I don't normally do these but I was sent a really clever 'My Life According to Neil Young' by my friend Tony.
Basically, you have to answer a set of questions using only the song names from one artist/band and you can't repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think! I went for...........
My life according to Yo La Tengo
1. Are you a male or female?
Griselda
2. Describe yourself:
Superstar Watcher
3. How do you feel?
Tired Hippo
4. Describe where you currently live
3 Blocks From Groove Street
5. If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
Detouring America With Horns
6. Your best friend?
My Heart's Reflection
7. You and your best friends are:
We're an American Band
8. What's the weather like?
Winter A Go-Go
9. Favourite time of day?
When It's Dark
10. If your life was a TV show, what would it be called?
My Little Corner Of The World
11. What is life to you?
Beach Party Tonight
12. Your relationship?
Nothing But Me & You
13. Your fear?
Season Of The Shark
14. What is the best advice you have to give?
How To Make A Baby Elephant Float
15. Thought for the Day:
Sometimes I Don't Get You
16. How I would like to die:
Pass the Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind
17. My soul's present condition:
More Stars Than There Are in Heaven
18. My motto:
Today is the day
So, those were mine. Why don't you give it a go?
Mr Me's Life According to Paul Weller to follow.
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
OK so it's not exactly new but..................
I'm conscious that I haven't had either the time or the energy to write anything new and I'm starting to think that I should've just stuck to my original blog and left it at that but...................I've committed myself now haven't I. You wouldn't mind if I cheated a bit would you? No. Why thank you.
My other blog was all about the time I gave up food for 100 days so, whilst my brain is too pain killer addled for anything new, here's a bitesized slice from said blog.
Day One - Also to be known as the day I discovered lumps!!
After two G&Ts and two bottles of wine is it any wonder that I woke up this morning with a slight hangover. And my first thoughts on waking - God I need a hangover cure. A bacon butty or a fry up or something. Then my husband rolled over in bed and said "You're not allowed milk are you? Guess that means you can't have a cup of tea then" "thanks for reminding me. I'll have black coffee" I replied with what was, I think you'll agree, amazing restraint all things considered.
Now the LL programme says that you have to have four of their soup or shake food packs a day but you can't have one of the food bars until day 4 which is just great when you've got a hangover.
Having put the nut crunch bar back in my LL bag (yes you get a snazzy bag and everything. Small things, as they say) I opted for a vanilla shake for breakfast and promptly nearly threw my alcoholic guts up! No it wasn't the taste, that was actually quite nice. It was because I hadn't mixed it properly and kept getting a mouth full of lumpy, powdery awfulness. Vile, but I had to drink it. So I opted for the tried and tested method used the world over - I held my nose, tipped my head back, poured it down my throat, tried not to chew any lumps and finally held my hand over my mouth to stop from throwing it back up again.
I'm glad to say that the day did improve after that. Work was a welcome distraction to the lack of food and I was starting to like the taste of black tea. I looked scornfully at the cakes & biscuits in the staff room - you can't tempt me you sugary delicacies from hell. I'm hardcore. I'm a Lighter Lifer - and didn't feel at all phased by my colleagues cheerfully munching donuts around me.
Lunch, a Thai chili soup - more lumps. God I hope I get better at making these things - was ok though not sure I'd have gone for that option in a restaurant. In fact everything was going great guns until about 3pm when the hangover came back for a second visit and brought it's friend tiredness along for the ride. I needed a caffeine fix but was now yearning for a milky coffee and no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on work, all I could think about was food. Not just any food but onion rings. Those crispy little circles of savory goodness. Stop it, Stop it, Stop it. Again with the self torture?!?
Somehow I not only managed to get through the afternoon but I also came home and cooked my husband his dinner (You'll have to guess what it was - I'm not falling in to that trap again) whilst I prepared my chicken soup pack and poured my 6th pint of water. Did I mention that you have to drink a minimum of 8 pints of water a day on this diet? No. Sorry I meant to but my teeth were starting to float and I had to pay a trip to the little girls room instead!
I have one more food pack left to go today - might have a raspberry shake or maybe a hot chocolate before bed. The choices are endless! And then it starts all over again tomorrow. Well, that's all for tonight. I'm tired and I figure I can't actually punish myself by thinking about food if I'm asleep can I - unless of course I start to dream about it. Shouldn't have said that, have probably jinxed myself now.
Today's final thoughts: Positive - I am looking forward to spending some serious cash on some sexy as hell lingerie which really shouldn't be covered up with clothing.
Negative - God I hope my boobs don't shrink. I love them just as they are.
My other blog was all about the time I gave up food for 100 days so, whilst my brain is too pain killer addled for anything new, here's a bitesized slice from said blog.
Day One - Also to be known as the day I discovered lumps!!
After two G&Ts and two bottles of wine is it any wonder that I woke up this morning with a slight hangover. And my first thoughts on waking - God I need a hangover cure. A bacon butty or a fry up or something. Then my husband rolled over in bed and said "You're not allowed milk are you? Guess that means you can't have a cup of tea then" "thanks for reminding me. I'll have black coffee" I replied with what was, I think you'll agree, amazing restraint all things considered.
Now the LL programme says that you have to have four of their soup or shake food packs a day but you can't have one of the food bars until day 4 which is just great when you've got a hangover.
Having put the nut crunch bar back in my LL bag (yes you get a snazzy bag and everything. Small things, as they say) I opted for a vanilla shake for breakfast and promptly nearly threw my alcoholic guts up! No it wasn't the taste, that was actually quite nice. It was because I hadn't mixed it properly and kept getting a mouth full of lumpy, powdery awfulness. Vile, but I had to drink it. So I opted for the tried and tested method used the world over - I held my nose, tipped my head back, poured it down my throat, tried not to chew any lumps and finally held my hand over my mouth to stop from throwing it back up again.
I'm glad to say that the day did improve after that. Work was a welcome distraction to the lack of food and I was starting to like the taste of black tea. I looked scornfully at the cakes & biscuits in the staff room - you can't tempt me you sugary delicacies from hell. I'm hardcore. I'm a Lighter Lifer - and didn't feel at all phased by my colleagues cheerfully munching donuts around me.
Lunch, a Thai chili soup - more lumps. God I hope I get better at making these things - was ok though not sure I'd have gone for that option in a restaurant. In fact everything was going great guns until about 3pm when the hangover came back for a second visit and brought it's friend tiredness along for the ride. I needed a caffeine fix but was now yearning for a milky coffee and no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on work, all I could think about was food. Not just any food but onion rings. Those crispy little circles of savory goodness. Stop it, Stop it, Stop it. Again with the self torture?!?
Somehow I not only managed to get through the afternoon but I also came home and cooked my husband his dinner (You'll have to guess what it was - I'm not falling in to that trap again) whilst I prepared my chicken soup pack and poured my 6th pint of water. Did I mention that you have to drink a minimum of 8 pints of water a day on this diet? No. Sorry I meant to but my teeth were starting to float and I had to pay a trip to the little girls room instead!
I have one more food pack left to go today - might have a raspberry shake or maybe a hot chocolate before bed. The choices are endless! And then it starts all over again tomorrow. Well, that's all for tonight. I'm tired and I figure I can't actually punish myself by thinking about food if I'm asleep can I - unless of course I start to dream about it. Shouldn't have said that, have probably jinxed myself now.
Today's final thoughts: Positive - I am looking forward to spending some serious cash on some sexy as hell lingerie which really shouldn't be covered up with clothing.
Negative - God I hope my boobs don't shrink. I love them just as they are.
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
The hormonal eating monster!
Is it just me?!?
I'm about to take a ride on my menstrual cycle and was just thinking about how bloody (no pun intended) annoying having a period actually is.
For one thing there's the whole 'period bra'. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one but I go up almost a whole cup size and my breasts aren't exactly small in their normal state. It's ridiculous! Over the years, Mr Me has come to accept that this increase in size, whilst wholly tempting, is completely out of bounds. If he so much as dares to touch them I am likely to punch his lights out.
And that's another thing, what's with all this sodding pain? I'm seriously tempted to invent period shoes. Each one would have a large steel scaffolding pole with a cup attached to the top for me to rest my breasts on. Probably needs a bit more thought though - not sure how walking would work?!? Failing that I'd like a very small man (or woman. I'm not sexist) to stand on my shoes, like little girls do when they're dancing with their fathers, and just hold them for me. Hopefully it would take some of the weight off my aching back.
With the 'period bra' comes the 'period blouse'. Tops which are purchased specifically for this time of the month so that the buttons don't gape open when I least want them to.
Oh, and then there are the 'period pants'. OK, so I've already admitted to being a bit obsessed with pants so I'm happy to report that there aren't any Bridget's in my drawers but even I have a special range of comedy underwear for this particular time of the month. My current favourites have Woodstock & Snoopy on them though I am partial to my Betty Boops.
Thankfully I don't suffer monthly skin breakouts but, even if I did, I think it would be perfectly acceptable. After all, I'm not exactly at my most attractive in my comedy pants and reinforced bra. At least I don't feel very attractive anyway.
Though, somewhat ironically, I have got the raging horn! Mother Nature has such a great sense of humour.
Have I mentioned cravings yet?
I don't think I've stopped eating today. Starchy, heavy, carb loaded food and chocolate. Lots and lots and lots of chocolate. Um, and about 6 packets of Refreshers. When I get home tonight I'm having chips a pea fritter and I may just ask the nice chip shop man for a bag of batter bits. Any other time and the very thought would make me green - with sickness, not envy.
Oh, and seeing as how I'm on the subject....................................there was a moan coming there but I've managed to pull my horns back in and the trident has remained in my handbag!
I'm off to forage for pie & chocolate.
I'm about to take a ride on my menstrual cycle and was just thinking about how bloody (no pun intended) annoying having a period actually is.
For one thing there's the whole 'period bra'. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one but I go up almost a whole cup size and my breasts aren't exactly small in their normal state. It's ridiculous! Over the years, Mr Me has come to accept that this increase in size, whilst wholly tempting, is completely out of bounds. If he so much as dares to touch them I am likely to punch his lights out.
And that's another thing, what's with all this sodding pain? I'm seriously tempted to invent period shoes. Each one would have a large steel scaffolding pole with a cup attached to the top for me to rest my breasts on. Probably needs a bit more thought though - not sure how walking would work?!? Failing that I'd like a very small man (or woman. I'm not sexist) to stand on my shoes, like little girls do when they're dancing with their fathers, and just hold them for me. Hopefully it would take some of the weight off my aching back.
With the 'period bra' comes the 'period blouse'. Tops which are purchased specifically for this time of the month so that the buttons don't gape open when I least want them to.
Oh, and then there are the 'period pants'. OK, so I've already admitted to being a bit obsessed with pants so I'm happy to report that there aren't any Bridget's in my drawers but even I have a special range of comedy underwear for this particular time of the month. My current favourites have Woodstock & Snoopy on them though I am partial to my Betty Boops.
Thankfully I don't suffer monthly skin breakouts but, even if I did, I think it would be perfectly acceptable. After all, I'm not exactly at my most attractive in my comedy pants and reinforced bra. At least I don't feel very attractive anyway.
Though, somewhat ironically, I have got the raging horn! Mother Nature has such a great sense of humour.
Have I mentioned cravings yet?
I don't think I've stopped eating today. Starchy, heavy, carb loaded food and chocolate. Lots and lots and lots of chocolate. Um, and about 6 packets of Refreshers. When I get home tonight I'm having chips a pea fritter and I may just ask the nice chip shop man for a bag of batter bits. Any other time and the very thought would make me green - with sickness, not envy.
Oh, and seeing as how I'm on the subject....................................there was a moan coming there but I've managed to pull my horns back in and the trident has remained in my handbag!
I'm off to forage for pie & chocolate.
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
Headless mice, screaming frogs and SAS cats.
On Twitter recently I confessed to having attempted to give a mouse the kiss of life having rescued it from the jaws of a cat. I gave it a bit of peach & blew JD fumes up it's nose. It died!
I gave it a very drunken burial in the garden. Did I mention I was drunk?!?
The next morning I nearly stepped on it's muddy, cat spit sodden body as I made my way to the kitchen in search of a hangover cure. I'm assuming that JD fumes & peach aren't hoodoo enough to create a zombie mouse & that one of the cats had decided that an exhumation was in order.
These particular cats made my life very interesting.....................
A very long time ago I moved in to a house with my friend Sam and her two cats, Gizmo & Tabitha (aka G&T). Our other friend Sally also moved in with us and we lived in a wonderful, fluffy, pink girly world - most of the time.
G&T were 2 years old and had spent their whole lives - up to that point - as flat cats. No they didn't arrive wrapped in cardboard and requiring self assembly. Sheesh!
They'd never been outside before and our new orchard of a back garden was a weird and wonderful place with lots of strange and frightening creatures - for all of about 3 days! After which they morphed into bloodthirsty killing machines & I secretly renamed them
Ian & Myra.
There didn't seem to be anything these cats wouldn't maim or kill or terrorise - including the bulldog over the back fence and whose sole responsibility was to protect it's owners prize doves.
It failed, many many many times.
I could often be found climbing over said fence with a dove tucked under my arm. (Ooh, that reminds me of my wedding night when I was climbing over hotel balconies with a kettle under my arm - if you ask me, I'll tell you)
I think it was on the fifth time of returning one of these doves that my neighbour said "I don't know how your cats get in. How they gets past the dog and under the wire fencing. Are you breeding S A fucking S cats over there or something?" I think we officially became the neighbours from hell at that point.
Which leads me to a question - Have you ever heard the noise a frog makes when it's being tortured by SAS cats?
They scream. Like a baby or a really small child screams. It's the most horrific sound & all the more terrible if you've never heard it before and are woken up, in the middle of the night, by the sound of a 'child' screaming AND it's coming from the direction of your lounge.
Did I mention that G&T were identical twins? Well, it's fairly relevant to this story so I should have done.
That night, I crept to the lounge and threw the light on. In the middle of the floor were G&T half sitting, half laying, facing each and between them sat the biggest, ugliest frog I've ever seen and that frog was screaming.
G&T were playing a tortuous game of 'smack' with the poor thing. One would stick it's nose up against the frogs face and then smack it on the head. The frog would scream & hop/spin 180 only to be met with the face & smack of an identical cat whereupon it would scream again and do another hop/spin 180. Poor bloody thing. No matter which way it turned it must have felt like it couldn't get away from this horrible sniffy, smacky cat.
Once I was over the shock, I broke that party up and rescued said frog only to find it the next morning squashed beneath the tyre of Sally's car! I suspect it probably had post traumatic stress disorder threw itself under her wheels.
Want to hear a frog scream? www.youtube.com/watch?v=948rhsRvIkw Not the best example but you get the idea.
G&T would regularly bring us fresh squishy deliveries and there was once a morning when I opened my eyes, having had a glorious sleep, only to be confronted with the headless body of a mouse on my pillow, right next to my cheek. Trust me, you really don't want to see a mouse's innards, not before breakfast at least anyway.
Thankfully I now have two of the most apathetic cats when it comes to hunting. The only thing they ever bring me is leaves. I did find them playing with a may bug in the hallway once but I'm pretty sure it had made it's own way into the house by accident.
Sometimes it would be nice to have hunters again, if only to keep the daddy long legs & moth population under control. Ultimately, though, I like to imagine them throwing the cat equivalent of a peace sign & conscientiously objecting but I suspect that they are just too damn lazy.
I gave it a very drunken burial in the garden. Did I mention I was drunk?!?
The next morning I nearly stepped on it's muddy, cat spit sodden body as I made my way to the kitchen in search of a hangover cure. I'm assuming that JD fumes & peach aren't hoodoo enough to create a zombie mouse & that one of the cats had decided that an exhumation was in order.
These particular cats made my life very interesting.....................
A very long time ago I moved in to a house with my friend Sam and her two cats, Gizmo & Tabitha (aka G&T). Our other friend Sally also moved in with us and we lived in a wonderful, fluffy, pink girly world - most of the time.
G&T were 2 years old and had spent their whole lives - up to that point - as flat cats. No they didn't arrive wrapped in cardboard and requiring self assembly. Sheesh!
They'd never been outside before and our new orchard of a back garden was a weird and wonderful place with lots of strange and frightening creatures - for all of about 3 days! After which they morphed into bloodthirsty killing machines & I secretly renamed them
Ian & Myra.
There didn't seem to be anything these cats wouldn't maim or kill or terrorise - including the bulldog over the back fence and whose sole responsibility was to protect it's owners prize doves.
It failed, many many many times.
I could often be found climbing over said fence with a dove tucked under my arm. (Ooh, that reminds me of my wedding night when I was climbing over hotel balconies with a kettle under my arm - if you ask me, I'll tell you)
I think it was on the fifth time of returning one of these doves that my neighbour said "I don't know how your cats get in. How they gets past the dog and under the wire fencing. Are you breeding S A fucking S cats over there or something?" I think we officially became the neighbours from hell at that point.
Which leads me to a question - Have you ever heard the noise a frog makes when it's being tortured by SAS cats?
They scream. Like a baby or a really small child screams. It's the most horrific sound & all the more terrible if you've never heard it before and are woken up, in the middle of the night, by the sound of a 'child' screaming AND it's coming from the direction of your lounge.
Did I mention that G&T were identical twins? Well, it's fairly relevant to this story so I should have done.
That night, I crept to the lounge and threw the light on. In the middle of the floor were G&T half sitting, half laying, facing each and between them sat the biggest, ugliest frog I've ever seen and that frog was screaming.
G&T were playing a tortuous game of 'smack' with the poor thing. One would stick it's nose up against the frogs face and then smack it on the head. The frog would scream & hop/spin 180 only to be met with the face & smack of an identical cat whereupon it would scream again and do another hop/spin 180. Poor bloody thing. No matter which way it turned it must have felt like it couldn't get away from this horrible sniffy, smacky cat.
Once I was over the shock, I broke that party up and rescued said frog only to find it the next morning squashed beneath the tyre of Sally's car! I suspect it probably had post traumatic stress disorder threw itself under her wheels.
Want to hear a frog scream? www.youtube.com/watch?v=948rhsRvIkw Not the best example but you get the idea.
G&T would regularly bring us fresh squishy deliveries and there was once a morning when I opened my eyes, having had a glorious sleep, only to be confronted with the headless body of a mouse on my pillow, right next to my cheek. Trust me, you really don't want to see a mouse's innards, not before breakfast at least anyway.
Thankfully I now have two of the most apathetic cats when it comes to hunting. The only thing they ever bring me is leaves. I did find them playing with a may bug in the hallway once but I'm pretty sure it had made it's own way into the house by accident.
Sometimes it would be nice to have hunters again, if only to keep the daddy long legs & moth population under control. Ultimately, though, I like to imagine them throwing the cat equivalent of a peace sign & conscientiously objecting but I suspect that they are just too damn lazy.
Monday, 8 June 2009
Hello, my name is Sassy and I’m addicted to pants.
Now that’s out of the way, here’s a few other things you should know about me before you decide to invest any of your valuable time reading this blog……….
· I can’t ride a bicycle unless there’s a trombone strapped to the back of it.
· I am convinced that marzipan was created by Satan & no-one can persuade me otherwise.
· I love almonds. Which is weird considering the marzipan issue.
· I have a friend called Lulu who describes me as being like a wind up toy. Wind my key and watch me go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, stop.
· I was County & National champion at 100m Freestyle, for many years, and my father used to say that I was built like a race horse. Never did quite understand that one. Something to do with having legs up to my arm pits I think?!?
· I was a late bloomer and my breasts took my by surprise by deciding to make a sudden & unexpected appearance at the age of 17.
· Men stopped looking me in the eye when I turned 17!
· I gave up swimming when I was 17. Actually, I think these are in the wrong order and the previous 2 points wouldn’t have existed without this one.
· I’m essentially lazy and, as a result, won’t be updating this blog with any regularity.
· I’ll pretty much eat anything once but if you come near me with marzipan or toblerone then you’d better be prepared to bring it!
· Most of the time I’m either thinking about food or sex or both. Or sleep.
· It takes a hell of a lot to make me angry but when I blow you’d better be ducking & covering
· I’m not as clever or smart or funny or dazzling as I’d like to be.
· I’ve always fancied bass players but married a drummer.
· Yes I have a sense of humour – see point above.
· I play a mean game of Uno Extreme.
So, now that you know these things about me I’m going to start counting and if you’re still here by the time I get to 5 then you’re mine…….one………two…………three…………….ooh did someone say pie?!?
Now that’s out of the way, here’s a few other things you should know about me before you decide to invest any of your valuable time reading this blog……….
· I can’t ride a bicycle unless there’s a trombone strapped to the back of it.
· I am convinced that marzipan was created by Satan & no-one can persuade me otherwise.
· I love almonds. Which is weird considering the marzipan issue.
· I have a friend called Lulu who describes me as being like a wind up toy. Wind my key and watch me go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, stop.
· I was County & National champion at 100m Freestyle, for many years, and my father used to say that I was built like a race horse. Never did quite understand that one. Something to do with having legs up to my arm pits I think?!?
· I was a late bloomer and my breasts took my by surprise by deciding to make a sudden & unexpected appearance at the age of 17.
· Men stopped looking me in the eye when I turned 17!
· I gave up swimming when I was 17. Actually, I think these are in the wrong order and the previous 2 points wouldn’t have existed without this one.
· I’m essentially lazy and, as a result, won’t be updating this blog with any regularity.
· I’ll pretty much eat anything once but if you come near me with marzipan or toblerone then you’d better be prepared to bring it!
· Most of the time I’m either thinking about food or sex or both. Or sleep.
· It takes a hell of a lot to make me angry but when I blow you’d better be ducking & covering
· I’m not as clever or smart or funny or dazzling as I’d like to be.
· I’ve always fancied bass players but married a drummer.
· Yes I have a sense of humour – see point above.
· I play a mean game of Uno Extreme.
So, now that you know these things about me I’m going to start counting and if you’re still here by the time I get to 5 then you’re mine…….one………two…………three…………….ooh did someone say pie?!?
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