i am in love.

being away makes me know what i have.

and i won't deny the appeal of man from a town that agrees dinosaurs are cooler than unicorns. behold the maidstone crest, home of the first discovered iguanadon in the world:



fucking sexy eh?

Swiss Miss

Things you should know about Switzerland:

1, beer + flat sprite = best summer beverage ever. seriously.
2, cheese should be a deity (possibly in the holy swiss dairy trinity with chocolate and ice cream)
3, paddleboating rocks
4, why visit a museum if you can buy shit on sale in the giftshop and then just leave?
5, that said, shot puts are ver ver heavy
6, hills make the world picturesque.
7, ...just not pedestrian friendly
8, horology is the study of clocks
9, texmex can make you sick (but zorro can make it better)
10, shutters are essential to a happy home

conundrum

it has occurred to me, considering the number of nondisclosure agreements on my desk, perhaps being interviewed in the paper complaining of government neglect in the visa programme i applied for may not be in my professional best interest.

the question now is how to do i tactfully and discreetly cancel the interview without marring my reputation with the press i will soon so desperately need?

a conundrum indeed.

Cruella

i know i should write about how i am home.

with the family and the cousins and the christmas joy. how i hate the noise and the bright. how i miss him already.

but at the moment i am shocked the psycho ex-flatmate actually bothered to remove me as a friend on facebook. she wrote me a letter once. for "closure". to say i am the worst person she's ever known.

she really does hate me. and it's such a shame she wastes here life on that kind of thing. who has time for that?

progress report

i don't even have the nerve to check my stat tracker i've been so rubbish about updating. but i seem to start every entry these days with apologies or excuses. enough of that. here are today's headlines:

- job interview at the book trust. not a sure thing, but a step forward and a dream gig. am afraid to gush too much in case i build myself up for a fall, but suffice to say i'd be planning author tours to go all over scotland and then them. like take the words on wheels van (it's bright yellow and possibly has a giant bookworm on the side) to orkney to phillip pullman can talk to the children of the isles. how brilliant is that?

- home is suddenly very soon, not soon enough and entirely unplanned

- it's fall. in all the blustery rainbow ways. it's perfect. if only it didnt make me break out like a 13 year old or blow my perfect pleated school girl skirt over my head.

- i keep dreaming of babies. my baby. and she looks so much like steffie and mom it hurts to wake up.

- it's been ten days and i am bleeding again.

- jack and i are distant these days.only partially on purpose. mostly just out of neglect. i filled out some stupid myspace quiz he sent on just as a general update. it was the first time i wrote down i wasn't single. it's such a tiny thing, but for me to be taken is already big, and for my best friend not to know is even bigger somehow.

- starter for 10 is a brilliant british john hughes a like. you should totally see it. especially if your name is jennie.

i think that is all i have to say for now. besides, liam is just out of the shower.

Seasonal

I know it's been awhile.

We've been without internet, and frankly life is simultaneously too fast to substantially record and so unremarkable and trudging I don't have much to say.

Without sounding cliche, the coming of fall and the impending winter find me rather cheerless lately. Things are just a little flatter, duller. And it takes more and more effort to bother with the day to day.

But enough. Today I am going to make a concerted effort. So, here I am. And as always, I will be probably descending into a vague and varied list form at any given moment.

Liam and I are still rather up and down. But we're on the same ride. Together. Which feels like progress. Actually, things have been quite good in all honesty. But last night he whispered "why do you like me?" and I dont yet have a satisfactory answer. I just do. We are trying to decide where to go on holiday. Probably to a remote cottage in the Lake District.

In other news, life is turning fall. There was the musk of fox this morning and red leaves litter the street. Jules and I are making lamb stew and pumpkin cornbread tomorrow to celebrate.

Oh, and I've started eating cheese. Nibbling a platter at my sister's began the long decent to normalcy and dairy loving madness. Monday night I couldn't be bothered to cook so had cambazola on charcoal crackers.

It's the first fall of my life where everything is staying exactly the same. And I don't like it. So yeah, I am okay, but ready for change.

Arrrgh

pirates are awesome.

a pirate musical extravaganza of participatory dinner theatre (with coconut monkey drunk holders) is heaven.

that is all.

the berenstein bears' too much fun

for once i'm not writing because i have too much to say.


my job is rubbish, and i can't even get an interview, though i keep applying elsewhere.

my flatmate hates me and probably won't ever pay me the money she owes (which is a lot) and it has become some fucked up passive agressive battle.

i am going to visit my sister in a week. (!!!!)

i haven't found someone to fill the lease and i've got a week to sort something or i'll be liable for rent.

i can't say i've fallen back in, but liam and i are something. something new. something maybe.

the book festival is all fancy parties and 4 course dinners and too much name dropping and celebrities and all round party hopping madness. this is my first night in a week, and the only one for 4 days to come. i never thought i'd see too much champagne (or meet Sir Angus - the antiques dealer, castle owner, and orange turban wearing dirty old man at a fancy dress Sultan's Bazaar party). i just keep hoping all this networking leads to a job.

canucks are good for something

last night i had one of my weird adventures.

no, i still haven't gotten laid, but i did not loll about, and more importantly i went out and met new people.

see, garbage liz (as in the first party at uni was "dress as someone scottish" and she came as shirly manson from the band garbage and nobody knew if she really did fishnets and minikilts or if it was a costume and the name stuck) joined the peace corps and moved to lesotho (as in that dot of a country smack in the west of south africa i totally thought was a lake) last year.

and out of the blue emailed to say a friend of hers was headed to edinbugh for a couple days and wanted to mail his plane tickets to a UK address, would I mind?

I said sure, and we emailed and he seemed nice and vague and Canadian and named Jamie. I figured I'd milk him for a pint or two in exchange for doing absolutely nothing and go on my merry way.

last night we met up for said pint and not only was he hot, he was fun. So instead we got ridiculously stoned off some weed we scored from a chav outside the pub and went to see a high school rendition of 1984 at the fringe festival. Afterwards we had nachos and had to finish the weed (since the absolute lameness of the play had killed our buzz) and went our merry way many hours after i had planned with me in a very happy place.

but it was good. i am glad he and his girlfriend are moving to town in the fall, they will be fun. better yet, he can play eucre.

though, important things to note on why a cute, fun potential new mate front:
1, he is canadian
2, he is a total druggie
3, he is way too political (in the arrested at protests way, which i suppose of political bents, is one of the better options)
4, there is the girlfriend, who i am destined to like. she is trailer trash from minnesota.

it's nice we have these clear boundries at the beginning.

death of a dream

so, i am not ashamed to admit i love shitty blockbuster heist flicks. anytime, anywhere, i'll watch slick bastards damn the man and possibly wield naughty weapons.

so in a day of nostalgia and joy, i slipped in Mission Impossible for the first time in years. A mainstay of my video collection, and an early member of my adoration of all things espionagy.

fair enough the make-up is dated, the technology looks archaic, and the soundtrack gimicky. these are the small things one must forgive - like with Sneakers or Charade.

but i cannot get over what the last year or two has done to tom cruise.

i used to see that wild enthusiastic look in his eye and think "gosh, it's so crazy it just might work! you clever bastard." (and want to name my sons ethan hunt) and now i see it and think "that man possibly ate placenta and believes aliens came to earth. you psycho fucker." (and want to never see that manic look again).

it is truly scarring.

hatched

lauren has inspired me. of course i shamefully eat up any likeness to celebrity hoping it'll shed light on what i look like as no two cameras, mirrors or pairs of eyes seem to agree. and my unending fascination with celebrity whoredom always helps.

so, in the lazy summer sunlight i started recalling all the past ingenues and vixens i've resembled or replayed.

1 - Anna Chulmsky (in My Girl). I think perhaps the neurotic conotrolling pre-teen image may have had something to do with it as much as a nose i've still barely grown into, as this was from the nanny who insists i almost killed her baby.

2 - Claire Danes. I'm pretty sure we're talking My So-Called Life here which is also fittingly neurotic and angsty with the uber-nose. One thing I am sure of, it was before her Mod Squad makeover when she lost all that weight. I am still the proud owner of that round Iowa face and the tits she forsook for Hollywood.

3 - Kate Winslet. Again, I am pretty sure the curvy women of Hollywood (in this case with both the nose and shocking eyebrows of my high school years) are called into play mostly because i am not nor ever will be waifish. that said, this was back when she was famous for empire waisted dresses and swooning.

4 - Kathy Ireland. My bunk buddy at camp likened me to a super model junior year. I was new to mascara and the perfected 90s side part of messy sexy glory (well, as much so as any 16 year old had the right to have. too bad I was almost a decade behind). I still wonder if she was hitting on me as no one looks that good in the blue lake polo.

5 - young Brooke Shields (no I don't believe in island incest). A brunch-friend who I barely know mentioned the other day, but as she was fucking hot (and this was before the disaster of a sitcom, the baby drama, or the cocaine), I'll take it. Though, I was just off a holiday tan and glowing from retail therapy, brownie kebabs and gossip. A good mood makes anyone more attractive. Unless of course you are one of those broody sexy men i find myself messily attracted to who are usually a disappointment when they finally smile.

6 - and now Kathleen Turner. And I'll take Joan Wilder with her 80s hair and Michael Douglas in white pants so long as no one mentions The Graduate or Baby Geniuses and I get Jessica Rabbit's legs. Christ, in the white dress from BodyHeat, I'd do her.

So I think we can all say I have grown here. In everything but sense (and especially vanity).

But all in all, I think we are headed in the right direction (and yes jennie, that is away from cable knits and plaid, too tight cut up tshirts, paisley velvet pants, and various other disasters of my previous incarnations. i shudder at the thought and blame all of you for not talking me out of these things but waiting for me to realize and relive the embarassment for years to come.).

but hallelujah. the duckling has sprouted. or at least stopped molting.

night of the living hedgehog (an ode to gameshows gone by)

so once upon a time, i lived with lauren. when she didn't hate me for filling the kitchen with ants or forgetting to pay the phone bill, it was really really great. especially when she could get drunk off 2 sminrnoff ices or indulge ourselves in flavo-ice and temptation island 2. or that time she needed help to band-aid over her nipples because her dress was too low for a bra and lord knows she wasn't going to nip out.

but all good things have a price, and hers was the random medical scares. (though, this is not the time for the insulin scare story where we went to the hosiptal in the middle of the night and i watched "aliens in the wild wild west" on disney only to run into a friend who got a broken beer bottle in the face while watching a child throw up in the waiting room. that's a different time.)

but once, when the pump was still newish lauren had to stay awake until her bloodsugar chilled the fuck out.

i don't remember what happened or why. what time of year it was. or what inspired us to watch TBS, back when it had just nixed it's "superstation" logo. But curled in our basement hell hole cubby; lauren, bridget and i wiled away the hours with old school Family Feud.

oh yes, it was the night of crazy grandma.

Now, I am not a huge family feud fan. But years of gameshow network with the girl had taught me to find Richard funny rather than pathetic and the retro-ness (sidenote: can you have a word that is only prefix-suffix without any actual content? is this postmodern lingusitics now?) of it all had it's charm. I still of course refused to watch the ones with Al from Home Improvement (except that time there was the Stars on Ice face-off. that was amazing.) and if anyone thinks Louie Anderson should still be alive, stop reading now.

Anyway, it was 3am. And it was old school family feud with the "ooh cheek or mouth Richard?" suspense and this tiny mad woman became my hero.

I wish I remembered more of it (It is times like these I miss diary-x for having lost all such carefully recorded memories I wrote down expressly so I wouldn't have to store them in my brain any longer), but her best two were:

question: Name a favourite pet
answer: hedgehog

question: Name someone you would leave your keys with
answer: mailbox
Richard notes this is not a person and gives her a rare, possibly unprecedented, do-over while trying not to fall over in gin-soaked, coconut-oiled laughter
new answer: mailman
she may have hastened to change this to "stranger" or I may have added that in later for effect. I have a tendency to do that.

Anyway, I wish I remembered more of that night. For all the drama of lauren's brushes with sugar-less death, it did make for some good times.

And I thought of it today because I found this. A pale comparison, but a fresh reminder of those classic gameshow days gone by.

culture clash

since when did office casual "i'm not trying but damn sexy anyway" ever involve
a, me
b, blue pinstripes
c, paisley?

and yet, in the land of uk fashion, i am so going to get away with it.

either i am going blind or have finally assimilated the anti-matching genetic code of the british.

but so help me god, if i wear leggings all bets are off.

should any of you actually watch the world cup, you should all be cheering for holland.

not only because they have the most complex ethnicity etymology - oh the dutch from holland who are the netherlands - or because their football kits refer to a political event hundreds years old. seriously. william of orange is old news boys.

but because the are my team in the office pool. and not only do i want to kick fuck-heads ass, but i could win money. and money is a good reason to like sports.



well, that and one of theif forwards is hot.

summer love

it's fucking sweltering.

the dense humid air, ripe and full. the teasing promise of rain and agonisingly long days of lethargy.

in this heaviness and sticky weight, all i can think of is sex.

the moist air of sleepy breath. the damp pockets of skin between shoulders or below collars. the hot weight of a limb thrown carelessly across my body.

fuck me.

on my mind

- there is a mouse in my room. and most disturbingly, it looks kind of cute scurrying from shadow to shadow.
- it is both a relief and a burden i decided to drop the teen-years drama i skipped the first time around smack in the middle of my otherwise incredibly okay 20s. a relief they have come and i am not some anomolous android and a massive waste of my fucking time.
- even i can only survive on left over pizza for so long
- i lied. there are two mice.
- i cried today. in front of someone. and he held me and pet my head. thank god the weirdness factor didnt surface until after. i would be even more bothered if he thought my weepy face was sexy.
- i know. we were doing so good. i am disappointed in myself.
- actually i am most disappointed that he's gone and got all hot on me. sneaky libido. i don't need this shit.
- also, this is my "artie strongest man in the world visits a stone circle" re-enactment:





i adore my newly rediscovered stupidity

have i finally converted to british?

i just got home from the pub (well, "tavern") where i stood around rubbing shoulders with a bunch of broguish musky men watching the champions league match; arsenal v. barcelona.

now i have always thought barcelona was an exceedingly sexy city, indeed, one of those exotic type places too cool even for tourists. but if their slackjawed nancy-boy forward is anything to go by, may i never set foot in spain.

but still. i swore, drank miller, and all in all almost felt like it was a november saturday but for the weird offside rule. its a shame football is so lame, but i've still signed up for the world cup pool at work. it may kill me, but i'l try goddamnit.



that said, i had a most excellent day.

speeddater visited me at work (to lend me equilibrium. yum.) where he was drooled over by co-workers (i love a good tease).

then got a text from hot scot, who has now finished novel three and is ready to party.

and rounded out the evening with a few sexy footballers and some chips and cheese with brown sauce.

sometimes part-time is best

i believe i may have prefected the random friend.

we only see each other every three months but we fall in like we bantered just yesterday, speed-dater and i.

it's like having a penpal, but in person.

someone you have a fleeting moment with, where anything is game from pop culture whims to confessional type memoirs. where it can all be true, since it'll have no bearing on your tomorrow.

today's menu was my adoption story to his paedophile teacher, but only after we agreed futurama is better television, but family guy is still funny.

and three hours later (full of haggis stuffed chicken and banoffee pie), knowing it'll be august before we do it again, we part ways in the sunshine.

epiphany of the day: the lucky shirt

while standing in the shower this afternoon, i realized a very important thing about myself.

fact:
with 50% (1) of the men (2) i have hooked up with (3) in the last year (4) i was wearing the same shirt.

where:
(1) 50% as in 5 out of 10
(2) i use the term loosely though their equipment defines them as masculine anatomically
(3) as in anything beyond second base (i know. but you come up with a better system then)
(4) 16 months but poetic licence is never more applicable when considering past partners

conclusion:
either the low neck navy polo was built for my tits or i desperately need a new wardrobe.

May Day mayday.

so beltane is amazing. and retarded. and possibly unhealthy. and yet, i'll always go and always kind of love it. contemporary pagan fertility rites are worth it.

not only is there traditional king stag-may queen orgytastic fun, there are giant penes (yes, like theses is the plural of thesis) and burning effigies and lots of naked pagans (who are really just bongo-hippies with less clothes and more fire) in red body paint who harass Neds.

best of all, in my version there is a flask of whiskey and pyromania. it was brilliant.

well, the part i remember. of course, after the bonfire and cigarettes i kind of have no recollection - especially the precarious climb down calton hill in the dark - and am hoping had i partaken (partook? partakEd?) in the orgiastic revelry it'd be more memorable.

but sadly, we can't all have pagan hippies with flaming swords.