Thursday, June 29, 2006


I'm sick. And have a day off. And am on cold and flu meds. A combination that has led me to the couch and watching the best that Sky has to offer. If movies are to be beleived (and the Codrol is making me suspect they are), then I have some serious changes to make.... of which the Top Ten are:

10. Its completely normal for a mole to change from one side of my face to the other, for my shirt buttons operate of their own free will, or for my hair to re-arrange itself wildly in the space of a few seconds. No-one will comment or look strangely at me, or point out that I appear to have been the victim of an invisible stylist.
9. When I have finished a phone conversation, I must take the receiver from my ear and look intently at it for a few seconds, before replacing it on the cradle.
8. Men have nipples but no chest hair. Women have no nipples, and no body hair at all. When lying in bed, the sheet must reach the waist of the lad, and the armpits of the lass. I need to go out and purchase movie sheets. I'll consider the radical surgery/hair removal options later.
7. Whenever two people kiss, the music that has been playing softly in the background should swell to a sudden crescendo. We all need to start wearing headphones all the time, and reach for the volume control at the moment of lip lock.
6.My morning bedhead is never out of control, but is always cute in a kind of girlishly messy way. It needs to be, because the man must to smile at me in a tender loving way, and ruffle it. I am not allowed to smack him at this point.
5. Drugs are bad, apart from marijuana, which is merely amusing. Cigarettes are kind of cool, but immediately identify me as a potential bad girl, or a good girl in need of a savior. Alcohol is ok, but only one glass. Any more than that, and the film/life will involve Alcoholica Anonyma.
4.Which is ok, because that's a great place too. Within a week, I will realise what a mess my life has become and manage to completely turn it around, with the help of a handsome brooding artist/scruffy rock god/geeky intellectual type, with whom I shall then live happily ever after with, in a booze free, higher power lovin', twelve steppin' life. Word.
3.Anybody speaking in a foreign accent needs to be closely monitored. I'm not saying they are a spy. Or a terrorist. Or a member of a foreign royal family. But the fact remains that I need to treat them as if they are, because that's the only way to lull the *real* spies/terrorists/royalty into a false sense of security, and bring them out of hiding. The real spies/terrorists/royalty will then speak in their true, foreign accent, which they were taught to hide at spy/terrorist/royalty school, and can be identified. And tortured/shot/married.
2. Identify the country you live in. In America, the lead character is entitled to a vanilla happy ending. In the UK, they may be bound for despair, but they'll get there with humour and irony, which has its advantages from an aesthetic point of view. In India, the ability to break into mass song and dance routines is mandatory. In NZ, it's a bit of a lottery. You may end up losing a finger, your entire family, swinging from the Empire States building, wrestling with a camp hobbit, running mad in a yellow mini, or just getting very, very very drunk. I may move to France, where I'll be very unhappy, but look ever so stylish.
1. As a female of a scientific persuasion, I am letting my side down. I apologise profusely, and shall henceforth go out and practise in my tailored labcoat, designer skirt, long loose hair and expensive glasses. I have taken Physics for Veterinary Studies 101, which equips me to dismantle an atomic bomb, jump start a lambourgini, and hack into the security system of the UN and Interpol. I vow to always look serious or concerned, as a true scientist should. I am only allowed to smile at the end of the movie, when I turn up the volume on my headphones.

I'm turning the TV off now.

Le Fromage

Because sometimes going to the supermarket is too much trouble. Because there's nothing like creative mold farming at home. And because dicing with fungal spores (Toxic? Non toxic? Let's spin the wheel!) is more fun than showing your red bikini clad ass to the Pamplona bulls....
Lets make blue cheese at home!

(I particularly love the fact that making cheese at home apparently requires vodka, handkerchiefs, and a phillips screwdriver. So does my favorite party game, come to that.)

Sunday, June 25, 2006


Mmmm. Red wine. Lovely, lovely red wine. Well, nasty, cheapy red wine, actually, being that I was on rather a budget when I visited the local House O'Red Wine. Still, after three glasses I am pleasantly suprised to find that with the slightly swimmy floaty head sensation is also coming an unclenching of teeth, a relaxing of muscles, and a general 'thank fuck that week is over' feeling.

Still, it realy wasn't that bad a week. Animals were saved, some of them with all limbs intact. Some of them will have to wear fluorescent bandages on their legs, like bad 80's leg warmers. Some of them have pins and wires sticking out of them, like someone sterilised a Meccano set for me to fix 'em up with. But apart from the crazy lady who was grumpy at me because I managed to save her cat's tooth ("I would never have had the dental done unless he needed a tooth out!"), I think I leave the week with people happy, animals wagging or purring, according to their genetic preferences (though not sure what noise Ruby, the snake necked tortoise is making), and everyone still alive.

That'll do, Pig. That'll do.

Friday, June 23, 2006


My pirate name is:

Black Morgan Bonney

Like anyone confronted with the harshness of robbery on the high seas, you can be pessimistic at times. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Maps and messes.

"What's wrong?" he says.
I have a big tangled knot in my head, like a snarl of wool. How do I know which of the loose ends is the one that leads to the problem?
In his head he has a neat pattern, little streets signposted, red and blue cars driving on the correct side of the road, obeying traffic signals and the road code. If something was wrong with him, which there isn't, and I asked, which I don't, he could tell me.
"Nothing" I say.

I wonder if they make Johnson and Johnson's No More Tears for the mind?