and found myself in an alleyway surrounded by bins and me wearing just a towel around my waist. In winter. And the door had shut tight on me with no way to get back in apart from going round the building again and through the entrance.
- I baked a loaf of bread from scratch. It was pretty easy but I panicked with the yeast when it smelt like horrid old gym kit but I looked it up online and it said that it was normal. I need to get a bread tin because I just flopped the dough onto a baking sheet to rise, and it rose upwards as well as outwards, and I ended up with something resembling a section dead coral reef. I think the hastily added sesame and sunflower seeds at the end contributed to the dead barnacle look.
- I'm not making any resolutions out aloud. I will go about them and if I succeed I can be smug, but if I fail, then at least no one will know that I attempted it.

Yes, Happy New Year to you all...

Everywhere...

2008-12-29T15:56:00.002+01:00

So, I look at my dismal stats and find out that someone came to this blog by typing into Google 'cat shitting everywhere'.

The surreal idea of being found via scatalogical felines is bewildering. I need to get back to reality.

Roundup...

2008-12-29T15:41:00.003+01:00

2008 is finally ending and I can't wait. Work has been fraught and I've realised that an errant client doesn't like me and takes all measures to trip me up and possibly get me fired. However, I've worked with people like that before and I know what he's playing at, so hopefully I have all bases covered and manage to stay ahead of said client.

Christmas with OH and the in-laws was wonderfully quiet. Everyone just did their own thing, and the only marginal panic happened when I mistimed the cooking of the duck breasts. Panic over, all served and everyone enjoyed the meal.

On the Saturday, OH and I headed into Newcastle City Centre. Its an interesting place, with nice Georgian buildings in the middle, and the rest of it is surrounded by ugly concrete 'modern' buildings. Verdict: I couldn't live there because its ugly and I have trouble understanding the Geordie accent.

We boarded the Metro to head back to the car, parked 6 stops away by some members of OH's family that we discovered practised Sapphic love. On the way I lamented my misfortune of not being able to purchase the shoes I wanted since I forgot my ID and the shop was adamant they wouldn't accept credit cards without a form of it. To make light of the situation I attempted to tell OH I was heartbroken, in a Geordie accent.

OH looked at me and asked, 'Why are you speaking Welsh?'

Bright eyes...

2008-12-08T11:54:00.001+01:00

I look out the window and the rain is lashing against the forlorn arms of the newly stripped poplars that line the street outside. A run-through in my head throws up the fact that I've just binned my last pair of rain-worthy shoes after a squelching walk to work Friday previously revealed a crack in one of the soles. Superglued back together, they lasted another week then promptly split on the sides.

(Note to self: make sure superglue is completely dry on soles before putting shoes on and standing on a newly polished parquet floor)

Then I remember that OH and I received matching snow shoes earlier in the year as a present from a friend who was excited that the outdoors shop near her had a closing down sale. These were black padded affairs with snow white faux-fur lining: Fauxmo-Ugg(ly) boots. I remember they're down in the nuclear bunker with the milk and other non-perishable goods. Looking through the cupboards I realise we need more tinned tomatoes, pasta and milk, so I make a trip down to level -1 for said things, plus waterproof footwear.

I get down past the heavy concrete lined lead door and unlock the grille. I fumble for the light switch and stay rooted while waiting for the energy saving light bulb to warm up. Phase One done. I walk over to the secondary holding area where the individial cells are divided by wooden slats and turn on the light and wait for it to light up again. Phase Two complete. I head down the corridor towards our allocated 'cave'.

The neighbours who have the cave next to us have an impressive wine collection, and when I am down there I love to peek through the slats to try and make out what new labels they've added. The last time it was a small wooden box yet unopened, with the unmistakable emblem burned on: PETRUS.

This time though I'm wondering what I'll see. I peer through the wooden slats and suddenly I let out a really bloodcurdling scream. I drop the keys to my cave and I remember that down here, no one can hear you. Its sealed from the world. It is, after all, a nuclear bunker. Still shaking, I pick up the keys and tell myself there's a reasonable explaination. I tentatively peer through the slats again.

There it is, an unmistakable glint in a pair of glassy eyes, staring straight at me. As the energy saving lightbulb gets more intense in the light glow, I can make out a head, and motionless arms extended towards me. I can also make out what is an old style perambulator and the eyes are those belonging to a doll. A shiver runs down my spine.

I breathe a sigh of relief, pick up the things I came down for and fled back to the safety of the world above ground.

Chances...

2008-11-13T11:36:00.002+01:00

- of winning the lottery? 1 in 14 million

- of being hit by lightning? 1 in 3 million

- of contracting an STD? 1 in 3

- of having my airline announce a pilots strike one day before I fly? Yes, its on.

Fuck the French work ethic.

One by one...

2008-11-11T12:56:00.002+01:00

Recent events in the financial markets means that I've been supremely busy with little time for anything else. Today I sent an email to a friend of mine and it bounced back immediately, informing me that the email address was no longer vaild. As a result I have cause to think that she has been claimed as a victim of the wave of dismissals and redundancies that is sweeping through the city. I write a few more one liners and get similar results from a few, others reply more positively. I am unsettled, and despite being in a place which it best positioned to weather the storm, the industry itself is fragile.

However, on to lighter events. This morning on my way into work I saw:
- a discarded mattress with an almost perfect coil of dog poo on it. Was it art?
- 2 Calvinist nuns running in Salvation army sweaters over their robes and their rosaries flying behind, wimpoles fluttering in the wind.
- a fat woman on a bicycle who had to get off and push her bike up the slope because she kept rolling back down.

I am heading out to the West coast of the States on Friday and will post some pictures of the ocean and the sunshine. Until then, apologies again for the lack of updates.

Quantum of Reality...

2008-10-31T13:48:00.003+01:00

So the new Bond film has attracted some criticism from the Communists of Leningrad. Probably the funniest thing I've read all week.

Friday video...

2008-10-17T10:14:00.001+02:00

This one is seriously cool, and shamelessly lifted from Fast Fingers at Brummie Blogs.

Have a good weekend all!

Liberté, not Ramsay...

2008-10-14T10:38:00.003+02:00

Edit: I've just re-read this and its a bit or a driveling mess but I'm going to leave it since it took me a while to get my jumbled thoughts into something that was at least coherent to me for a moment.

I started a post a few days ago on the current climate of the health of the global economy that I never finished. Many things contributed to me not finishing said post, mainly because I was so sick and tired of having to deal with issues at work arising from the chaos in the markets, and then watching it on TV at work, reading about it on the streaming tickers on my computer screens, seeing it in oversized fonts on the front of magazines, newspapers, and then when I got home it was on the news and on the radio. It was overwhelming to say the least. However, as the problem has been best described as a 'financial holocaust', central banks in the affected developed nations realised that throwing variable amounts of money at affected institutions as they popped up in a piecemeal approach was not going to shore up the economy. This coupled with the media whipping it further into a frenzy and driving ill informed investors into making rash decisions was almost turning the whole debacle into a self-fulfilling prophecy: stock prices go down, sell stocks to recoup loss, hold on to cash and don't invest = no liquidity in markets to drive economy. Rinse and repeat.

Anyway, the point is that over the weekend the Euro nations after seeing Iceland become what was almost certainly the first national casualty of said holocaust had to pull together and act in unity, not only for the sake of individual interests but also that of the shared currency. The UK stepped in with a tentative plan to take holdings in the banks, a bold move that should it work out, the initial investment made with taxpayers money could translate into tax breaks and cuts in the future once the banks start their recovery process and manage to pay out some semblance of a reasonable dividend to the shareholders, which ultimately the government would be a major player. This would also most certainly save Brown and Darling from an election defeat, but this would mean that the Brits will have to put up with another period of time with some dreadfully uncharismatic leaders. This plan followed a somewhat synchronised approach from Germany and France, even though only a few days previously the French Finance Minister Christine Lagarde had insisted that the French banks did not require any capital injection which was a defiant remark and brought to mind the Delacroix painting of Liberty leading the people. So, with the governments having to think through a proper approach and tackling the problem with a longer term solution in mind, the stock markets have rallied and for now I can take a breather.

***

In other news, OH insisted an embargo on all news over the weekend. That was a good move that pretty much allowed me to purge all the stress from my system. However, we started to discuss Christmas dinner and what we'd prepare, and that caused a bit of stress. The thing is, OH and I will occassionally have a bit of an altercation over silly things like the laundry or the rubbish, and its looking that Christmas dinner preparation will be added to the list. Mainly because I'm such a control freak in the kitchen, and that while OH is happy to let me have free rein in the culinary department, he also likes to have his two centimes worth when it comes to the menu. More often than not I disagree with his suggestions and tastes, mainly because I've already planned most of it in my head and dammit, any diversion from what's in my head is going to throw my military execution off course and I'd get flustered and we'd end up screaming at each other in front of his parents and that would not be a good thing to do. Oh no.

So, we've managed to agree a truce and meet somewhere in the middle. And he's going to be my sous chef again this year. We're learning to choreograph our moves in the kitchen and I'm learning to turn a blind eye to the manner in which OH is accustomed to doing things, otherwise I feel myself becoming a bit of a kitchen dictator. Or worse still, turning into an oriental version of a craggy faced Gordon *ç%&ing Ramsay.

Ahh...

2008-10-08T10:08:00.002+02:00

This reminded me of the rare occassion when the teacher would catch us passing round notes, but nothing we ever managed to pen quite matches this, and it made me go 'ahh'...

Chill...

2008-10-06T15:13:00.002+02:00

... in the air.

I've been slightly dejected by the fact that autumn has suddenly descended, and along with that the temperatures have plummeted into the low teens and even into single digits.

However, Saturday OH and I spent most of the day running around in Ingrid (our car) doing chores and grocery shopping in France. On the way back we decided to stop in an orchard and saw the beautiful brightly coloured apples hanging off the trees, and bought a whole load of different apples. So far, I've made juice and a strudel.

Then while we were standing in the orchard and took a deep breath of fresh air, the sun came out and when the clouds lifted, I saw the first snow on the tips of the mountains. Now I'm feeling all giddy about skiing now, but before that, we're going truffle hunting with a real life pig!

Pics on the apples and pigs to follow soon.

Customer Non-Service...

2008-09-23T16:18:00.003+02:00

I am trying to book a flight for a trip in November:

***

Dear ABC Customer,

Thank you for contacting ABC.

At this time, we provide tickets for flights originating in the United
States, Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, Canada, Mexico, Australia,
Austria, Belgium, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Hong Kong,
India, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Japan, The Netherlands, New Zealand,
Norway, Poland, Portugal, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Thailand, Turkey and the United Kingdom.

I understand that you want to make a booking using an XYZ card issued from Switzerland.

The following credit cards are accepted on the Orbitz website:

* Orbitz MasterCard, Visa, MasterCard, American Express, Diners Club, XYZ, Carte Blanche and Discover.

The credit card must:

- have a billing address and be issued by a bank or company in the
United States, Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, Canada, Mexico,
Belgium, France, Germany, Ireland, Italy, The Netherlands, Norway,
Spain, Sweden and the United Kingdom.

As an alternative, you may ask a friend or a relative to book your
reservation with their credit card as far as it meets the above
mentioned criteria.

***

What if I have NO FRIENDS or RELATIVES who live in any of these countries?

Go figure.

Dating 101...

2008-09-18T12:19:00.004+02:00

I've recently discovered craigslist, and it has been providing me with hours of amusement, especially the different dating requirements you can compare and contrast below, between gay men, and straight women. Behold:

***

(woman looking for men)

looking for my prince charming - 34

I want to be treated like a princess. over being used. i want a good hearted man who likes to have fun and who likes me for me. And knows how to treated a woman right.i like the outdoors like Fishing , motor sports. I espically like speedway love to go out to the pub or a nice restaurant.I dont like liars or cheaters and not into mind games . So if you are one of them dont bother me

Someone needs to see a therapist. Speedway love? I don't even want to know the euphemism there

***

(man for men)

London Hotel Monday Night, Bi Guy

Hi Guys

I am a good looking 35 year old english bi lad, in london for the night on monday looking for bi or married lads for fun.

I am 5ft 8, tanned good looking with a nice dick, pretty versatile. Will send pic on return. Lets organise something. American guys especially welcome.

See, no mind games here, or fishing. And he doens't mind being used. You don't have to fork out for a romantic dinner either.

***

(woman looking for men)

I am Pandora....

The darkness is death - we can speak, but we are not heard. We can scream but they turn their backs. We can run, but we cannot catch them. It is the dream where arms and legs won't work the way they should, and the air is too thick to breathe. Loved ones walk a mile ahead, forgetting to stop as we fall behind. This is the reality of the darkness. We are buried alive inside ourselves

She sounds terrifying. I wouldn't want to open her box.

***

(man for men)

Looking for guys with big nipples/into nip play - 27 (Central)

Post says it all. Looking for guys who like nipple play, stroking, licking ... mutual fun.

Also love guys with massive nips, the bigger the better. You can be any size or age as long as you have some nice tits to work on. Chub guys always seem to have the biggest nips and I love to work em.

The pics posted with this reminded me of the story of the Tinderbox , with each pic the nipples got bigger and bigger. From saucer-sized to hubcaps.

***

(woman looking for men)

Good Christian woman for a good Christian man

Christian men need only apply. I’m an attractive woman who’s looking for more than just a date. I’d love if I could find a respectable gentleman who knows how to have fun out with friends, but also enjoys staying home and having a romantic night in.

Her idea of fun sounds like reading the scriptures and playing Scrabble in Latin.

***

(man for men)

Wanna talk dirty?

Let's have an e-mail chat and get each other off using our words.

My stats:
American
white
19 y/o
5 feet 4 inches
140 lbs
blonde hair
blue eyes
small but thick cock

Maybe the Christian woman can teach him abstinence.

I ventured into the realms of online dating once, way before I met OH or even the few boyfriends before. Let me tell you something, 8 years ago online dating was almost Victorian in manner.

Or perhaps I was looking on the wrong websites...

Change...

2008-09-14T00:31:00.002+02:00

Remember the time in school when you decided you didn't like your best friend that you swore to be friends until death the week before because you found another friend who had more cool toys and whose mother let you drink Cola when your mother told you 'Cola' was a bad word? You thought they'd changed.

Remember the friends at school when you signed the autograph/promise/deep secret books and you wrote in the margin 'FRIENDSHIP NEVER ENDS' but then a month after leaving school you realise what twats the were? You thought they'd changed.

Remember the friends at uni when you had long nights discussing the meanings of life and love and how bastards had done you over, then at graduation you tearfully exchanged promises to keep in touch forever since you'd gone to uni and experienced 'growing up' together, then 3 months later you find out that so and so who was you best friend then slagged you off behind your back constantly? You thought they'd changed.

Remember the mmajority of friends you met at work, and you felt close to them and then circumstances dictate otherwise and you lose touch and you feel that they're not close anymore because you felt they'd changed.

And then there is the moment of clarity where you realise that with everyone busily changing around you and you judging how different they are, you neglect to realise the main thing:

You have changed too.

Sugababes - Change [XVID]
par wonderful-life1989

Merry Chr.... erm...

2008-09-05T12:01:00.002+02:00

OH often jokes to people that I have the attention span of a gnat and I'm prone to the power of suggestion. He often demonstrates this by mentioning a certain type of food which will then have me obsessing over wanting to eat the aforementioned for a number of day, or until I find something else to sate my hunger.

Of course I always rise above it and deny it simply.

Until today.

I normally chat to Stornisse online during the day, and today whilst I was chatting to him I was flipping though the newspaper and saw an article on how Christmas ornaments were already on sale. So my mind started racing and before I could stop myself I was trawling through pages of Christmas ornaments and decorations, trying to decide what colour scheme OH and I should have for our first proper grown up apartment together, until I clicked on a particular page.

Which reminded me that HALLOWEEN was only 56 days away.

Then I realised perhaps I am prone to suggestions after all.

Orange, Arancia, No...

2008-08-29T09:57:00.002+02:00

Somehow this commercial beggars belief. The scantily clag animals and the buff bear type, coupled with suggestive pelvic thrusts and animal NUDITY is all a bit much for me...

I think we're already dead...

2008-08-28T13:38:00.001+02:00

I was laughing so much...

2008-08-18T15:11:00.003+02:00

When I checked out this site today. Trust me, you won't regret it at all. And yes, that is a cake made to look like a bottle of washing up liquid. I should perhaps get one made for OH, lemon sponge flavour just so he understands that as much as I love him I'd appreciate it if he did the dishes more frequently. Actually, I'd have one made in the shape of Toilet Duck instead...*

*Actually we have a cleaner so its a joke, but that cake is real.

Ash...

2008-08-17T01:05:00.003+02:00

When you realise your mouth tastes like the rancid water that is rinsed from a Guiness soaked ashtray being left out in the sun too long, its time to stop.

Polyamoury?

2008-08-15T15:37:00.003+02:00

I have yet to get myself fully back into gear and as a result over the next few days this is will form another list of random thoughts as they manifest themselves and I try to get them down, and hopefully be coherent in the process:

Polyamoury/polyamouressness(?)
I mostly go through blogs when on the internet, reading about other peoples passions and habits, and what they get up to and their respective opinions on a wide range of matters. In a way its my equivalent of living life vicariously through others while I'm at my desk job. More often than not, I'll be focussed on a blog, brow furrowed and nodding along in agreement to a well written piece, or skipping through some of the naughtier blogs with a slight embarassment that I may be caught reading inappropriate material, but somehow flushed with a perverse excitement that somehow the work system did not filter that one so it can't be that bad. Let me tell you something though, there is a lot of filth and depravity in some very benign looking pages.

So, today I'm doing the same thing and I happen across a blog written by a polyamourous man. I first came across the concept of polyamoury through a friend of a friend, at a party. I thought the person that caught my eye was gay, and thought that a bit of flirty banter would do my ego good, besides, OH was in the room and he'd reap the benefits of my ardour later when we got back later on. I discreetly enquired of my new friend of the evening, Lady Wolf, and she peered at me over her glasses and winked at me saying 'oh, he's got a girlfriend, but he's polyamourous'.

Polyamourous? What's that then? I pushed my new friend. I think by this time too many gin and tonics and beers had worked its way into our systems so while she was trying to describe an aspect of it, along with the rules and roles, I was too caught up trying to understand the emotional control and discipline one would have to employ in engaging in this game. It transpired that later on I managed to get a clearer idea along with a proper explanation of the whole rigmarole, but let me tell you something else, its not for everyone.

Thinking about this in greater detail, it reminds me of a conversation I've had with OH, and with previous exes. Namely that of the difference of open relationship and cheating. We all have our views on this topic, and as a gay man there are even more opinions given the testosterone and torrid feelings we experience when someone other than your significant other arouses desire within you. How would a gay couple view polyamoury? Its certainly very 'having your cake (or should that be cock?) and eating (sucking?) it', but I think that despte all the glitz and glamour that some people perceive in the (gag) 'Gay World' and behind the fabulous-dinner-party façade, the cultured night-at-the-opera front, the deep-and-thoughtful prose on the shelves, we are inherently simple creatures, simply wanting love and devotion. More bluntly, love and devotion from one person and one person only. Perhaps I'm being wildly naïve here, but that is the drift I get from many of my friends, the happy ending, the wanting to find Mr. Right, Knight in Shining Armani etc. I don't think polyamoury would, or could work being gay.

In my view it would be called cheating. And as much as we like the thrill of the unknown, of someone different, emotionally most gay men I know are fragile wrecks, having to deal with coming out to themselves and then to the world, and cannot entertain the notion of their Mr. Right, or Mr. Right Now, being callous enough to segment their emotions into a seperate compartment for someone else. That is why there are rules in open relationships, but while trust is a large element in every relationship, having an open relationship calls for an even larger amount of trust, namely that with the physical act of sex it ends there, and no emotions are invested in the person, hence, the one-night-stand would be okay if its not talked about, but seeing the same person on an ongoing basis for sexual gratification is not. OH and I are not in any way in an open relationship, and despite the initial indifference I threw at him in the beginning of the relationship, we have subsequently talked about it and over a beer in Bangkok (yes, the irony isn't lost) we have admitted that although we trust each other implicitly, the guilt would just be too much to bear.

Okay, U-turn, I think that the point that I was trying to make to myself is mainly that perhaps my emotionally retarted, fuckwit of an ex was unknowingly polyamourous. Certainly viewing his behaviour with 20/20 hindsight would attribute a lot of his actions, and even more so now hearing through others and viewed from afar.

But I think I'll stick with the fact that he's just a c*nt.

Wistful moments...

2008-08-14T09:03:00.002+02:00

In yesterday's meme, #27 reminded me of a song that I love but do not have. This is it below.

I remember first hearing it in my failed first year at uni (that's a long story but I dropped out and went back 3 years later) through a guy called T. Deadly sexy in that 'I don't give a shit about most things', tormented and bohemian, I fell in love with him, hook line and sinker. Although I was told repeatedly that he could never make the relationship work, I gritted my teeth and lied barefaced that I didn't care. 8 years on, the memory of him kissing me remains and I am still in love with him, but it is a romantic notion I entertain, rather than a reality I seek.

i hope this song moves you as much as it does me.

Finish the sentence...

2008-08-13T14:08:00.002+02:00

Shamelessly lifted from Troubled Diva (my new fave blog read).

He's got fab answers to these, but its a fun exercise and it fills the time rather than me being bored at work, and it gives you lovely people an insight to my psyche/madness/humdrum existence (delete as appropriate).

1. My uncle once: told me my grandparents couldn't understand the concept of people being gay. To them gay was being camp and effeminite and wanting to dress up in women's clothes.

2. Never in my life: have I regretted leaving my well paid job to go back to university.

3. When I was five: I moved to the Far East with my parents and stayed there for 12 years.

4. High school was: spent agonising over why the Head Boy didn't feel for me the same as I did for him, or if I should pretend that I liked girls.

5. I will never forget: the look OH gave me when I said that caviar and buttered toast reminded me of my childhood.

6. Once I met: a fashion designer that I then slept with. I came back to London and told everyone about it but they just smiled and nodded thinking the story to be false. Two weeks later everything that I'd learnt was published in a magazine interview and I had a nice time being smug to my friends.

7. There’s this girl I know: who jumped into a pool then panicked because she later couldn't find the tampon she had on.

8. Once, at a bar: I got off with a hot guy that turned out to be a girl.

9. By noon, I’m usually: thinking about what to cook for dinner, or who I'm meeting for a drink after work.

10. Last night: OH was away in Paris and it was raining heavily so I went home, had a few beers then watched a movie and had some dinner then bed. I still got to bed way later than what I'd promised myself.

11. If only I had: rebelled and insisted on learning to drive when I was younger I wouldn't have to take the sodding driving tests now at age 28.

12. Next time I go to church: will be in September to show my friend who's visiting around the town.

13. What worries me most: is being made to look incompetent at work.

14. When I turn my head left I see: the hallway that links my office to my bosses office. Sometimes the toilet door is left open and because the door is mirrored, I see myself instead.

15. When I turn my head right I see: a pigeon looking at me through the window.

16. You know I’m lying when: the stories are inconsistent.

17. What I miss most about the Eighties is: being less than double digits and I only had to worry about homework.

18. If I were a character in Shakespeare I’d be: Sir Toby Belch, cousin to Olivia in Twelfth Night. Because he's a drunkard and I'd like to be a knight. But most of all I just like the name.

19. By this time next year: I hope the apartment will be fully furnished and I won't have to buy any more main pieces.

20. A better name for me would be: Gin Martini- strong, packs a punch, yet exquisitely louche.

21. I have a hard time understanding: why politicians exist.

22. If I ever go back to school, I’ll: make sure I try and be more sporty so I'd have a better physique.

23. You know I like you if: I invite you over to dinner chez nous.

24. If I ever won an award, the first person I would thank would be: the person who was most active in supporting me for the award.

25. Take my advice, never: snort ecstasy, or ProPlus, or start smoking just to look cool. The first two gives you a nosebleed and the latter stains your teeth.

26. My ideal breakfast is: fried eggs, sunny side up, followed by scrambled eggs, then eggs Benedict.

27. A song I love but do not have is: Mr BoJangles as sung by Nina Simone.

28. If you visit my hometown, I suggest you: are careful when you took your wallet out on the streets.

29. Why won’t people: email me back immediately after I've emailed them?

30. If you spend a night at my house: you'll have a selection of random travel-sized toiletries with your towel, depending on where we've been on holiday.

31. I’d stop my wedding for: a fag break. Or a multibillion dollar deal that's in my interest.

32. The world could do without: hypocrisy. Or time.

33. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: eat liver.

34. My favourite blonde(s) is/are: Mrs. CPS from Mayfair and Gwen Stefani.

35. Paper clips are more useful than: melon scented handcream.

36. If I do anything well it’s: likely to result in an empty plate.

37. I can’t help but: wonder at the trajectory at which my career progression is taking, or should take.

38. I usually cry: at the end of Philadelphia, Priscilla or at intense movies. Or when I look at my bank balance before payday.

39. My advice to my child/nephew/niece: is to take your time, but focus on what you want to do and not to let others bully you into a career you're unsure about.

40. And by the way: I need to remember to collect my Breitling and drop the Tag off for the batteries to be replaced.

I'm tagging: Stornisse and Fastfingers, just beacuse they're the only people who I know who read this drivel.

Picture perfect...

2008-08-07T09:49:00.005+02:00

As promised, some holiday snaps take with my new toy:

Isn't it just the sexiest little camera? And its RED. I've decided that all my portable electronics will be RED from now on.

Okay, on to the pictures...

Amazing temple of Borobudur, Central Java.

Golden Mound, Grand Palace, Bangkok

Impressive columns, Grand Palace, Bangkok

Sunset on the Chaophraya river, Bangkok

Stone bell jars in Borobudur that house enlightened Buddhas, Central Java

An active volcano, Central Java

Iguana at the bird market, Yogyakarta

Rabbits at the Bird Market, WTF? Where are the birds? (Yogyakarta)

Tamansari Water Palace, Yogyakarta

Tai-tai time! Fish spa relaxation where these fish native to the Middle East nibble away at the dead skin on your legs so you leave with baby soft feet. Its all the rage with rich housewives- Kuala Lumpur.

Sawadee... Crap

2008-08-04T14:36:00.002+02:00

Hello you wonderful Simian-reading denizens. I'm back from the 17 days of non stop travel, intense humidity and choking smog that covered, Kuala Lumpur (Malaysia), Jakarta, Bandung and Yogyakarta (Indonesia), Bandar Seri Begawan (Brunei) and Bangkok (Thailand). A quick list of notable things before I write more:

- Stuffed myself on hotel buffet breakfasts every day with the self-delusional fact that 'eating well at breakfast will stave off hunger pangs for the rest of the day and one will stay slim on holiday', and still managed to have 5 square meals after breakfast.

- Had a dynamic shift in waist sizes in one day, from 31" at Dockers, to 34" at Replay and 28" from some unknown brand at a Factory Outlet Store.

- 2 massages, both which required me to don my birthday suit, and to turn over half-way which made me very conscious when the masseurs were massaging my upper thigh.

- Went to 2 Japanese buffets and ate 50 sumo wrestlers worth of sashimi and tempura.

- Woke up to the realisation that when trinkets as souvenirs fail to grab your attention, and you're more interested in the antique hat stand with mother-of-pearl inlay that one is inevitably older and hopefully wiser from not buying ornamental tat to fill up the shelves. Although I still managed to spend over 5 million rupiah on tribal baskets and a bircages in Indonesia and over 12k baht in Thailand on silk.

- Started out as a trip to pick up a t-shirt for OH since he hadn't brought many clothes along. 7 hours later we were sat in a bar having cocktails and bemoaning the fact we'd missed the Grand Palace in Bangkok again, for the 4th day running.

- When we finally made it to the Grand Palace into the Temple of the Emerald Buddha (jade, really) there was an almightly 'SPLAT' and OH turned to tell me how lucky it was that he'd just managed to avoid being shat on by a holy bird in the temple rafters, then noticing that I'd been covered all down one sleeve.

Holy shit indeed.

Uninspired...

2008-07-09T09:54:00.003+02:00

Its been a while since I last posted something with real content, looking back at previous posts, its just been a poor copy and paste effort, either of pictures or just some random videos. To be honest, it feels as if I'm not quite here.

My second sister was here for a few weeks, and in between we spent a lovely weekend in Turin, as well as went to a lovely wedding. Work's been good but slowly winding down to the summer hols, and I leave next week for a 17 day jaunt in the Far East, seeing family and having a well deserved break in Bangkok with OH at the end of it.

I've been burnt out. Now that everything is in order, both job-wise and apartment-wise, I've been able to take a step back and realise how mad everything has been over the last few months, if not years. Back in London, I was juggling the struggle of work, a social life, and a stressful time in my old apartment, before I finally left and moved in with Big Dave for 6 months before I managed to secure my own flat. Once I'd moved into my own place, everything at work blew up and I got offered a position in Geneva. Cue, another move.

Anyway, I'm looking at some of the unfinished posts on my blog, and I'll tidy some of them up and post them later. In the meantime, I'm sorry that like summertime TV, my posts will be some old rehashed writings, or some random holiday snaps. I will however, promise to post some anecdotes while I'm away.

So, apologies once again.

Friday Choon...

2008-06-27T10:26:00.002+02:00

Brillian spoof lyrics for this dire, dire song.

"Retouch my body"

Sorry for the lack of updates recently, but I'll be back soon with more writings and pictures.

Meltdown...

2008-06-23T15:12:00.002+02:00

... in action.

Going from moaning about the lack of sun, the weather forecast now seems to be determined to stay sunny and I will surely die of heat exhaustion.

Nice but Dim...

2008-06-16T10:02:00.002+02:00

Yesterday I was heading to Shoreditch House to have lunch with some friends. At the reception desk the lady who was manning it looked up and gave me a smile.

Marmoset: 'Hi I'm here to see Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so.'
Lady: 'Oh yes, they have Marmoset, and Miss XX down for lunch. Which one are you?'
Marmoset: ???

Later on up in the restaurant.

Mrs So-and-so: 'Can we have a jug of tap water please?'
Waitress: 'Would you like still or sparkling?'
Marmoset: ???

Dessert time.

Mr So-and-so: 'I'll have the Cheese plate please'
Waitress arrives 15 mins later with cheese CAKE.
Marmoset: ???

Nice weather for it...

2008-06-11T10:01:00.003+02:00

So, what do the Brits talk about when they are at a loss to talk about anything else? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, they talk about the weather.

This is in part because the meteorological conditions of the lovely British isles is as unpredicable as Naomi Campbell' attitude to staff. Okay, scrap that, at least its consistent that La Campbell will through a tantrum, but who the lucky recipient is going to be is unknown.

Okay, back to the topic in hand: the weather. Geneva is a bit of a microclime, but I've had consistently good reports that once June arrives the weather will be a blaze of sunshine and it would be all summery and I pictured jugs of Pimms on the balcony with strawberries and cream. Only, due to some frigging freak pressure fronts this is what I've been experiencing for the last 3 weeks with more to come:

I am throughly sick and quite frankly, fucking tired of all this rain.

How to...

2008-06-05T10:14:00.012+02:00

... make a coffee and walnut cake with cardamom coffee icing: A Masterclass

Yesterday I was feeling a bit low, so I decided to go for a run. Unfortunately the skies had opened and it was raining buckets so I baked a cake to cheer myself up instead, and to celebrate my being in Geneva for six months.

First, we pour a drink for the patissier. This is a Sauvignon Blanc from the vinyard we visited a couple of weeks ago.

Next, the ingredients (L to R): an espresso maker, caster sugar, walnuts, flour, butter, coffee, eggs. (not shown: baking powder, cardamom pods)

First we make the coffee. The bottom receptacle is filled with water and the coffee chamber popped on, then we put 2 heaped tablespoons of ground coffee into it. We then attach the coffee receptacle on top...

... and put it on the stove to boil and percolate.

Next, we weigh out 225g of sugar. You can see here that instead of going for plain while sugar I've weighed out a mixture in raw cane and demerarra sugar as well.

Cut up 225g of unsalted butter and put it into the mixing bowl.

Now attach it to the food mixer and turn it on to medium to cream the butter so it becomes fluffy...

... then you add the sugar...

... and combine fully...

... before adding the eggs in one by one. 4 eggs to be added in total.

Here I realise that I've been using the whisk attachment instead of the paddle, which is why the mixture has the consistency of wet sand rather that silky sheets.

You can see the consistency starting to look different now. I leave it on low to beat for a few minutes...

...while I sift 225g of flour and 1 tsp of baking powder.

Measure out 50cl of strong espresso that we have made earlier...

... and add it to the sugar/butter/egg mixture. NOTE: make sure you measure out the coffee earlier on in the process so it has time to cool. I forgot this and as I poured it in to the sugar/butter/egg mixture it started to curdle a bit as the eggs were scrambling. I panicked and...

... quickly added the flour and baking powder in. If you look closely at the side of the mixing bowl you can see that the mixture is slightly curdled.

We leave the mixture to blend for a while and we prepare the baking tin. Grease the bottom and sides of the tin thoroughly with some unsalted butter and preheat the oven to 190°c.

We return to the cake batter. See how it now looks silky and smooth? Phew, at least its not totally ruined. Add the walnuts.

Give it another blast...

... there, nicely incorporated.

Transfer to the greased pan...

... and smooth down the top with a spatula. Once the oven is ready, pop the cake into the furnace to bake for approximately 55-60 mins.

Lets take a step back and look at the kitchen where all the magic happens.

Now we prepare the cardamom coffee icing. Take 5 green cardamom pods.

Transfer to a pestle and mortar. Pound lightly so the pods split and remove the pod skins and leave the seeds in the bowl like this:

Smell the lovely bergamot oils emanating.

Grind the seeds into a fine powder.

My internal body clock tells me its time to take the cake out of the oven. The cake is done. You will know when you insert a toothpick/skewer in the middle of the cake and it comes out clean.

Place on a baking rack to cool.

Once cool, remove the outer ring if using a detachable pan like I am. Otherwise remove normally.

Okay, back to the icing. 125g of unsalted butter...

...beat until fluffy.

Add the ground cardamom...

... then the remainder of the strong espresso (50 ml, cooled, of course)

Add 200g icing sugar, and blend until smooth.

Once the cake is totally cool, using a serrated bread knife, employ your best kung-fu knife skills and slice the cake in half.

Spread a bit of the cardamom coffee icing on the bottom half...

... and pop the top half back on top. I was a bit ham-handed with this step and broke a bit of the cake. Oh well.

Use the rest of the icing to hide a multitude of sins.

Voilà!

Decorate with half walnuts...

... and complete the effect by scattering with chocolate drops.

Ta-dah! Fit for a sugar and caffeine addict. I had a slice and it was DELICOUS. OH had 2 slices.

Result: SUCCESS.

Attributed to Francois at FX Cuisine

Le Starh-Bahks...

2008-06-05T08:51:00.002+02:00

... en ma route.

This morning on my way in to work I was amazed to see the boulangerie that was derilict until last week has now transformed into a Starbucks. Generally I do not go to these establishments out of principle, albeit quite a benign stand on the establishment being that the coffee is substandard and the prices exorbitant. My French friends however have another view and was once engaged in a very heated argument with OH over the evils and how it was selling a warped lifestyle to the unsuspecting masses. However with the piss poor breakfast selection available to me (McDonalds is opposite the new Starbucks but isn't open for brekkie, and there's only so many croissants one can stomach)I decided to abandon the priciples and to pop in to see what was on offer.

Perhaps it was too early in the morning and the wafts of coffee-approximations had yet to ignite the neuronal firings, but it was extremely surreal. Having not been in one of these shops for a while, the layout was familiar, the menu comforting and the muffin selection bland. Everything was mostly in English, even the muffin names, but when it was my turn to order at the till, I automatically asked for a raspberry muffin in French. This is how is came out:

'Je prende un 'rahsp-beh-ree muh-feen' s'il vous plaît.'

Having asked for one, I did a quick double take to check that it was written as such on the cards and that I wasn't taking the piss. Check. The card stated 'raspberry muffin', and not 'muffin framboise'. I have since checked the dictionary and I can see that the translation of muffin, is indeed, muffin, but saying 'raspberry' in a French accent was all very 'Allo 'Allo.

And the guy behind the till?

Yep, his name was René.

Intermission

2008-06-03T15:19:00.002+02:00

Exams this Saturday. Normal service will resume shortly after.

Thank you for your patience.

How To...

2008-05-28T08:55:00.010+02:00

... make lamb kebabs - A Masterclass.

First we prepare the meat marinade. I used 2 lamb fillets with the fat trimmed off by the butcher.

These are the spices we will use (anticlockwise from left to right): 1 small stick cinammon, 1 tsp garam marsala, 1 tsp coriander seeds, 1 tsp cumin seeds, 1 juniper berry, 2 cardamom pods, 1 clove garlic, 1/2 tsp black peppercorns. Transfer to an ovenproof dish and roast in a hot oven (220°c for 5-7 mins)

While we wait for the spices to roast, we prepare the liquid bath for the meat. Add 2 tbsp olive oil.

Next add about 4 tbsp of pineapple juice. Pineapple juice contains enzymes that will tenderise the meat and act as a conduit for the spices to penetrate.

Then add the garam marsala. Sprinkle it over the lamb.

Take the spices out of the oven and transfer to a mortar and pestle, or if you are lazy, into an electric spice grinder.

Grind to a fine powder and add the warmed garlic...

... and pound to incorporate into the spices.

Add to the meat...

... along with 2 tbsp of soy sauce. Now cover with cling film and leave in the fridge for about 1 hour. Here I take a break and go for a run. You can fix yourself a drink and sit in the sun now.

[INTERVAL]

Back from my run, we now prepare the garnishes (from L to R): Romaine lettuce (or any lettuce really), cucumber, parsely, carrot, tomatoes (I am using cherry tomatoes as these are what I had in my fridge and they were getting a little squishy), onion, levant bread.

We prepare the salsa to go with the kebab first. Dice the tomatoes...

... then dice the onion and chop the parsley.

Assemble in a bowl and drizzle in some olive oil...

... followed by a lashing of Himalayan rose salt and some freshly ground pepper.

Mix thoroughly and cover and leave in the fridge. If you look closely there are some bits of salad onions that I had left over which I sliced in.

After 1-1.5 hours, take the meat out of the fridge. Scrunch up some kitchen towels, smooth out onto a plate, and drain the lamb fillets. Pat dry as we want to remove the pineapple juice as further marinading in the juice will cause the meat to disintergrate. Most of the ground spices will remain stuck to the meat.

Drizzle with some olive oil and salt with some sea salt. Return to the fridge.

Prepare the cucumber. Slice about 1/2" off the top and holding the small bit in one hand, scrape it back and forth the cut end. After about 10-15 seconds you will see a white froth developing. This is the bitterness from the cucumber being drawn out (or so my mother told me). Carry on for another 15 secs, then rinse off.

Grate. Prepare carrot in same manner, but omit the rubbing part.

Shred the lettuce, and transfer to a plate.

Now its time to cook the lamb. Take a griddle pan, or a frying pan, and heat on medium-high heat and drizzle about 1 tbsp of olive oil in the pan.

When the pan is hot, add the lamb and cook on each side for 3-4 minutes. Do not touch the meat at this stage even though it might be tempting. This will ensure an even cooking through as well as a proper searing that will help retain the juiciness. Have a sip of your drink instead.

Turn the meat over and cook for another 4 mins depending on your preference. The spice marinade will have formed a nice crust. Once cooked transfer to a plate and leave it to rest to 5 mins or so.

Slice the meat. Look at the pink juicy centre.

Assemble your kebab at the table on lightly warmed levant bread. I laid the garnish out in this order: Bread, lettuce on top, then cucumber and carrot. The meat went on next, with a generous helping of the tomato salsa. Finally, no kebab will be complete without some spicy garlic sauce. This was left over from the night before when we had fish tacos. The recipe for the garlic sauce is: 2 birds eye chillies, 2 cloves of garlic, juice of 1/2 lime, 1 tbsp mayonnaise, 4 tbsp natural yoghurt. Blend together and add a pinch of salt.

Enjoy your kebab messily (mine had bits of salsa and lettuce fall out in the eating process). Best had with a glass of light red wine like a Brouilly.

The Cooking...

2008-05-27T10:38:00.003+02:00

... shall commence.

I know that I have promised to put a few more cooking posts up, but with exam preparation under way and the weather having gone all humid and stormy, it seems to have slipped my mind and I only remember it after I see the finished product on the plate as I'm about to eat it. Also, I'm trying to achieve some balance in content as I don't want to end up writing a food blog solely (which I may be prone to, given the gourmand that I am) so I'll intersperse the food prep posts and perhaps do one a fortnight or one a month during busier times.

So far I've prepared a few dishes which are quite picture friendly (Okonomiyake, fish tacos) and now I've jolted my memory I'll post tonights dinner preparation over the next few days. I think we're meant to be having lamb kebabs tonight, made from scratch.

Watch this space.

Wine, Women...

2008-05-26T10:25:00.005+02:00

... and more wine.

This weekend just gone saw the vinyards of the region open to the public as they opened their cellars and bottles from the 2006/2007 vintage for sampling. The day started out threatening to rain, but after a lunchtime shower, the skies cleared and a very enjoyable day was had by all.

Gathering the troops from the station en route to the vinyard.

Vines from the new season (2007/2008)

This is a bunch of Sauvignon grapes that have yet to mature. These will most likely end up in a bottle and perhaps in my wine cellar.

Rolling fields with vines everywhere.

Hills in the distance, light as evening approaches.

Dramatic rays of sun poking through the clouds. Twilight approaches.

A Dark Cloud (Friday Choon)...

2008-05-23T09:36:00.003+02:00

... has descended upon my heart and nevermore shall it lift again.

Latvia has unfairly taken the rightful position of Switzerland's place in the Eurovision 2008 Song Contest. For that I will join Stornisse and vow never to go to Latvia.

Let's see Paolo one more time.

*swoon*

eurovision suisse 2008 Paolo Meneguzzi - Era Stupendo
par jief75

A Pretty Good Week...

2008-05-16T14:36:00.004+02:00

...overall.

1. Despite the crazy rigmarole required to collect and sign for a work parcel, I received another that was entirely unexpected which was a fabulous magnum of champagne. OH and I will be bathing in the stuff soon. Still no work parcel though. Oh well... Result: FREE CHAMPAGNE!

2. After the painful delay flying into London the last trip that resulted us being diverted to an airport nowhere close to our destination, OH trotted off to pay for an immensely expensive taxi ride, with the proviso that dinners and lunches for the duration we were in London were on me. I agreed, but also wrote a strongly worded email complaint to the carrier. After having forgotten all about it, I received an email today from the company apologising for the inconvenience caused, along with the full reimbursement. Dinners and lunches for the rest of the weekend are on OH. Result: FREE MEALS!

3. I am getting on very well with my boss. His partner is now eager to meet me after us having multiple conversations on the telephone. Result: FREE DRINK!

4. My pain-in-the-arse client has the limits of tolerance that my company is willing to take. As a result discussions have been had along the lines of 'understanding that we may not meet the service and dedication we may be able to offer, but throroughly understand should you wish to move to a different service provider'. Result: FREE OF STRESS!

5. OH and I have NOTHING planned this weekend, given the hectic schedule we are facing next week. Result: VEGETATING AND RELAXING.

Good Friday to all you lovely readers.

*doffs sun hat*

*bows*

*EXITS ROOM*

Midweek choon...

2008-05-14T10:45:00.001+02:00

... this is one of the best I've seen in a while. Very funny, and now you too can sing along with wild abandon in the knowledge that you know the lyrics.

How to...

2008-05-06T09:14:00.013+02:00

...make macarons: A Masterclass.

First, lets reveal the beast of a birthday present:

Method:

The ingredients (from left to right): dark chocolate, double cream, ground almonds, butter, icing sugar, caster sugar, eggs, red food colouring.

Background: pestle and mortar, 70's spice rack, stonebaked kitchen tiles.

Liquid refreshment for the pâtissier

Seperate the whites into a bowl...

... and reserve the yolks to make Hollandaise/Bearnaise sauce

Carefully measure the ground almonds and icing sugar

and sift together. The idea is to get a fine mixture but that meant I had to ground the almonds up and I couldn't be bothered so I abandoned this step half way through and dumped everything in au naturel but this shows up in the final product.

Whisk the eggwhites on medium, and gradually add the granulated sugar...

... until it forms soft peaks (the peaks will collapse gently when pulled)

Add some food colouring (nope, I didn't cut myself; and yes, I thought of the orginal unabridged Snow White story where her mother cuts her finger and 3 drops of blood fall into the snow)

Whisk the coloured egg whites until it forms stiff peaks. The peaks should now hold their shape when pulled.

Now add the ground almonds/icing sugar mixture, and fold in with deft movements. The air will escape and the end product should look like this:

and have the consistency of magma.

transfer mixture into pastry bag. (Note the coarse bits of the ground almonds)

Pipe onto a baking sheet with Swiss precision...

... then leave to air for about 1 hour so a skin forms on the macaron shells.

Bake in the oven for 10-12 mins at 160°c.

Meanwhile, we prepare the ganache. Break the dark chocolate into small pieces in a mixing bowl.

Transfer the double cream to a saucepan and gently bring to the boil.

Pour the hot cream onto the broken chocolate pieces and stir vigourously.

Then add a knob of softened butter and mix until fully incorporated.

See the glossy sheen this has now achieved? Leave to cool and set for 30 mins to an hour.

Remove the macaron shells from the oven (note the flecks of coarse ground almond)

Turn onto a cooling rack to cool before filling with the chocolate ganache.

I forgot to take pictures of the filling process (because I was now on Beer # 3), but I think you get the idea: fill pastry bag with chocolate ganache, pipe into one shell and sandwich with the other half. Chill in fridge and eat next day with gusto.

Verdict: Not Bad at all. Next time I will grind the almonds down to a finer consistency, and I will leave the egg whites out to age for a day or two as this reduces the water content and allows the macaron shell to retain a more chewy consistency. I would also add more colouring so the red/dark chocolate contrast is more striking, and I will definitely experiment with other flavour combinations. However, for a first attempt I hereby declare this a Success.

Picture perfect...

2008-05-05T16:03:00.003+02:00

...everything.

My birthday was last week and it turned out to be one of the best birthdays I've had for a long while. Apart from being hungover most of the day and wasting it alternating between the bedroom and the sofa and lounging for most of it, it was perfect because it was a holiday here so I didn't have to work.

Presents included a meat thermometer, a pestle and mortar, a fab gift voucher, some aftershave, and most perfectly, a Swiss Edition Kenwood Chef from OH.

Now, I am obsessed with the idea of making macarons, and tonight will be my first batch. Hopefully they will be picture perfect and the pictorial results to follow very soon...

And the weather...

2008-05-05T11:08:00.002+02:00

...this week is:

Apart from the glitch on Tuesday which will be a welcome interlude to clear out the pollen and dust from the air, the week is looking pretty good.

Time to top up on the tan...

Picture perfect...

2008-05-02T17:41:00.005+02:00

... finally I've found the blasted connection wire from the mammoth pile of ~~junk~~ paraphernalia that arrived a few weeks ago from London. Here's a few pics to keep you intruiged, and I'll post more when they've been loaded...

My walk to work through the park on a cold winters morning.

Really gay sparkly cupcakes.

Windows I see from my tram stop.

View of the lake and mountains from Montreux, the other side of Geneva.

Back to grey...

2008-04-28T10:51:00.004+02:00

... the weather that is.

After a brilliant weekend weatherwise, today has started out grey, not unlike my mood. Partially because I am feeling bloated after the weekend's excesses in food and booze comsumption (food descriptions below), but also because I'll have to take the blasted exam in June anyway because it would only make sense.

The long and short of it is that to defer my entry, I would have to formally withdraw from the June sitting. This also means that I do not get my exam fees transferred, but I will have to pay a discounted rate for Dec. Should I sit this exam and fail, I will have to resit it in Dec, at the same discounted rate, so either way I have to pay, ergo, I will have to sit this exam.

Friday night I went to a churrescaria which I've passed by a few times previously but have never been in. A churrescaria is a Brazillian grill, where they cook meat on skewers and slice portions onto your plate as they pass through. Miss Angola has been there a fair few times and suggested a while ago that we should try it out. Given that the last time I'd been to a good one was when I was in Brazil a few years ago, I was up for a couple of caiprinhas and as much rare grilled beef as I could consume. My favourite cut is the picanha, which is the top rump cut which is often divided up into other cuts at the butchers. Lightly seasoned and grilled, this is the closest to a perfect bit of meat that I could wish for (my favourite is a rare, oak smoked ribeye). I probably ate about half a kilo of picanha, along with some salt and garlic beef, rare grilled lamb, chicken with an accompaniment of various salads. It was really good, and I'll definitely be going back for more next time.

Saturday I had Miss Angola and friend over for lunch. We had a light salad with cherry tomatoes, boiled new potatoes and marinaded artichoke hearts with some fresh sourdough bread from the local market square 5 mins from where I live. (I will be taking photos and posting them at some point very soon, given that I now know where to buy an adaptor cable for my digital camera to the PC). After that, since it was a beautiful day we grabbed a couple of bottles of wine and sat in the sun sipping our drinks and feeling totally relaxed. Later that evening there were a number of events going on, but I decided to take the opportunity of OH being away and totally pampering myself at home. I have a long leisurely bath and listened to some music that Stornisse had sent over. After that I watched a dreadful movie (Perfume) and it was in French rather than the original English version which meant I lost a bit in translation. I also had a large portion of Thai green curry which my friend Therese had cooked up under my supervision on Thursday, and was happily tucked in bed asleep by 11.30pm.

Sunday again was another lazy day. Up and some breakfast: fresh coffee, scrambled eggs and an apple turnover with a mango and lime smoothie. I love fresh coffee, and always make it in an Italian espresso maker. Because its one of those cumbersome contraptions that has various bits that need to be fitted together before its put on the stove, I very rarely bother apart from the occassional times when OH and I sit down to a leisurely breakfast on the weekends. Given that OH's plane in was delayed, I put some music (funnily enough I had a few Lyttleton tracks on...) and read the papers (...then discovered Lyttleton had passed away. RIP) while having a relaxing breakfast. A while later, OH got back and hopped in the shower while I made some tea as a friend who was in the neighbourhood popped in to say hello. We had some cheesecake which I'd baked a few days previously. The day finished off with sweet and sour chicken from a recipe I tried out, and it was delicious with some steamed rice and stir fried vegetables. OH commented that I could have improved the recipe with Sharwoods Sweet and Sour Sauce. I stamped on his foot under the table.

This week is looking pretty mixed. I'm (half) celebrating my birthday on Weds evening but its going to be study all the way until then. The main event of the week is when OH and I are out to celebrate our 3 year Tolerance Period (aka anniversary) on Saturday. I've booked a table at a supposedly fantastic restaurant, and with 8 courses on the deluxe degustation menu, you can be sure to find a post with pictures and drooling descriptions.

Unless it turns out to be a disaster, just like last year.

I promise to post that story soon...

Friday Choon...

2008-04-25T09:34:00.002+02:00

... via Stornisse.

Stornisse sent me a USB with lots of music at my request, and on it was this gem. This is a orchestral version of Alma Llanera, and judging by the matching shell suits worn by the musicians I think there is a back story to this. I think it was the conductor who got the kids out of Venezuelan shanty towns and then taught them how to play various instruments and then formed the Venezuelan Philharmonic Orchestra, or something along those lines. I'd welcome the correction.

Have a good weekend! Its sunny here and at 19° the terraces are beckoning after work with some rays and a cold beer!

Alma Llanera
par Danidescalza

Blah blah blah...

2008-04-24T11:48:00.002+02:00

... or not in the mood.

Normally I take something that has happened, or something that I realise in the course of everyday life and blog about it, often with a ham-handed segue into or off the topic discussed and end with an attempt to be humourous. This week I can't be bothered, so I'm just going to type what's on my mind and what's happened.

***

Last Friday I had a bit of a meltdown and started panicking about the exams that I have coming up in June. Apart from having received my books late, and the amount of detail I am required to know for this exam, I have been suffering from apathy and the thought that I have plenty of time to cover the material before the big day. I now realise that this isn't the case, and that I will surely fail this exam unless I (a) go into hermit mode and do nothing but study; (b) defer my entry to Dec 08 and really up the ante and make sure by November I can rattle everything off by heart; or (c) sit the exam and fail anyway, but at least I know what I'm supposed to face at the end of the year when I resit it.

(a) is unlikely to happen since I have to work, and staying in 3 days in a row is enough to drive me crazy. Coupled with the fact that my boss is out for the next 10 days and I have to be in work early as well with a non-lunch break to cover the phones, it is not going to happen. I have already looked into (b) and made enquiries over deferring. I may have to pay the enrollment fee again, but I guess that its not that much. (c) is the most likely and sensible option. Given that I know I'm not going to pass first time around I might as well have a look and sit the conditions before raising my game and doing it properly in Dec.

***

Miss T from Oz has finally neared the end of her visa application. Hopefully in a fortnight we will be looking online together in real time and I will be a bundle of excitement while she books her one-way ticket back to London. Its been far too long and I miss her lots.

***

My sister is semi involved with a tennis coach. I have no problem with this apart from the fact that she has low self esteem and is already tremendously infatuated with him. They live in different countries, which should they have a relationship I would totally support, knowing the difficulties of a long-distance relationship having spent 18 months jetting back and forth between London and Geneva to make sure that OH and I are right for each other. In the end it payed off and I am glad that we invested the time and money to make it work because we work so well together. My qualms about this guy is that he is almost my age (27) and my sister has just turned 18. I find that a bit creepy and I am not sure how to approach the subject without her feeling that I am trying to interfere.

Furthermore, they are already talking about 'love' given they've only met twice. I am not too comfortable about this.

***

I have given up the mantle of hausfrau and I have instructed OH that he can deal with the issue of cleaners. Having interviewed an agency the other day, that would be my preference despite it costing slightly more. The agency has insurance cover as well as 2 people operating on a professional level. The independent cleaner will start this Saturday and we have decided that she has a 6 week trial period. If after this it is not working out, OH has the task of telling her that.

***

It's my birthday in a week. I was all up for a little party and getting a little hammered, but now I'm not so keen and feeling a bit blasé about it. I've even had trouble telling OH what I want this year, since there really isn't much I can ask for (apart from the Kenwood Multichef and a variety of obscure cookbooks and paraphernalia). I am however looking forward to the 8 course meal that OH and I are having on the 3rd to celebrate our anniversary. We will have been together 3 years, and this meal should hopefully make up for the absolute disaster that we had last year.

***

As I have mentioned my boss is away for 10 days leaving me in charge. It will either be manic or calm, depending how things go. The saving grace is that its a 4 day week next week by virtue of the 1st of May being a holiday (my birthday, ehem...) The drawback is that everyone normally takes the Friday off and has a long weekend. I will be working. However, there is another Bank Holiday on the 12th of May which I am excited about, and I desperately want to go away somewhere for a break.

***

I am on another diet. I need to lose some weight and tone up before I see my mother in July. Otherwise I can already hear her dulcet tones lamenting the fact that I am not making the most of my youth to be toned and fit. On the other hand, I might just not bother and tell her very kindly to shut up and have more botox done so she can't move her mouth to criticise.

Okay, I was being well harsh on the last bit, and I'm too vain to want to look like a walrus on the beach so I will have to lose some weight for my own benefit.

***

Sorry for lack of funny this week. I've had lots of inspired posts, but then I got to the point where I just couldn't be arsed.

Friday Choon...

2008-04-18T09:26:00.002+02:00

I don't normally subscribe to the hip-hop/R&B genre (or whatever this fits into) but after hearing it from a friends iShuffle I'm actually quite hooked on this tune. Not the dramatics in the video mind you, I get pissed off when they make music videos into short films and interrupt the flow of music.

GAAH.

Thank fuck its Friday. Its been an incredibly long week. Have a great weekend!

Wyclef Jean feat Akon & Lil Wayne - Sweetest Girl
par Yannicklord

Working 9 to 5...

2008-04-17T13:46:00.003+02:00

...or more like 7am to 2am as the case may be for OH.

In the last few months OH has seen an influx of work. This has resulted him going from one project to another, with hardly a moment in between to sit down and have a cup of ~~fondue~~ tea and a palmier. As a result with my 8 to 6 hours I have had a lot more time than he has, and accordingly have taken up the mantle of hausfrau (Actually I've always been more of the hausfrau given my tendency to neuroticism in wanting things done just the way I like them, but that's another discussion).

So, with crunch time at work due to start now and me pulling longer hours than normal, I got home a few days ago to prepare for a casual evening in with some friends coming over for a preliminary wine and cheese session before the main event on Saturday. As I got changed, I threw my shirt and vest to the floor onto what constituted the pile of whites and then realised in horror that I hadn't done any of the laundry I was supposed to do, and as a result we were about 6 days behind. This would normally not be a problem, but it meant that I was now out of undershirts and I only had 4 shirts left until the weekend. (These are the shirts that you buy on a whim, and wear them once and decide that they will be back-up shirts since there is something minutely wrong with them but you can't pinpoint at that moment.)

At that moment I decided as per the earlier post on getting a cleaner, something had to be done then and there. 4 phonecalls later I had appointments for 2 different cleaners to come round and be interviewed for the position of cleaner/housekeeper. So far I have interviewed one cleaner that has come on recommendation from a friend, but have my reservations about her.

I may be unfair in judging a book by its cover, but I have a feeling that although it will start off well, this lady might prove to be problematic in the future. Little things like her saying that she'll do 'special things' like 'clean the windows' and 'polish the floors' only when we are away on holiday has already elicited a raised eyebrow from me. The other thing is when I mentioned that I would only require her fortnightly for 4-5 hours to do a thorough clean and the ironing, she came back saying that she required weekly work, and not fortnightly. So far I have struck a bargain with her, that she should come once a week but for 2.5 hours instead.

The thing is, I have been introduced to this potential cleaner through a friend, and because of the sob story she has told me (being let go from a contract because the family that she currently covers 5 hours per week for is being transfered to the US) I feel bad in being cold and turning her away at the door with a 'Don't call me, I'll call you' exchange. As a result I have agreed for her to come for a trial run next Saturday. I really am a big softie at heart.

In the meantime I will fret and wring my hands in despair over the knowledge that I may be getting myself worked up into a state over something that may be unnecessary. I also have to interview another cleaner on Monday coming, and will give them a trial run as well. The problem is, how long do I leave the place between trial cleanings? Its already been 3 weeks since we last donned some Marigolds and taken a vaccuum cleaner to the nooks and crannies, and while it is not a tip, I may be unfairly influenced by the amount of dust that will be cleared in the most immediate cleaning.

So, having had this post turn into a bit of a directionless rant about my inability to say no/sack a cleaner, I am tempted to pick up the phone and speak to my mother. However I am terrified that she will berate me for not having trained me as a true tai-tai and to have learnt from her how to dismiss staff with a sideways glance and flick of her freshly manicured talons.

I will update on this, but in the meantime I need to practise my stare for Housekeeping 201...

Things that interest me...

2008-04-15T15:54:00.004+02:00

... are plentiful, but over the years I have come to realise that a true passion of mine is food.

Now for those who know me, you may wrinkle your nose and point out that this has always been the case. However, I now realise that I am more discerning and picky with my food, and its now definitely more a case of quality rather than quantity, although sometimes I wouldn't say no to the quantity.

Having been in Switzerland for nearly 5 months now (and plenty of trips into France), I miss Asian and Oriental food. Given that the UN is a feature of this city with good representations from all countries, I am surprised at the generally piss poor execution of the food at Chinese and Japanese establishments here. Okay, I'm not asking for Nobu or Hakkasan quality food in every outlet, but for a decent price I would seriously give an arm and perhaps even a leg for some proper fried rice and a good bit of roast duck that is still moist and juicy, and not roasted until dry as jerky before attempting to rehydrate it in oyster and ginger flavoured sauce a la confit. Even sushi: I'd give up part of my Japanese heritage and maybe even the entire drinks cabinet for a good bit of chicken katsu and some well made sushi. All for a decent price. Its not even for want for lack of ingredients since it is all available; it is not that I crave the Anglosized versions of these cuisines; it is just bad execution at very high prices (a portion of crap fried rice is about $20, or £10, and the portions are 3/5 of a normal takeaway box).

The problem is probably down to have been spoilt. While London is not a fun place should one find that their budget is enough to cover 2 rolls of toilet paper and a packet of fags until the end of the month, it is by no means a difficult place to find some decently priced, fantastic cuisine, albeit attainable with a bit of patience and some travel. For example, the good value dim sum in Chinatown, the gaggle of Vietnamese places out of Shoreditch, the place at the end of Brick Lane next to the Royal London Hospital, the Royal Oak pub in Borough, the slap up breakfast outside the Porchester Baths, the fantastic kebab in Little Iraq on the Edgware Road. These are things that make me miss London when Other Half and I contemplate another pizza or pasta dish when we are late home and too tired to cook.

Anyway, back to the point about my interest in food.

Since the selections for cuisine here are somewhat limited, I have decided to experiment more at home with various cooking techniques and cuisines. While I've always been reasonably good at executing dishes, they've always been rather same-y. Roasts, pasta sauces, stir fries and curries are my main forte. While the ingredients change and the flavours vary, its pretty much the same thing on rotation.

That decision has mainly been influenced by the fact that OH and I now have our own place and not a lot else to do in the evenings. While not huge in its layout, the kitchen has the virtue of being a more-or-less separate unit from the rest of the apartment. Coupled with the fact that its just the both of us, I have commandeered the spatula and the sink, and love wielding my chopping knives without fear of decapitating OH (he can be found on the sofa on the laptop or watching current affairs) or someone barging in demanding to know when I'd be done using the oven. It is a wonderful feeling, being the Head Chef in your own kitchen, even if it is only in churning out experimental dishes which OH acts as guinea pig and makes suitable noises of appreciation or otherwise. Also, I'm starting to collect bits of kitchen paraphernalia which I've always thought quite bourgoise in having, but now I own it I tend to use it lots (although so far its only the coctail shaker and the walnut citrus juicer).

So, as soon as I find my camera cable which seems to have disappeared in the move, I shall start posting random pictures of meals I have prepared. I might even take a leaf out of Parshan Warsi's book (she who owns the Indian takeaway empire in the UK and supplies supermarkets with their own brand ready meals) and start a sideline in making spring rolls to sell through the local supermarket.

As soon as I finish up on this economics section on supply and demand...

Friday Choon...

2008-04-11T10:54:00.002+02:00

A bit mainstream, this one, but its so good. And I like the cello, and the cellist...

Timbaland - Apologize
par Timbaland

Have a good weekend y'all. Going to be in London for the bi-monthly haircut and dim sum event...

Passive/Aggressive

2008-04-09T09:50:00.002+02:00

Eg1:

Me: *sigh*
OH: What’s wrong?
Me: Nothing, nothing. *sigh louder*
OH: TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG.
Me: Well, I don’t want to sound like a nag, but could you please not leave your jumpers on the floor?
OH: Why?
Me: Well, I picked one up earlier and it had lots of down fluff stuck to it. I think it came from under the bed.
OH: Thank you, it doesn’t matter though
Me: Well, I’m sure it doesn’t matter but I know dust mites can gather and I don’t want you to have your eczema aggravated.
OH: Sorry dear, I’ll pick it up next time.

Eg2:

Me: *sigh* *TUT TUT*
OH: What have I done now?
Me: Nothing, its nothing. *storms out of room*
OH: What??
Me: Well, you know how I said to separate the wash?
OH: Yes…?
Me: Well you didn’t separate the wash and there was a black sock in the white wash.
OH: And…?
Me: (losing temper now) Well it might have stained the whole load, that’s what. I mean can’t you pay just a little attention to the tasks that you have to do???
OH: ???
Me: (goes on) You do't understand. It might just be 'one sock' to you but what if the sock was red? What if the sock colour RAN in a WHITE wash???
OH: Calm down dear, its only a sock. Besides, do you wear red socks?
Me: (almost bursting a vein) That is NOT THE POINT, *splutter splutter* THE POINT IS...
OH: Calm down. Now look, we’ll get a cleaner to sort this out.
Me: Oh... [small voice] And to sort out the ironing... (happy now we’re getting a cleaner so we don’t have to deal with this anymore)

Parodies...

2008-04-09T08:54:00.002+02:00

This is one of the funniest things that was sent to me. I may be a bit behind on this but its still a great laugh. Watch clip 1, then clip 2 in that order.

Clip 1

Clip 2

There's more on YouTube.com

Enjoy...

End of Week Choon...

2008-04-04T09:19:00.001+02:00

... an oldie but a goodie. Puts me in a nice relaxing mood for the weekend.

Have a good one y'all!

Massive Attack - Teardrop
par blackcandy

A Letter...

2008-03-28T09:33:00.003+01:00

Dear XXX

It has been a while since we last spoke, and the way we left things has been uncomfortable. For a while now there have been many unsaid things between us, but for me, at least, the time to say these things has passed and I no longer wish to raise them again.

How does one write a letter severing a past relationship? For me it will be the end, because I cannot carry on playing charades anymore. I may see you out and about, and if you approach me I will acknowledge you, but I never want to engage with you again. The Americans have a jarring word: closure; this word used to make me cringe, but now I have attained it to the best of my ability, I am cherishing the protection it offers.

As it is, we have moved on in life. You still chase fame and fortune and indulge to excess. I look back on the time we spent together with a sense of self-loathing. What was it that made me leave my self-respect at the door, to turn into one of your pawns in your ugly, twisted games? The ridicule, slander and self-destruction you subjected me to. But no, enough I tell myself. No more bitterness; after all, life is full of experiences, and that was one of them.

I do not wish you well, but neither do I wish you ill for I am indifferent. But how does one end a letter like this? I am no longer yours, neither am I sincere towards you.

Goodbye.

Would you take me seriously...

2008-03-27T14:31:00.003+01:00

... if I were called Brett?

There was an article in the Times yesterday about how a name influenced what the person was going to be like in adulthood. It cited 'James' is a name associated with success, as well as Lisa; Georges' and Annes' were the least likely to be associated with attractiveness and various silly things that one would generally giggle about but not take too seriously.

Then, I was going through a collection of short stories and novellas that I wrote when I was at the young tender age of 14 and wisely saved from floppy disc to compact disc. Back then I was full of romantic notions, and the innocence that life was only worth living if we could embrace the darkness of it as well, along with a dire insistence of being overly descriptive in what a life of luxury consists of. At this stage I was obsessed with Interview with the Vampire, and along with my then best friend we used to obsess and write fantastical stories about being vampires.

So, below is an excerpt which I read, and almost choked.

----

When Godot Arrives, by XXXXXXX XXXXX

... while the shadows cast by the roaring fire danced in the corners. I was leaning against the mantlepiece, studying the small, smooth artifact that brought back memories of wandering the fields of Elyssium in the dead of night with Cassandra. As I was lost in thought, I reached out to pick up the glass of wine I had set down, and at that moment the girl's reflection in the mirror above the fireplace startled me very briefly.

I turned to look at her. She had put on the black cashmere sweater I had given her, and dried her hair and twisted it into a knot. A stray lock had fallen out, and was caressing the nape of her elegant neck. I could envisage my long, well manicured fingers stroking the pulsating vein beneath the creamy skin.

She walked up to me. Her grey eyes were staring at me, cautiously, intently. 'I'd like to thank you for rescuing me from those hooligans,' she started.

'Not at all,' I countered. 'Would you like a glass of wine to calm your nerves?' as I walked over to the antique mahogany console with inlaid mother of pearl detail. I picked up a glass and looked at her. She nodded back. I filled the lead crystal glass with a couple of fingers of Chateau Neuf de Pape that had been decantered earlier that evening, and handed it to her.

She reached for the glass and mouthed a silent 'thank you' and took a long sip of the wine. Strains of imperceptible music played over the hidden speakers, and as she closed her eyes to savour the developing bouquet, asked what was playing. I picked up the controller, and turned up the volume. Notes spilled forward from a melancholy jazz trumpet, and soon we had almost finished the wine. She was by this stage giggling and swayed into my arms. As I held her, the pulsating vein was now too much for me to bear. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, at the same time she spoke gently, 'I forgot to tell you my name. It's Sandra. Actually, it's Cassandra, but that sounds so, formal.' I felt a jolt in my heart as I heard the name. 'What's yours?' she whispered.

'Kevin,' I replied...

-----

Wait a minute, Kevin? KEVIN? Okay, as a vampire I have lived for thousands of years, and even though I could change my name to anything, why Kevin??? You just can't take that name seriously, and as I was debating with Miss T, how can you take a country seriously if its headed by a man called Kevin (cf. Down Under).

*sigh*

Now I'm just going to ponder the rest of my existence with the name that I have been given (not Marmoset, obviously), and what in-roads I can make the most of.

It'll probably show that I'll be a drag queen artiste forced to sing 'Ken Lee' in rowdy bars for the rest of my life.

Midweek Choon

2008-03-26T14:19:00.002+01:00

Sorry for interupted service last week. I've been around but busy and so many things to do and catch up on. This week's choon is 'Ken Lee', by Bulgarian Music Star performer Vanessa Hassan. This is the best version of the song I've ever heard, and its not in Bulgarian...

Kafka-esque...

2008-03-13T13:34:00.003+01:00

I've been thinking about this the last few times I've been eating a particular sandwich. I am a bit of an odd person given that I like to open my sandwich to discern what constituents it is made out of, or when I am eating I have, according to OH, a very surgical manner of dissecting my food and eating things somewhat in rotation.

Anyway, to get to the point, this particular sandwich is of the chicken variety. It is shredded (the chicken) and blended with a herb mayonnaise, and a few slices of tomato. And here's where the Kafka-esque moment arises: it also has slices of hard-boiled egg.

Now, am I alone in thinking there is something terribly sadistic about eating the layer, and the layee? It boggles the mind to be biting into something while having that eternal question 'which came first, the chicken or the egg?' playing around in your head, while you're contemplating the merry-go-round possibilities of egg-chicken, chicken-egg and realising you only have 30 mins to put your mind at rest.

I would like some feedback...

Dear BBC...

2008-03-13T08:48:00.004+01:00

I have a bit of a bone to pick with you. It's about the Eurovision Song Contest. I'm going to do a wee bit of a comparison here.

Behold the nice looking Swiss entry, that sings of passion and you can just see it in his eyes that you want to take him to bed with you...

eurovision suisse 2008 Paolo Meneguzzi - Era Stupendo
par jief75

The Ukrainian entry starts off a bit wobbly, but builds up into a great crescendo and actually becomes quite entrancing, even if you're somewhat afraid of meeting the Shady Lady.

eurovision Ukraine 2008 - Ani Lorak - Shady Lady
par jief75

I'm hoping this is going to be the Swedish entry:

melodifestivalen 2008 - Charlotte Perrelli - Hero
par jief75

And the offering from the UK?

eurovision uk 2008 - Andy Abraham - Even if
par jief75

I have nothing against an ex-dustman following his dream and becoming a star courtesy of a reality TV show. The song he's singing isn't bad, but it doesn't really scream 'VOTE ME' (apart from when Ireland will vote 5 points out of habit. It might win a line up to be the next song that will be used in a Boots/Debenhams/BHS commercial, but not really the Eurovision Song Contest. What I do have against the UK's entry to the Eurovision Song Contest is that in recent years it just seems to be a big old joke, with The Sun carrying the double entendres it does so well to appeal to the lower masses, as well as time and again the spineless, insipid entries. Remember the year when Gemini didn't know the words to the song they were singing? The there was Darren Whatsisname that did wigger rap with nubile Lolitas prancing around in their school uniform, and most cringeworthily, last years upbeat entry, which although ticked a few boxes for verring towards pop and having synchronised dance moves, was spoilt by the innuendo of salty nuts and made me try and adjust the colour on the TV to be a bit more normal while the permatanned group played havoc with the 'red' settings on my screen.

So, dear BBC, why not do what you've been good at with so many other reality TV shows (Strictly Come Dancing etc.) and whip the nation into a frenzy, and make voting for good talent and a catchy song a fun yearly event, where our patrioticism shown during sporting events also extends into music. Take directions from Sweden's Melodifestivalen, and produce a winner with a song that will make the UK proud.

Marmoset

Monday Choons

2008-03-10T13:45:00.002+01:00

One of the first things I did when I started to learn French was to listen to lots of French music so I could pick up words and learn not to say embarassing things like voulez vous coucher avec moi, c'est soi? One of these artists that I listened to was Mylene Farmer, best described as a cross between Madonna, Kate Bush and Kylie by my friend. I was forewarned that the lyrics to her songs weren't the best way to learn (I learnt more through Marie La Fôret) but this is Ainsi Soit Je (Thus being me) and the way she sings it is a little haunting, if not a bit breathless when she gets to the high notes.

Mylene Farmer-Ainsi Soit-je
par logicom07

I nearly wet myself...

2008-03-07T16:05:00.003+01:00

... then I remembered what I had to do when I had a funny feeling

The way the kid strains at the end, he's going to have bum melons when he grows up.

Happy Friday!!

Does He Love You?

2008-03-05T13:43:00.002+01:00

The very first time I went to see the Sing-Along-A-Sound-Of-Music, it was the gayest affair of watching a classic that had been around for ages. For those of you who are not familiar, this extravaganza happened every Friday evening at the Prince Charles Cinema in Leiceister Square in London. Normally movies shown here were typically those you really wanted to see when they first came out, but never got round to it, and so because by the time they appeared at the PCC, the movies would already be out on DVD and so you would normally watch it in the comfort of your own home. Also, the average price per movie aould be in the region of £2.50 if you were a member, and £3 for those of you who weren't. This made it a great place to hang out when at university, and we'd regularly pop our own corn in the mirowave at home the night before, and stock up on cheap fizzy drinks from the 99p shop in anticipation of one of our PCC outings.

Anyway I digress. The whole reason why I went to the Sing-Along is forgotten, but I do remember the immense amount of fun I had. Firstly, the tickets were £10 each which I was quite reluctant to pay for, given I had this on DVD at home. But with lots of cajoling I eventually paid my note and went in, whereby I was asked for another £10 if I wanted the Sing-Along pack. From what I could make out, the pack contained a miniature foam board, the kind you'd use when swimming; a black and white hankie; various strips of paper, and some scraps of fabric and maybe even a whistle. Now my interest was piqued.

As in ever pantomime, there is always a prompt in the audience that shouts out 'Behind you!', or 'Oh no it isn't' or some equally innane phrase that normally drives me up the wall. Why I'd was watching a pantomime in the first place I really can't remember, but again I digress. The Sing-Along was like one giant karaoke event, where everyone was singing along to the words that appeared on the screen, along with the little bouncing ball indicator, and every time something was about to happen there would be a veteran Sing-Along-er that would prompt us with 'Behind you!' (for the curtains, and the Baroness) and 'The Eyebrows!' for the Baroness. There would also be lots of booing and hissing (the Nazi's, and again the Baroness) and cheering (Maria, the children, the nuns. Yes, the nuns.)

The Sing-Along pack contained all the useless paraphernalia that made the Sing-Along even more enjoyable. Of course, I was sulking that I didn't get one, but in retrospect glad, otherwise it would be another small contribution to the world's problem of waste disposal. When 'Climb Every Mountain' came on, everyone was waving the miniature foam board which was in the shape of a tampon profile, I mean, mountain, and when the nuns came on, all the black and white hankies went on the heads and How To Solve A Problem Like Maria was generally butchered by those who thought it funny to substitute 'Maria' with various forms of obscenities and other peoples names which spanned 1-2 syllables or 4 syllables, but never 3.

So anyway, the title of the post comes from the song Does He Love You by Reba McIntyre and Linda Davis, and although the lyrics are powerful, it must be said that the generically bland leading man is a bit gormless, and the whole set up for the video makes me want to shout out the following phrases at the following times as well as making the following observations:

0.07: Feathered cuffs and detail on the lapels that are all PINK

0.09: Introduction of generic photograph of generically bland man that you'd find in photoframes worldwide.

0.16: The Nostrils! The Nostrils!

0.24: WTF? It looks like they've been superimposed on some American primary election crowd that is cheering.

0.37: Ouch, that must hurt, but wait a moment, it was with her BARE HANDS. She must be ANGRY. Well, I'd be angry too made to wear that hideous pink get-up.

0.43: The Hair! The Hair!

0.55: 'Smile, look like you're enjoying it, like you're wearing the dress instead of her. Yes, that's the smile...'

1.11: 'Keep focussing on the dress you get to wear later...'

1.15: The NOSE! THE NOSE!

1.23: 'Poor Shelley, what a crap nose job'

1.26: 'Excuse ME?'

1.29: 'Oh no you don't sister, the dress is MINE'

1.36: 'HAH, I can see SPINACH on her TEETH'

1.37: 'You're NOT getting the dress'

1.49: PASTEL BLAZERS? Yuck

1.55: 'Is this over yet? Bland Boy is really boring me now... meh...'

2.00: SUSPENSE... Is it a genie?

2.02: YAWN...

2.06: WTF??? I mean seriously WTF IS SHE WEARING?

2.14: Murder in her eyes. And those NOSTRILS.

2.35: Seriously, if I were going to an Arabian Nights themed party I'll knock on her door and ask to borrow that headpiece. Its even got inbuild blades on the side so you can slit your wrists on it in shame as everyone thinks "WTF is he WEARING?"

3.00: The grim reaper, with big nostrils, to sense (or should that be to 'scents'?) death.

3.27: You're going in a SPEEDBOAT love, not a friggin yacht, take that stupid hat off, but leave the shoulder pads in, they're good as a drowning device.

It gets pretty boring after that, but I love the finale, which is promptly ruined by the shouting of the video director after that...

Does he love me? Not if my fashion sense turns into that, which is most definitely what will happen if I found out OH was going out with someone with Big Nostrils and Bad Fashion Sense, and only then so because I'd never see them together because my head would be swathed, suffocating in that turbanic nightmare while I fashioned a noose out of the feather boa.

This Made Me Laugh...

2008-03-04T12:03:00.001+01:00

...out loud

la vie des animaux selon les hommes
par mouskaters

Monday Choons

2008-03-04T09:40:00.003+01:00

Okay, its not technically Monday and this is ripped from Stornisse, but the sheer gayness and schlagerfest that this song represents is all too much to keep to myself.

2008 Sweden - Charlotte Perrelli (Semi 4)
par Galiza

In other Marmoset related news: i've been busy with studies and work. Also, I had a very bizzare dream last night. I was at a brilliant art exhibition where the paintings started to melt away to reveal really horrid images, then the artist was taken to prison, and while the gallery was being cleared out I had a massive argument with my sister and then I decided to convert the gallery into a stage for Cher's newest single, and it was being filmed in a gothic style setting, for which I was going to make black silk curtains, then I found myself in the kitchen making squid ink pasta and my pasta just wouldn't roll thinly enough.

Luckily I woke up in time before I totally lost it.

The Britishness of it all...

2008-02-27T14:34:00.002+01:00

... makes me chuckle.

Britain was hit by an earthquake last night. The times reported is as 'Britain shaken, but not too stirred'.

What makes me laugh is how its been reported, as if people have been hit by a Harry Potteresque Stunning Spell and are walking around in a bemused state. Consider the reportage:

'A spokeswoman for South Yorkshire Fire and Rescue Service said that "some sort of fancy stonework" had become dislodged.'

And, 'In Dudley 12 people walked into the police station in their pyjamas.'

'In Wiltshire, police said the pictures on the walls swung to and fro, as around 15 people called 999.'

I *heart* the reaction.

(Belated) Monday Choons...

2008-02-26T09:54:00.003+01:00

... because I was busy yesterday and it was Other Half's birthday.

This song is one of my favourites. I remember when the video first came out, it caused a bit of an uproar where I was living at the time. The fact that hirstute men are dressed 'provocatively in garments that are meant for the female form' (yes, they had a very archaic way of writing that was almost specifically ex-colony in its naïvety) was a source of great hilarity for the 13 year old Marmoset and his colony of chums. It wasn't until I'd moved back to the UK and suffered my first great heartbreak 7 years later that I rediscovered this song, and the lyrics still make me cry.

Annie Lennox - No More I Love Yous
par djoik

Exciting Things...

2008-02-20T09:32:00.003+01:00

... in my life:

- I have discovered muesli without raisins.

- I have discovered Nescafe Italian Roast in refill packs.

- I have bought a fabulous new set of pots from WMF that were on sale. They are the best cooking pots I have owned to date.

- I have found a good fish counter so I will eat more fish from now on.

- I bought some edible glitter to make fairy cakes.

- My boss has asked me to help myself to the Aqua de Parma sets we have in the office. I will be smelling like a boudoir soon.

- Stornisse sent me a USB key with lots of Eurotrashy music on it, and I am totally in love with this song called Trendy Discotheque by PayTV.

The lyrics are wonderfully over the top, and I now make my way across the park to them, pouting and lip synching along. It is somewhat, empowering, if you know what I mean.

Speaking of over-the-top and empowering, I finally found closure with one of my ex flatmates from when I lived in the Ivory Tower. She was an absolute nightmare that made me really miserable and made me feel unwelcome in my own flat. When I announced I was moving out, she took it upon herself to pack up all my things into unlabled boxes, a whole month before I was due to leave. That really pissed me off.

Anyway, the Gay German flatmate I used to have is still living in the Ivory Tower, and still has the Bitch from Hell there as well. Over some petty incident involving a cloths horse which I have left behind for him, she was making him miserable as well. To that he emailed me and asked me to clarify who it belonged to, as she had decided that it was the property of the flat, and hence left all her undesirables hanging on it and generally being selfish. So, I wrote an email telling her that it actually belonged to me, and that I had given it to Gay German.

She send me a really cutting message back, asking me what the point was. So, given that (a) I do not live in London anymore, (b) haven't had a chance to vent my frustration at her, and (c) don't give a f*ck about what she thinks, sent her an email with colourful language that has made me feel lots better.

Catharsis is a wonderful thing.

Monday Choons...

2008-02-18T15:21:00.001+01:00

... From my days of 'angst'.

Dancing Queens...

2008-02-15T09:10:00.002+01:00

Tonight OH and I are having our flatwarming. We still don't have any furniture, bar the 2 cheap armchairs from Ikea that are stand-ins while the rest of the stuff arrives. The lounge and dining area resembles the set for the French and Saunders dialogues: a big white room with 2 armchairs, although ours are skeltal versions of a comfy armchair.

So, a few weeks ago I asked my friend Stornisse about Eurotrash music, of which he is a big fan and incidentally is about to be the official Eurovision blogger. Following that conversation, he made me a playlist and sent a USB key full of some rather obscure music with titles such as Cameltoe, Trendy Discotheque (my favourite), and the Best Titled 'Aldi Markt'.

Oh, and this little gem:

But this is even better:

(Okay, neither are on the track list but you have an idea)

So tonight will be the culmination of a few days worth of preparation. I often like to prepare my own food unless I'm catering for more than 40 which then gets a little industrious, or I would have to be a full time House-Person to do so. Anyway, this is what we're having:

- Spring rolls with sweet chilli sauce
- Smoked salmon and caviar canapés
- Roasted peppers and smoked mozzarella pizza
- Thai chicken skewers
- Nachos with hummus and salsa
- Pecan dark chocolate brownies with white chocolate frosting

Some friends are making Haitian Rum Punch, and initially I was asked to procure 8 bottles of rum, to make 30 peoples worth of punch. I thought that it might be slightly excessive, as there would also be champagne for the early birds and the usual wine or beer as well as spirits and mixers. So now its been whittled down to 4 bottles. I still think I'll need to bleach out the bathtub so the Haitian Girls can make their tub of punch if the strength is to be easiliy consumable. Actually, I think the rum would do just as good a job of cleaning the bathtub...

Pictures of the food will follow (when the camera attachments arrive).

Have a good weekend all, and see you next week...

Monday Choons...

2008-02-11T10:02:00.000+01:00

... to start off the week with a blast from the past. Am I the only one who actually liked this song? The dancing is really cheesey though.

And Now For My Next Post...

2008-02-08T10:14:00.001+01:00

... I'm going to have a bit of a rant.

This is technically my 100th post, so pop the cork and leave the bottle on ice while I take to the soapbox and have a bit of a moan about the sheer ignoramity of a very large percentage of human beings out there in the world. It may not be the most coherent piece of writing but I need to get it off my chest before I scream, and my boss wonders what the hell I'm doing.

The Times today has an article about how zebrafish have been engineered to allow scientists to watch how cancers develop and behave inside the body in real time. It goes on to state that these fish were chosen for their strong genetic similarities to human beings. It is but a short article, telling us of the advances that have led to this being possible. Now let me first take my stance.

Those of you who know me will know that I previously read neurosciences as my subject at university. While in the course of research and experimentation, I have come across many species being used to understand lots of functions, thereby improving and hopefully even finding a cure for otherwise fatal and horrid diseases that take place in the human body. One of these species used is the zebrafish. Now, I am no ichthyologist, but from what I have learnt is that zebrafish live for 5 years, are the size of a paperclip, and their brains are the size of a pin head. Another thing that I have learnt is that pain pathways can be extremely complex. While it is apparent that higher, more complex fish such as sharks do feel pain, it has not been commented on lower fish species having more than sensory reflexes. I am not saying that zebrafish do not have nociceptive sensations, I am however pissed off by comments as such:

- I am shocked and awed that a animal rights group has not put an end to this cancer research. How many small innocent fish must suffer in order to save thousands of human lives. In my account, this is one to many.

This idiot probably orders deep fried whitebait without any sense of irony.

- LOL, they had to ENGINEER a fish that is transparent? Haven't these "geniuses" ever heard of the common Glass Fish? They can be bought in ANY Pet Store that sells tropical fish and costs no more then about $3-4.00. There is also a fish called the Glass Catfish, also easily available and costing the same. BTW, at wholesale these fish can be bought for about $.40, that's FORTY CENTS a piece. I can only wonder at the time and money these damn fools wasted to "design" a fish when they could have jumped in their car and had what they needed in 10 minutes.

This idiot has not read the article, and while he may be genetically related to a closer relative of amoebae, the rest of the human population is not.

- They must have found some other way to abuse common sense and waste resources on pointless research, as all scientists do.

Right, is it just me or would you think that finding a cure for cancer through genetic research is actually quite useful? Having worked in a lab I can guarantee that it is a time consuming and tedious process to get a set of data, or even the isolation of a few groups of cells that can contribute to the further understanding and development of drugs that can cure this horrid disease. It also costs a fair amout of money to come up with the equiptment as well as using said equipment as its being directed at such a size that is too small for the eye to see. While lots of money is being pumped into R&D, even more money is going towards the POINTLESS War On Terror. Comments as such should be directed to those university departments which come up with really pointles studies such as: Kids from low income families are more likely to eat fast food; Straight men are more likely to be attracted to Page 3 models rather than Anne Widdecombe; or, Gay men take better care of themselves than straight men.

And this, which I agree with:

- Yes, I want to see more stories like this and less of Britney Spears.

Goes to show the obsession with the mainstream media with failed celebrity that has become front page news, but quickly undone by this comment:

- Wait... is there something going on with Britney Spears?

Which indicates that this person doesn't ever keep up with current affairs.

I am pissed off but at the same time too worked up to be coherent in wanting to slap the world and say, 'WAKE UP AND BE MORE AWARE AND INFORMED!!'

Sorry for the rant. Wait, I'm not sorry for the rant; I refuse to do the English thing of apologising over venting my frustration at idiots.

And I Thought Moving In...

2008-02-05T11:26:00.000+01:00

... was tough

Read this to see what you have to do when you move out.

I think I'd rather die.

The Importance of Being Educated

2008-02-01T11:28:00.000+01:00

Today in The Times, it is reported that Woolworths were forced to withdraw a bed designed for 6 year old girls that was on sale because it was named Lolita. Mothers who saw the product online were understandably horrified at the idea of their little princesses sleeping in a bed named after Nabokov's sexually charged 12 year old subject of the same name.

What makes me laugh is this paragraph:

Whereas many mothers were familiar with Vladimir Nabokov and his famous novel, it seems that the Woolworths staff were not. At first they were baffled by the fuss. A spokesman for the company told The Times: “What seems to have happened is the staff who run the website had never heard of Lolita, and to be honest no one else here had either. We had to look it up on Wikipedia. But we certainly know who she is now.”

Further in the article it states:

In 2006 Tesco was removed its pole-dancing kit from the toys and games section of its website after it was accused of destroying children’s innocence.

It also brings to mind the episode that toy shops were requested to remove an electric Harry Potter broomstick that vibrated to 'stimulate flight on a broomstick', when one mother complained vehemently that the toy she had purchased for her 4 year old son was giving her 15 year old daughter more enjoyment than her brother.

It makes me laugh to think of the toy designers that came up with these ideas, as well as the branding committee that sit through and rubber stamp them for approval.

One day when I retire I'm going to invent something totally pointless, and outrageously named, targeted for the chav, uneducated market.

That's one way to rake it in.

A mountain of paper...

2008-01-31T10:58:00.000+01:00

... and bills.

First of all, I'd just like to remark on the fact that since I've moved abroad, everytime I open Blogger I have a random language assigned to it. I think its because there are 3 languages used officially here in Switzerland, so everytime I connect, depending on the internet connection thingy I get a randomly assigned language of Italian, French and German. The former 2 I can deal with, but the latter...??

Anyway, one of the tasks that I have set myself this week is to buy some folders and start organising the mammoth pile of paperwork that is starting to accumulate. So far this is the list of folders I need:

- Apartment: Lease contract, bills, repairs, contacts
- Apartment: Furniture receipts, electronics receipts and warantees
- Apartment: Standing orders and general payments
- Car: Documents
- Personal: Marmoset's official Swiss papers, work contract, misc
- Personal: OH's papers, as above
- Misc: Official documentation

One of the things that really amazes me is the amount of documentations and paper that is involved in any process. For example when we went to apply for an apartment this is what we required:

- Passports: Marmoset and OH
- Work permits: Marmosest and OH
- 3 months salary slips: Marmoset and OH
- Work contract: Marmoset and OH
- Ceritficate of Credit Worthiness: OH (Because I haven't been here long enough)
- Reference: Marmoset and OH
- Certificates of Swiss Residence: Marmoset and OH

It takes a while to get these documents together, and once I cottoned on to the fact that apartments here go like wildfire, I prepared multiple copies of the dossier and as soon as I'd stepped into any potential apartment, I'd have shoved this half a ton compilation upon the poor representative, exclaiming my desire in wanting the apartment then and there.

So, after having settled into the new apartment, Phase II of moving is in action. I'm getting all my stuff shipped over from London, and this is the list of paperwork I have had to prepare just to get some old books and clothes across the border:

- Passport (copy of first three pages)
- Residence Permit or "Zusicherung Aufenthaltsbewilligung"
- Lease or Property Title of Residence in Switzerland
- Inventory (detailed) in English, German, French, or Italian, dated and signed by the customer(three copies) showing:
>Full contents of this and any other shipments planned
>Appliances, giving make and serial number
- Customs Import Form 18.44 (in duplicate and signed by Customer) and a list of alcoholic beverages needs to be completed upon arrival in Switzerland
- Returning Nationals require an Attestation of Residence issued by the local authorities
- Foreigners require a Work and Residence Permit issued by the local authorities
- Inventory for all shipments must be submitted with first shipment!
- Swiss: "Schriftenempfangsschein" (receipt for depositing papers at the Town Hall)
- Form "Erklarung/Abfertigungsantrag fur Libersiedlungsgur" (owners' declaration of personal household goods)

I'm asking myself at this stage, is it really worth all that hassle? At least I don't have a car or I would require:

- Passport
- Work Permit
- Title
- Purchase invoice
- Form 18.44
- Proof of Residence
- Valid Driver's License
- Foreign Registration Card
- Car license from previous country
- Household goods inventory
- Swiss Insurance Receipt

How I have time to work as well as get the admin done is beyond me. Also, now that OH and I have a joint account, we were presented with our 'pack' that came through the post. That's another mountain of paperwork, with different colour coded paying in slips as well as instruction forms which once I figure out how to use them I will post another blog here.

Simian here is struggling to exist with all the frigging paperwork.

NB. I have forgotten that the cable that connects my camera to the pooter is in transit. Once it arrives I'll upload the pictures.

Eyes and Ears checked...

2008-01-30T09:44:00.000+01:00

That's what I need.

I've posted before that I get into work, and turn the television on to watch the news on the financial markets. While CEO's and analyst's drone on about the valuation of companies and sectors, I debate over the choice of Birchner Muesli I will be having for breakfast (the choices are with raisins, without raisins, with nuts, with chocolate and nuts, with berries and nuts, or tropical.)

Ever so often I'll pay attention and some newscaster will catch my eye. Sometimes I think they're cute, sometimes not. Sometimes I develop a fancy towards them (its tough when you're in an office on your own) but more often than not after looking at them for a while I realise that there is something not quite right about their suaveté. Example:

Brian Shactman. At first glance he's very clean cut, nice grin, knows his stuff. Reminds me of Leiv Schreiber (who I quite fancy, and reminds me a bit of one of my nice ex's). When I turn on the volume he has an okay voice, but the American twang really grates. Further inspection reveals a wonky exe, which is very mean of me. The tie that Brian is wearing in the picture here, is the exact same tie he is wearing today, but with a white shirt.

Then there's the other who is okay on the eye at first, then longer watching makes me think of a monkey. And another who totally reminds me of my ex colleague who had a habit of escaping to the toilet with the days papers (the FT, the Telegraph, the Times and European Wall Street Journal) and would not emerge until everything was read cover to cover. How someone could stew in such a stink is beyond me.

There was once when I saw a really dashing guy describing something on the current market situation. Dashing, wire rimmed glasses, very good looking. I turned the volume on to hear what he had to say.

He sounded like Mickey Mouse.

All settled in...

2008-01-28T08:57:00.000+01:00

... to the new apartment.

Friday came and the move went without a hitch. I packed most things and Other Half had the afternoon off to orchestrate the move with the removals men. It seemed that everything went well.

Saturday we went to Etoy on the train. OH wanted to rent a van so we could drive there where he could have a look at cars, and I could go to Ikea hell and shop for all the bookcases and shelving units. It only transpires that the car company which OH has signed up to doesn't have cars available after 12pm on a Saturday, or all day Sunday. So we went on the train, had some kottbullar (Swedish meatballs, mmm) for lunch and lugged some stuff back, amongst which were 2 ultra cheap armchairs which we will use for the time being until the sofa which we have ordered will arrive. This is approximately a 7 week wait. Anyway, the assembly instructions for the chairs came like this:

Sunday came round and we had to go back to the old apartment to do a clean up and scrub everything to make sure it was all presentable for the estate agents check, as well as to ensure we get a good reference and all the deposit back. OH views me as some sort of Prima Donna who never had to lift a hand before, and he pointedly said to me while I was in a contortionists position trying to scrub some dirt from a crevice that the first time he'd deep cleaned a house was when he was five.

Me: Ooh, child labour. Did you call Childline?

Him: I was five, and the hotline was in German because I lived in Germany...

Me: Ah... (nodding sagely in understanding)

I then thought about the last time I had to clean so thoroughly was when I broke up and moved out from the Bastard Ex. The lease was in both our names and we had well over 1k each in deposit with the renting agents. This we got back only half because of the various 'damages' that had been sustained in the flat as well as a hefty £850 bill for cleaning services after I'd scurbbed and bleached and cleaned and paid an extra £400 on top of that to get the carpets steam cleaned professionally. Amongst the damage sustained was a £600 bedside table which was scratched from the Bastard Ex's love of Bolivian Marching Powder, a fridge handle he had yanked off impatiently when drunk once, and a broken leg off a sofa bed that he had drunkenly collapsed into once after threatening to beat the living daylights out of me because I was going to pay the taxi he'd arrived back in and refused to pay for whatever reason.

I remember vividly that my departing words to him on that day of cleaning when he turned up after work in his suit and refused to help because 'the products are corrosive and might ruin his clothes' were exactly these:

'Fuck off you inconsiderate cunt, the drugs have corroded your brain and any trace of humanity in you. Get out, and I never ever want to clean up after any other frigging mess, emotional, physical or otherwise, ever again.'

I'm not bitter, just disappointed.

It was a while before I met OH and was ready for a relationship. The Bastard Ex was truly someone I would never ever wish on anyone else.

Anyway, I digress. After moving this morning I had to take a different route into work. I found that going on the tram my closest stop to work is by a park which depending on the number I take, means I either have to walk through the park or across it. Either way it is a lovely walk, and down nice tree lined avenues with old baroque buildings framing the backdrop. I miraculously had my camera with me so I took some photos and will post them here later this evening once they're loaded on.

To Market, To Market...

2008-01-22T10:44:00.000+01:00

... to buy a fat pig.

Or as the current climate in the financial markets indicate, the pig's broken loose and running amok, creating havoc and chaos whilst the shoppers call for someone to get the situation under control so they can once again shop in peace without all the other stalls being ruined by the panicked ungulate.

So, after devouring all this information, I naturally focus my attention to more pressing matters: Celebrity Offspring. There seems to be, according to various gossip sites and the like, a sudden spawning of babies in the celebrity world. So, a closer look at celebrity offspring and their cuteness/uncuteness rating led to a rating discussion between myself and Miss T.

(The following is an email exchange, and if you find the idea of adults bitching and dissing ugly children reprehensible, then please look away and come back in a few days for a new post)

***

Subject: Fugly children
Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2008 03:43:23 -0500
From: Marmoset
To: Miss T

Is it just me or does Bindi Irwin annoy the f**k out of you? Poor minger.

From: Miss T
Sent: lundi 21 janvier 2008
To: Marmoset
Subject: RE: Fugly children

Bindi Irwin is certainly not easy on the eye. In fact, she's downright ugly. The crimped hair doesn't help either considering how booffy her hair already is anyway. Has she made it into the news or TV over there? Please say no.

Subject: RE: Fugly children
Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2008
From: Marmoset
To: Miss T

Well, she was on dlisted.com Something about a ‘visit Australia’ campaign, and she was there with her mother, and she was doing that thumbs up gesture in some fugly dress and that fugly grin. I know its mean but its just unkind to encouage such an unfortunate looking child.

The whole world is laughing at, not with, her...

From: Miss T
Sent: lundi 21 janvier 2008
To: Marmoset
Subject: RE: Fugly children

The bad thing is they really ARE laughing AT her and not with her. She's working off her father's name and it won't last. She's completely under the radar over here now. Thank god.

Subject: RE: Fugly children
Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2008
From: Marmoset
To: Miss T

Good. No point in letting her head getting too big. It already looks fugging big with the hair.

And she might end up like What Happened to Baby Jane?

From: Miss T
Sent: lundi 21 janvier 2008
To: Marmoset
Subject: RE: Fugly children

Well, she could do with some makeup, and Baby Jane was good at that.

***

Anyway, we know we're going straight to Hull, so we continued compiling a list of the top3/bottom 3 celebrity children.*

Top 3
- Violet Affleck (awww... makes me want to have a little girl child)
- Suri Cruise (still think she's an Icelandic orphan)
- Junior Andre (so unbelievably gay looking, apple not far from tree etc)

Bottom 3
- Bindi Irwin (cf, conversation above)
- Britney's kids (erm... yes. They always look downright grubby)
- Shiloh Jolly Armpit (looks like Jon Voight)

I hear that pigs make good pets, and don't answer back though, so I may consult Other Half before deciding on the aspect of children.

*Please note that the above list is compiled by rating the offspring based on pictures and images available freely on the internetweb.

Things I've Stolen...

2008-01-18T13:46:00.000+01:00

one of my favorite websites to log in to and read random comments and amusing stories is b3ta.com (link on side). This is by virtue of the screen being a dull gray with lots of text all over it, so if my boss were to sidle up to me, provided he doesn't look at the screen and read what's on it, from far it looks as if I'm doing some research.

Anyway, one of the Questions of the Week was about shoplifting/stealing, and it got me thinking about the things that I may have deliberately or unwittingly stolen or shoplifted:

- I stole a pack of stickers when I was 8 and was into fancy sticker collecting. I was so paranoid that I didn't even check what I was shoplifiting and when I got home and examined my haul it was one small sheet of white box labels, 4"x6".

- I once picked up a book at Tesco's and popped it under my arm while I picked up other groceries. When pay time cam I paid for all the groceries and walked out with the book still under my arm. The beepers didn't do off and to be fair, I had bought 2 bottles of champagne and had totally forgotten about it.

- I once went to a party where everyone was so wasted they kept giving me their rolled up 20 pound notes. I tried to give them back but they kept saying I'd given them the notes. So I got home and I was 140 pounds richer.

- I once went to TopShop and tried on an ear cuff. It was luminous pink and I forgot to take it off and walked out of the shop with it.

- When at Uni, Small Flatmate and I had a mad old time nicking things. She was however, the queen of kleptomania. Under the gaze of a bouncer she brazenly mounted a bike that some guy had just got off outside a bar, and proceeded to ride home completely drunk.

- We woke up one day to find the staircase obstructed with traffic cones.

- Just before our finals we had one last night out. On the way back we somehow schemed and managed to nick a bouncer's walkie-talkie. This was very amusing at the time, until when we got home I asked her what was the point of one walkie-talkie, and her then boyfriend including Other Half started to make us even more paranoid by saying that these things had radio trackers in them and if we were found we'd be persecuted and locked up, as well as expelled from Uni. Next day, Small Flatmate and myself were ashen faced as we headed back to the bar and I pretended to lean over the counter to retrieve a menu, but surreptitiously dropped the walkie-talkie behind the cash machine.

More to follow, if I can think of any...

A Year of Happenings...

2008-01-14T14:00:00.000+01:00

... and one near mishap.

So far the year 2008, 3 weeks into its infancy, has proved to be quite eventful. From having only one apartment in Geneva, Other Half and myself now find ourselves in the posession of three. Granted that one is in London (and that belongs to me) and the other 2 are rented, nonetheless, because of the crazy way that the property market works in Switzerland, you often snap up what you can even before the lease on your current place expires.

As a result of negotiations, we now have a mere 10 days to pack and to move. On top of that, I've been making a list of all the things that we will require in the new apartment. From toilet tablets to water jugs to sofas, its all rather daunting, both in the mammoth task of execution and of cost.

So now we have a nice 3 bed apartment, with a balcony, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, a spacious lounge and diner, a basement laundrette, an underground car parking spot, and a cave which is like a storage space in the basement.

The cave is by far the most interesting aspect of the new apartment (I think), as the first time I went down to have a look at it I was struck by the number of doors you had to get through to the alloted space: First there was a set of 3 fire doors, then there was a weird grille, then there was a big metal door that was impregnated with about 15" of solid concrete, then you find yourself in an antechamber, with what look like locked toilet cubicles. Then there's another set of concrete doors that lead off to what looks like a warren of prison cells, with cheap wood dividing each space into a seperate area.

Yes, I am now the proud tenant of an apartment that is fully equipted for any enventuality, even a Nuclear War. As OH said to me once, if the Swiss ever had to face nuclear bombs then basically the whole world would be, well, fucked.

2007, as my friend Career Girl said, was the Year of the Cardboard Box. Between 2007 and 2008 I've moved a total of 4 times, and I hope that this will be the last for a few years.

And the near-mishap? I went skiing for the first time this season, and in my bravado I went down a wrong turn and ended up on a red run. This was somewhat scary, especially after I found myself rotating 360° and landing face first in lots of fresh snow with my head at a weird angle and my legs skewed. Luckily no damage has been done, apart from a small bruise on my right calf.

Ouch.

Okay?

2008-01-07T10:13:00.001+01:00

Part of my job requires me to watch the financial news and stay abreast with related matters.

This morning I'm watching a clip on a discussion about the likelyhood of a US recession. The man who was being consulted managed to fit in 38 'okay's at the end of each sentence. This habit of adding any noun or irrelevant word at the end of sentences really bugs me. I mean, where has the art of elocution gone?

It really irritates me.

Okay?

Happy New Year...

2008-01-03T09:07:00.000+01:00

...to everyone.

So where do I start? Ups and downs of 2007 will be put to rest and I am determined that 2008 will be the Year that Everything Comes Together. Started off in style, 1 bottle of champagne became 3 and by the morning/afternoon of the 1st my head was dull and I had to get up and pack up the rest of my stuff as Other Half and I were booked to come back to Geneva that evening.

After a meal of Nando's (we shared a whole chicken, a ton of chips and a bowl of coleslaw) we traipsed back to the flat and got everything in order. I then logged on to the internetweb to check the booking reference and almost burst a blood vessel when OH calmly pointed out that I had booked it for the previous day, at the wrong time to which I thought I'd booked, at the WRONG airport. Luckily for us OH was thinking on his feet and managed to rebook us onto the next flight out from a much nicer airport (London City) on a much nicer plane (Swiss, instead of Easyjet).

So, we're back and we're detoxing. On the Lemon Detox Diet. Only I've also given up alcohol for January (and by proxy, smoking too) so when you're not eating, and your dietary options are limited to syrup, lemon juice, peppermint tea and water, its pretty bloody boring. And because Geneva is a pretty bloody boring place to be when you're bored and nothing is open, we cracked and shared a pizza.

Half a pizza each, I'm not feeling guilty.

Anyway, my parents meanwhile have been busy on the other side of the world and have won an award. As a result our planned family holiday that was supposed to take place in a resort in Bhutan has now been changed to St Louis, Missouri, USA.

If anyone knows of anything exciting to do there please let me know.

Things Wot Happened To Me...

2007-12-21T10:47:00.001+01:00

... in 2007

I was really upset by the negative attitude and utter cuntingness of my Canadian ex-flatmate. She's still there in the same flat and the nice German Gay that I lived with is still having to put up with her because she won't take a hint and just fucking leave.
I moved over to East London and flatshared with a nice guy called Dave. Meagre porn collection, but very funny and dry. We used to get pissed at my favorite wine bar then stumble drunkenly to M&S and buy loads of food before jumping in a cab to head back.
I got my permanent contract where I was working in the City. Good salary increase plus benefits that included Luncheon Vouchers up to the generous value of GBP3 per day.
I acquired my shoebox flat in London, which I now let to my friend Career Girl.
I made a fabulous new friend, Stornisse, by virtue of him having a headache.
I went to the Dominican Republic and had a nightmare journey getting there and back. The wedding we went to was beautiful, but the food was so-so, and I also contracted suspected Dengue fever. My glands were the siye of ping-pong balls all over, my groin hurt when peeing, I had ulcer lacerations in my mouth and all down my throat that I couldn't drink or eat and sleeping was hell. On the bright side I caught a tan and came back brown AND slim, with 4 pairs of Havaiaanas and a bumper pack of codeine to help me through the pain. It is my new favourite drug.
Miss T came to visit from Australia, and we got horrendously drunk on the balcony with a fabulous couple, Pen Boy and Ice-Cream Boy.
My darling Mother came for a fly-by-night visit to attend some business meetings.
I lost my job in a reshuffle at work. So did a number of other people including some who had been there for donkey's years. However it was a bit of a nasty shock the way they went about it, so I sought legal council and made them pay, big time.
I got a new job a day after I got the news that I was being dismissed from the old job. With another payrise and in Switzerland, so I could move over to be with OH.
I learnt to ski better, but still can't tell left from right and skied straight into a sign that indicated LEFT and I turned RIGHT.
OH procured Kylie tickets for May 2008.
I met another fabulous friend: Tai Tai D
Bastard Ex rang me excitedly that he'd got a job in the City and we could 'do lunch' all the time. I had great pleasure in telling him I'd got another job in another city, and that I was not available to do lunch. EVER.

There may be a few other things, but that's pretty much the highlight of my year. And thus, this little monkey will leave you with a bit of light hearted entertainment, until after Boxing Day when service may be resumed (or in 2008)

Merry Christmas everyone and a very Happy New Year.

All Alone...

2007-12-19T16:50:00.000+01:00

... at work today.

Listened to some Virgin Radio which I'd forgotten I enjoyed so much. Anyway, some Sarah McLachlan came on, and it reminded me of a post which Stornisse had posted a week or so ago.

Here's my contribution to all of you in case I don't get to post before Christmas.

Big Love

Stuart Alan Jones...

2007-12-13T23:15:00.000+01:00

... after tonight's conversation.

Tai-Tai D is American and I met him at some drinks do a few months ago. Initially we said hi and bye, then we met again a couple of months later. Somehow we got chatting and we realised that we'd found our inner Tai-Tai between us; thus we became friends.

So I leave London, and Tai-Tai D is devastated. However, fate will have it that he comes over to the Land of Yodelling for work quite alot. And so we met for dinner tonight and caught up on all the gossip. Somehow during the course of the conversation on to topics more pressing, such as 'would you put out on a first date?'.

My answer, dear reader, is that quite frankly, yes.

You see, if I didn't 'put out' on the first date, then quite frankly I don't think OH would be on the cards. I remember quite distinctly that after hearing a diatribe of 'oh, you're really nice, but, I'm not really looking for anything...', that I just turned round, looked him in the eye and said, 'but do you want to sleep with me now?'

Long story short, the answer was 'YES'.

And Happily Ever After.

What got me thinking is that I have, from a very young age, always been assertive. What I wanted, I got, and OH is not shy in reminding me every so often, how difficult and 'I want things done my way' I really am.

So, in homage to Stuart Alan Jones of Queer as Folk, I salute you that in having you as a role model I learnt to be assertive enough to get what have, which is what I want.

Which is a Whole-Lotta-Good.

Party, Party, Party...

2007-12-09T14:20:00.000+01:00

... at various places around town.

2 weeks in to living in a new country and I've already been to more parties that I can remember. First up there was the Celebrity Party, where the invite said to 'party like a celebrity' and Other Half kept insisting that we go as a Hollywood Couple and party as celebrities.

Then there was the dinner party where after the first litre of Martini, we lost count of the drink ration and found out later that umpteen bottles were consumed.

Midweek there was a few more occassions to go out, but at this stage I declined, as there were more events to attend on the weekend, and along with that I've started in my new role which demands rather long hours.

Anyway, there was a UN party on Friday which OH and I attended. It was in the Palais de Nations, which is an impressive building but the decor is still stuck in the 60/70's era. In the hall where it was held there were yellowing fluorescent lights which cast a dull glow on the creamy marble walls. Food was in abundance, and the journos who were celebrating this annual event were giggling and being racuous, while the diplomats which had to attend were all milling around in the shadows and sipping wine from the pint sized plastic party cups which were issued. The DJ was playing random tunes from the 70's and 80's, with people off all shapes and sizes on the makeshift dancefloor. One particular person stood out in the crowd, with bleached blonde hair, in white jeans and cowboy boots, she was probably carrying the flag for all of Eastern Europe. Much speculation was had if said lady that was gyrating wildly was indeed a lady, or had only recently become one. The group we were with were trying to catch an outline of an Adam's apple, but with the fading lights it was quite difficult.

The fun really began when a pop song from each country started up and before you knew it each delegation from that particular country were up and gyrating randomly. At one point, a really cheesy song came on and OH commented on the lyrical genuis of rhyming 'miss' with 'kiss', when suddenly I remembered where I'd heard this song before.

(Here is where my friend Stornisse will, I hope, wholeheartedly approve of the music tastes of the event)

It was from the Greek entry to the Eurovision 2005 Song Contest.

(I've tried to post a video here but its not working so I've inserted the link instead.)

After this, it was a free-for-all. For the next 2 hours we were treated to a roll call of some of the best (and probably worse, but they were in different languages so we couldn't really judge the lyrical masterpieces that they probably were). Some country and western found its way in, and we spotted a very dour looking woman in a red velvet dress and pearl studded alice band do the two step with a very American looking gentleman. We started to play Guess-The-Nationality.

As the evening wore on and more drink was consumed, I started to feel that the atmosphere was one of great familiarity. I mulled over it for a while and leaned over to OH and said, 'don't you think its a bit like the wedding party of some distant friend or relative?'

OH glanced round and the Eastern European Entrant was now gyrating to a Bollywood contribution with a rather portly and pedestrian looking man. We looked at each other, then stood up, quickly said our goodbyes, and left.

A Week of Nothingness...

2007-11-30T17:58:00.000+01:00

... and a weekend of chores coming up.

My transition from London to Switzerland has always been planned, however, not at the speed at which it took place. I think it surprised everyone, even myself. To put the whole event that led to this sudden change in perspective, this is what I told the Muse:

'Oh it was all a bit of a whirlwind. Had started legal proceedings against work because they terminated my contract on some stupid excuse which was totally unfounded so they had tp pay me out in the end but I had to fight tooth and nail, then got a job in Switzerland so moved here and start ASAP.'

Indeed. That really is the point. Okay, there's lots more behind it but I have exhausted the topic of conversation to death, and even I'm bored of recounting the same yarn.

Anyway, since moving here I've had a whole week off to do nothing. In the words of my dear mother, as well as my friend American Dave, I had a week to just be tai-tai.

For the uninitiated, tai-tai is a chinese term that literally means 'wife'. Collectively all around Asia and the Orient it refers more specifically to the wives of rich men, whose mission in life is to be the perfect wife. Now in Western culture, the idea of a perfect wife can probably be described as the woman who can juggle everything in her life and still turn out well in the evening, with a Michelin star-quality dinner laid out, all the kids tucked up in bed, wearing the ol Agent Provocateur get up and still have the energy to be the perfect hostess over dinner and then load the dishwasher and lays out the husbands clothes and even manages to give a blow-job before settling into light slumber, lest the kids wake in the middle of night.

(I am aware that I may be facing a barrage of obscenities or indignance over this description from the more feminist inclined, but as I have mostly got this from my mother's old Cosmo and Good Housekeeping magazines, I welcome debate on this and I'll change it accordingly)

The perfect Eastern Wife, or tai-tai, however has these tasks to do instead on a more-or-less daily basis.

Shop
Have nails done
Have hair done
Scour supermarkets for bargains then compiles a list to later give to the maid in order to do the grocery shopping
Makes sure the children get to school on time through the chauffeur
Have lunch with the other tai-tais
Shop more either for clothes, shoes, jewellery or even just 'things' (as told to me by Mother Dearest)*
Make sure children are alive
Make sure hair is laquered in time for Husband's work function.
Make sure talons are filed/sharpened adequately to deter any potential floozies that may hit on Husband.
Go home and makes sure that Husband gives adequate 'housekeeping funds' for the next day.

And the list goes on. However, the main take home message is that tai-tai runs a very strict household so as to not burden the Husband with any aspect of running the house. With all the staff reporting to her, she is the head Housekeeper, who doesn't have to do anything apart from instruct, inspect and discipline. Also tai-tai holds the purse strings. The only thing she doesn't do is wear the trousers, but that is also debatable.

So, having had a whole week off, I decided to be tai-tai for the week while OH was at work, and to have a grand old time, taking in the designer shops in between having my nails done and my hair styled. Only there was one small drawback: Switzerland is slightly stuck in the 80's. Both OH and I a while ago decided that Switzerland is lovely, however, everything that is on offer, apart from the high-street fashions are decidedly stuck in the 80's. From nouvelle cuisine with minature everything on the plate and artfully draped watercress on the plate next to you forming part of your own garnish, to the slightly tacky decor harking from the days of the sets of The Bold and The Beautiful, I wasn't about to risk my nails being filed too short and my hair styled into a fauxhican (plus or minus mullet I'm not sure), so the only thing I did was shop. Mainly food shop, and this is what I wrote to a friend who asked me what I'd done in my week as tai-tai.

'I've spent most days lazing about, contemplating cocktails and food menus. So far I've made a paella, a lasagne, pumpkin pie, apple crumble, deboned a whole chicken (yes, thats how bored I am) and bought 2 pounds of prawns and shelled them to freeze for future use. I've also been mushroom picking and made a vat of mushroom soup enough to feed a battalion. OH's dinner is all done for the next 3 months. Slicing all those mushrooms was probably the most boring task, even after 2 gin and tonics with music on and a bottle of wine to accompany me.'

I think that I'm a more wholesome, Western type of wife. Tai-tai would never cook.

That's what the Cook is for.

And to put this in to context, I will next post on why, OH is emphatically not the wife, but I am instead.

*Note: tai-tai needs everything to be expensive, but tai-tai also loves to bargain.

A Blinding Return To Form...

2007-11-18T01:49:00.000+01:00

... or more aptly: Confessions of a Twenty Something Soon-To-Be Expat.

About slightly over a year ago Other Half moved over to the Land of Hidden Nazi Gold. As a result I was determined to give up life in London and join him one way or another, but then we settled into our respective routines and enjoyed for the best part of a year clocking up airmiles and generally existing on weekends and rants on the mobile phone which worked out quite expensive.

Also, I was reluctant having started a promising role in the city with a blue-blood firm and although the general atmosphere was jolly and not to mention the total un-PCness of it all, I decided to keep my head down and blog about it once I was comfortable enough to handle it in my stride. As it happens in the Square Mile, people get hired and fired more times than it takes to churn out Chavs in Chavland.

Anyway, long story short, I have been made redundant. Slightly painful story but in the event I've managed to secure a fabulous job where Other Half lives, and after 2 and a half fabulous years we're going to be living together.

Watch this space for more posts, both of life abroad as well as snippets from my former life in London.

Behold: Simian exists once more!

Dropped off...

2006-09-06T10:08:00.000+02:00

... the face of the earth.

Or so it seems to me that I have anyway. In fact, falling off the blogsphere is exactly that, when you start to lose the little circle of co-bloggers who support you with little comments and generally cheer you on or sypathise with you in your daily routine and grind. It's a bit like being an alcoholic attending meetings and getting rounds of applause instead of drinks.

There have been a few occassions where I was about to post, but knowing that I was in a somewhat morose state of mind was probably good that I didn't given that it would have probably been total self-pitying drivel. Not that there has been much to complain about, given that I have been on holiday and spend a great time with my family who have been over. OH is now back from China and I'm starting to stress about my career.

There have been some funny moments, and some exasperating ones. But then so follows the course of life. Bear with me and normal service will be resumed very very soon...

... in fact, when I'm relieved of the familial burden this weekend.

Hmm...

2006-08-08T13:52:00.000+02:00

... I'm not really sure what to post as my title today, so I'll just leave it as a contemplation.

Working in the City has been quite fun, I work with a brilliant group of people who are actively pushing for me to become permanent. I've decided that along with that, investments are my true calling. This has been confirmed by numerous people, along with my inner self as well as my Careers Advisor. Reasons are too lengthy to go into, but all make sense. However, there is great uncertainty over the possibility that this will definitely happen, so while being reduced to uncertainty and trying to find another full time role that will lead into a career, it has been rather stressful.

On top of that, my posts have been rather irregular of late. Similar to bowels, this happens when there is a lot of sh*t that are blocking up the intestines of life. One of these sh*tty things is the constant battle with my bank that charges me an absolute fortune to maintain my account just above the overdraft level. At the moment while I'm still temping, it is proving to be enormously difficult to plan and budget accordingly, as you're never sure what your weekly income would be as things like food poisoning and Bank Holidays factor in, but sick pay is non-existant and holiday pay is erratic.

Anyway, apart from that, I've had little other niggly sh*tty bits in my life. Trying to cope with OH being away is not proving easy. Well, when I say not easy I mean that there is very little regulation of time in my life. As a result, I have been going out with friends and drinking until the wee hours of the morning which is neither good for my health or my bank balance. Along these lines (ironically) I have basically not been having regular evening meals and while I've lost some (much unneeded) weight, it has not been of the healthy route.

Along with that, bed hopping, or rather sofa hopping has been quite tiring. Previous post on cat-sitting only hinted at the frustration of the cat shitting everywhere, thereby adding to the self perceived shite in my life. From my friend's place, to my sofa, where I was camping for acouple of days while my sisters are over to my uncle's sofa, where I've been kipping over the last 2 nights to keep my sisters company. Tonight, I will return to my lovely bed where I will be able to roll around in gay abandon and sleep loads.

Having mentioned my sisters, they arrived on Saturday morning on the red-eye. Since then we've all had red eyes, a combination of late nights, long walks and wine wine wine. It's been great seeing them, but tonight we're due to go out for dinner and it's not even scheduled until 9pm, for which I may cancel and go later.

Oh, I forgot to mention. I have now been smoke-free for 9 days now. Gay German Flatmate and I went on a cigarette break last Monday, and literally, we've stopped. Gay German has been having nicotine replacement therapy, with lots of patches plastered over him, and I've gone cold turkey.

Very very difficult.

On the upside, I think I'm saving money and with the amount I save, I'm going to buy myself a nice new Man Bag.

And feel like a New Man at the same time.

Of Mice...

2006-08-01T12:00:00.000+02:00

... and grown men.

More specifically me and a cat. I am currently cat sitting for a friend in Bayswater. Its a lovely penthouse flat with lots and lots of space, which in itself is a great pleasure in London. This cat is a city cat, and as a result is a bored cat, lounging at home all day, sharpening its nails on the sofa and other bits of furniture. I'm just dreading that she might have decided to sharpen her talons on my bag and laptop in retaliation after I chucked her out of the room yesterday when I found out that she was sleeping in the bed that I was supposed to sleep in.

Actually, I think this cat already has it in for me. My friend has left me 6 litter tray liners, with express instructions that everytime Little Miss Black Cat does a Kitty Pooh, I have to change the liner otherwise she'll start leaving presents everywhere else. The cat is supposed to dump once a day and I'll change it once a day. Its been 15 hours since I've seen the cat and already its dumped 3 times and I've changed the liner as many times.

Miss T reckons that being a City Cat, she is malevolent and vicious, especially since I've chucked her out of bed, so now the cat is rationing its Kitty Dumps to maximise inconvenience to me.

*sigh*

Yesterday after I'd fed her I was trying to prepare dinner. Cat kept weaving itself between my legs and almost made me trip over and break my neck. As soon as I'd stroked it for a bit, it sauntered off, tail in the air without so much as a backward glance to acknowledge the fact that it had got what it wanted. Later, when I was sat on the sofa trying to eat my dinner, cat jumped on me and dug her nails into my t-shirt lest I try and shoo her away. Trying to eat with one hand and stroke a cat with another is not easy.

I'm just dreading it tonight when I get back and it'll be sitting there waiting, expectantly to torture me for another night...

Maybe I should try and get some catnip so it'll get stoned and leave me in peace...

Sorry...

2006-07-31T17:25:00.000+02:00

... for the delay.

This evening I am cat sitting for a week, and as a result will be having a break from lots of other things that have been happening including hospital visits and crazy hours of work.

I will post a long, overdue update tonight and will keep on top of things then...

Amsterdown... Oh Sh*t...

2006-07-19T12:14:00.000+02:00

... I mean Amsterdam.

That was what Miss T wrote on her postcard one evening back at the hotel, when we were totally bonkers and laughing about nothing, which in my opinion is a really good way to be.

That is right, dear readers, I have been away for a few days from the smoke and smog of sweltering London and flew off to sunny Amsterday. It was really hot in Amsterdamn with the temperature soaring to 34 degrees, and because I was totally unprepared for it I got burnt on the bridge of my nose, and my arms and my calves. So now, I'm a sunburnt Monkey.

Amsterdumb was really good fun, but let us start from the beginning. I went with Miss T, who featured back in the Christmas blog, and who I spent the whole festive period along with China Doll, and they're both Aussie. We took the early morning flight, which meant that we had to be at the airport by 5.30. So, as it goes, we went to bed at 2 and woke at 3am. After faffing around being half awake, we hopped on the bus and went all the way to Victoria. It was bloody freezing and when we got there we had to leg it to the train that was about to depart, in flip-flops.

The rest of the journey was rather uneventful, apart from sniggering at the Lunn Poly Package Holiday crowd that stood out like a sore thumb as they were mainly dressed in tracksuits and matching terry-towel outfits. We had a coffee, boarded the plane, and then promptly fell asleep. An hour later we were in Amsterdoo, and when we got to the station from the airport that is where the fun started...

After figuring which tram to take to the hotel, we boarded the number 2 along with a huge bunch of people. I was ahead of Miss T, to make enquiries and to purchase a ticket. Suddenly, Miss T who was behind me, let out a gasp as the doors slid shut and I started to panic, pressing the green Open Button. But as much as we tried, the tram wouldn't obey and it moved away in slow motion leaving Miss T bewildered on the platform. After a frantic exchange with the conductor, it was suggested that I get out at the next stop and ask my friend to meet me there. So after an exchange of phonecalls, it was agreed that Miss T would meet me at the next stop.

And so I waited... 2 mins, 5 mins, 10 mins, 15 mins... After about 25 minutes Miss T finally arrived on another number 2 with her newly purchased Strippenkart. I hopped on and we made our way to the hotel. Once we got to the hotel, Moment #2 happened. Instead of the amount that was stated on the website, the hotel had added another €150 to cover 'incidentals' that was to be refunded at the end of our stay. If that wasn't enough, we then had to pay a deposit for everything that we requested, including €25 for an adaptor. Yes, a sodding adaptor.

After all that hassle, our room wasn't even ready for us, and so we left the luggage in the luggage store and ventured out into the centre. First stop, lunch. Mine was bacon and eggs, with bread (which I left on the side) and Miss T had a meatball sandwich. When our food arrived, Mine was eggs fried over the bacon so it was all stuck together, like some sort of bacon omelette without beating the eggs. Miss T's arrived exactly as its description: a Meatball. It was artfully sliced in half and each half balanced on a slice of bread, like some tumourous growth.

Next stop: what Amsterdoom is famous for: Coffeeshops. These are places where you can buy a varieties of herbals and smoke them on the premises. After purchasing a bag of Shiva, we proceeded upstairs via some rather precarious steps and found a bench. After a couple of drags, Miss T was starting to notice that people were staring at her constantly. I totally spaced out and after a while we started one of those really profound conversations that take place when you're stoned. This conversation was about the Strippenkart.

The only way I can describe this method of transport ticketing is best left to the experts. As the Amsterdam Tourist Info said:

To Use the Strip Card:
1. Check the map located at each stop or onboard to determine how many zones you require.

2. Validate the strippenkaart by stamping it in the yellow machines onboard or get a stamp from the driver. Validate according to the number of zones you will pass, plus one. For example, if you are traveling within one zone, validate two strips; If traveling across two zones, validate three units. Note: Multiple passengers can travel on a single strippenkaard as long as the proper number of strips is validated for each rider.

Exactly. When you're bonkers, trying to work out why two strips instead of one is really quite profound. It is totally mind-absorbing and boggling trying to work out why they just don't stamp a zone per trip.

Anyway, after being bonkers, we decided to walk back to the hotel to check in and freshen up. On the way to the hotel we were totally baffled by the traffic system. One lane for bicycles, one for trams, one for cars and a tiny strip in the middle for pedestrians, and then another lane for bicycles coming the other way. With the trams going 'DONG' and the bicycles going 'ding-a-ling' at every turn, I was getting quite paranoid that I'd become roadkill. Images of bicycles morphing into killer tandems started to loom in my mind, like the scene in Dumbo where all the Pink Elephants on Parade morph into a nightmarish lump...

So the Hotel. We got there in one piece. Slightly frazzled with overtures of 'ding-a-ling's and 'DONG's still resounding in my head, I tried to focus and got us checked into our room, which was very nice, but didn't have twin beds. It had one Large F*ck Off Bed. So I rang reception and requested a twin room. Within 10 minutes we were moved into the next building, and after sitting in the new room for 5 minutes I decided I didn't like it. There was no view save the scaffolding whereas the other room looked onto the private gardens. The toilet was substandard and the light flickered like the scene in while the other was palacial. So I got Miss T to ring up reception and request to change back to the first room. 5 minutes later we were lugging our bags back to the main building and went straight to the original room. After a nice long shower to wake myself up, I collapsed on the bed and fell into a deep sleep...

Part 2 will be continued, and you may be able to tell that I'm a difficult person to please...

Stress...

2006-07-11T11:34:00.000+02:00

... over the impending visit of the parental unit.

I really don't know where to begin. Normally I'd have a bit of a rant but I'm too exhausted with all the going's on of recent that I can't be coherent enough. Just to give you a flavour: Parents + sisters + family friends + 1 whole month + a week in Scotland + having to find accommodation for them while in London.

All put upon me last minute.

I really feel like crying, but I'll calm down after a cigarette.

Pah...

Its Oh So Quiet...

2006-07-10T12:15:00.000+02:00

... All Over Town...

This morning has been somewhat dreamlike. The atmosphere is of a viscous nature, with everyone seeming to be floating by. Even the usual rush on the Tube seemed to be missing, and the carriages were less busy.

After a long time hugging OH and telling him to take care and to be good, I finally managed to prise myself away and make my way into work. In the office today its been quiet, quiet and looking to be quiet for the rest of the day.

Yesterday, after many weeks of planning and agonizing I finally managed to move all of my stuff into OH's flat. I've now taken over his lease whilst he's away and into the time when he gets back and onto Geneva. Many hours of cleaning and polishing and shifting furniture around, I have now managed to house most things apart from my clothes. I have so many clothes its not even funny.

The bedroom looks more like a clothes warehousethan a place to sleep in. Clothes are stacked on the chair, atop the wicker basket, atop the boxes, atop the piano and even on top of the wardrobe. I've got to do something about it, given that I've still got a suitcase in the living room. Apart from that most of my other stuff is all sorted out, and the stress is over.

Now, I just need to find a career...

Apologies...

2006-07-08T14:21:00.000+02:00

...apologies...

Things have been somewhat surreal recently. I've been meaning to update this blog regularly but somehow haven't actually found the time to do so. Aside from working quite hard, I've been mainly packing and organising to move into OH's flat as he's leaving and I'm taking over his lease as mine runs out a day before he actually leaves, so its all worked out.

Friday was very surreal indeed. On the anniversary of the London bombings all the tubes were quiet. The day before I got stopped searched and while people were streaming out off the tube, I was there in a corner desperately trying to avoid the accusing glances of fellow commuters who were eyeing me up and down and throwing alarmed looks at the SpaceNK bag I had with me. It's only my bloody lunch and my pashmina in there I wanted to scream.

But hey ho, I've now got a lovely pink slip that allows me to wave it in the faces of any law enforcing officer who comes up to question me on why I'm in aisle 2 of the supermarket where all the ladies tampons are instead of the other aisle where the bread is.

My answer: Because I'm bloody gluten intolerant that's why.

And after an agonizing 8 months, thinking that I am diseased with this stupid rash, it transpires that I have a gluten intolerance. Every time I come into contact with the stuff it means that I'll break out into a rash that'll eventually subside but in place scar me for life.

So, with OH off and me unpacking in a new flat tomorrow, spare a thought for lil' Monkey over here and I'll regale you with Tales of the City once I resume service on Monday.

And this time I promise.

*Thanks to Fastfingers who sent me a very stern email telling me I was naughty for not updating my blog...*

OH Is Leaving On A Jet Plane...

2006-07-01T00:42:00.000+02:00

... and he'll be back in six weeks again.

So, OH got the Scholarship to Beijing for six weeks to improve his Noodle Ordering Skills, and then when he gets back he's got three weeks here before he goes off to Geneva for his new post.

And he's decided to start a blog!

Look at the side bar and he's under Big Bowl Immerse Miscellaneous Stamp...

Lord only knows why...

Taste Of The Orient...

2006-06-27T15:42:00.000+02:00

... and of cheapness...

Dazzling diamonds we out on display the other day when I sauntered into Selfridges. There was a sale going on and there were throngs of people milling about and pushing past each other in an eager attempt to grab at the bargins that will be displayed for approximately 2.6 minutes before it hangs in the wardrobe for the rest of eternity.

I was in a bit of a mood that day. Prior to the beginning of our shopping sojourn OH took me for lunch at this lovely Middle Eastern tavern around the corner. Feeling slightly delicate from the night before, we opted to stay off the wine and just stick to the water. On the other table there was a burly man who was with two women who he was clearly trying to impress.

'Soave, please' he instructed the waiter, but pronounced it in an accent littered with pretention so it came out more 'Soh-ah-vey, puh-lease...'

The waiter flounced off and OH and I resumed our starters which had arrived. I had whitebait and OH had stuffed vine-leaves. While we munched, the waiter flounced back with a bottle of wine cradled in his arm. With a flourish, he presented the bottle to the man, who gave it a cursory glance and a curt nod. The waiter then proceeded to open it and pour a bit into the man's glass, and while he did so, I caght a glimpse of the label and gave OH a nudge.

The man raised his glass, and swirled it round like a true ignoramus, took a gulp and proclaimed it lovely. By this stage I was trying my hardest not to snort whitebait through my nostrils. OH was getting quite perturbed and asked me what the matter was. After I'd managed to calm down I explained to OH that the bottle of wine that was proclaimed 'lovely' was in fact the sort of wine that we used to drink all the time.

That came from Costcutters. And they were 2 bottles for £5.

And the restaurant was selling them at £12.95 per bottle, to this ignoramus who was guzzling it with Great Gusto.

The great big Galah.

10 Things I Saw...

2006-06-22T11:08:00.000+02:00

... on the way to work today.

1. A Very Brown Woman (fake, obviously) trying to put mascara on.

2. A Bald Man with a Very Loud Shirt on.

3. A tramp (at 8 a.m.??)

4. A man in a pink shirt with Very Big Headphones on.

5. An oriental woman who was asleep...

6. A man who was doing the Sudoku, followed by the crossword (obviously read that Metro article on Brain power...)

7. A man doing a Mathematical Equations on a correspondence course with the Open University.

8. Two Chav boys in Kappa tracksuits.

9. A woman with very sweaty armpits.

10. A Very Gay Boy dancing to music (oh, that was my reflection...)

Silly me...

World Cup...

2006-06-20T01:31:00.000+02:00

... and world class knickers.

(The following is taken with permission from a conversation between myself and Tinkerbell)

Tink's boyfriend, the lovely docile PeterPan (yes, the one who's always a young one at heart) went to Germany for the World Cup. Tink was somewhat reluctant for him to go given that he's now with a group of Very Blokey Males, in the event that Boys that are Away Will Most Certainly Play.

Tink, apart from having a lovely complexion, also has immaculate taste in undergarments. Once, not 2 weeks after I first met her, she dragged me off (okay I went willingly) to Selfridges to try on a demi-corset which she then put aside for PPan to purchase for her. The rationale was that PPan loved undergarments, but not as much as he liked to rip them off her. As a result, it was decided that a very very expensive pair was on the cards, so instead of the animalistic 'ripping off', they would be removed with the utmost care and hence, Win-Win situation.

So, corset tried-and-tested, Tink took it to the counter to be put on reserve. Bitch Woman who Wanted Money asked very pointedly why said boyfriend couldn't pay for it then and there, looking at me very crossly while she tried to enunciate syllable by syllable in her faux-posh voice. Tink just threw her luscious mane of hair back and retorted that I was Gay Best Friend, and not one who would try to Get Into Her Knickers.

Fast Forward

(Assuming now PPan now has a taste of expensive lingerie...)

Tink and I were at Alice's BF's birthday on Saturday. Tink wails that PPan is in Germany watching the, erm, legball, I mean, football. The night before she'd received a phonecall from PPan, saying that the Wild Boys had gone off after the game in search of Ladies of The Night.

Tink: 'What will I do if he meets an Aryan Dream?' (wailing)

Me: 'Erm, you mean Aryan Nightmare?

Tink: 'Oh, I do hope not...'

Me: 'Well, I don't think that Germany sells v v v posh knickers, so PPan would be repulsed by having to look at cheap pants, let alone touch them...'

Tink: 'Oh, darling, he'd get a rash if he was within twenty yards of bad lingerie!'

Me: 'Indeed...'

...much much later...

I was thinking how horrid synthetic knickers would be, when OH pointed out that I had lycra-blend pants...

I broke out in a rash.

That Bloke...

2006-06-16T10:33:00.000+02:00

... in the corner of the tube looked well dressed and very smart.

So when the train pulled into the tunnel I got on the train and stood right next to him. I was in a very good mood, with the Numa Numa song playing on a loop, and the realisation that it was not only Friday, but that I also had been paid, made for a wonderful feeling. No longer the student having to scrimp to by a bottle of cheap wine, I now cockily saunter into Marks and Spencers to by Fresh Fruit Smoothies.

Anyway, I'm digressing.

Stood next to said bloke, and train pulled out of the station. I was mentally mouthing the words to the song and doing my Disco Diva dance. At this point I must have lapsed into the state where I close my eyes and inadvertently sing out loud, because I felt someone tapping me on the shoulder.

I paused my player, took out my headphones and looked up in embarassment, my mouth ready to form an apology. Instead I saw The Bloke looking at me earnestly trying to hand me something that looked like a leaflet. As I looked down at the leaflet he said to me in an extremely serious voice, 'Do you believe in the Kindom of Jehovah?'

I was astounded. Have they now resorted to Charity Style assaults on the streets as well as the tubes? Where you're walking along quite happily and then suddenly you get sidestepped by some overeager student (okay I know I used to be one) who wants to Save the Marmosets in Middle Mongolia, and you try and look away like you haven't seen them of you wave them away dismissively.

I was mind-boggled, and still he gazed at me expectantly.

'Erm, no' was my reply.

'Why not?', his retort.

'Erm, because I'm depraved.'

'Why?', he pressed on.

I lowered my voice to a theatrical whisper, 'Because I like cock,'

Train was pulling into my station.

'Actually,' I said, voice raised slightly, 'I LOVE cock'

Train stopped, I jumped out, and resumed Numa Numa playing and did a little jig on the way into the office, via Marks and Spencers.

Never, never interrupt me when I'm in the middle of my EuroTrash pop music.

And never ever stand next to a man which everyone else is trying to avoid on the train.

Especially during rush hour.