And the special of the day is....
I have worked in hospitals for a very long time. They never feel like real hospitals to me, since I never see wards, and all the sights and smells one associates with hospitals. To me, I work in an office-type environment, with lots of computers and other high-tech pieces of equipment, where there just happen to be some "sick" people roaming around on occasion.
Today, when I went to purchase some lunch from the adjoining hospital canteen was honestly the first time I realised where I work. The fare on offer was the most repugnant, primordial sludge that I have had the displeasure to see termed rather remarkably as "food". Suppressing an urge to ask exactly what the steaming trays were meant to be, I decided quickly on a sandwich. At least there were ingredients I could identify.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
"Neurotic, paranoid, totally inadequate, completely insecure. It's a pleasure."
So here I am, three days post-blissful date, and still with no phone call from him*. I am driving myself insane with the myriad of questions that only I can seem to generate from one encounter. Did I do something wrong? Am I too young? Am I too old? Not pretty enough? Not smart enough? Too smart? Blah blah blah.
PSD has dutifully told to me to "Get over it!", urging me to relax. But then on the other shoulder is S stating, "If I was interested, I would have rung by now."
Great.
Of course, I am a chronic worrier when it comes to my dating life (or lack thereof). And the fact that he might have a life, is obviously irrelevant. To prove my sense of insanity at the moment, I came home from work with an incredibly urge to go for a run - and I did. Then when I came home, and washed my hair, I tried to lather the shampoo into my face.
Fucking great.
Luckily the plans for the rest of the evening involve me trying to inspect the bottom of this bottle.
*He hasn't earned a pseudonym yet, so consider it pending.
So here I am, three days post-blissful date, and still with no phone call from him*. I am driving myself insane with the myriad of questions that only I can seem to generate from one encounter. Did I do something wrong? Am I too young? Am I too old? Not pretty enough? Not smart enough? Too smart? Blah blah blah.
PSD has dutifully told to me to "Get over it!", urging me to relax. But then on the other shoulder is S stating, "If I was interested, I would have rung by now."
Great.
Of course, I am a chronic worrier when it comes to my dating life (or lack thereof). And the fact that he might have a life, is obviously irrelevant. To prove my sense of insanity at the moment, I came home from work with an incredibly urge to go for a run - and I did. Then when I came home, and washed my hair, I tried to lather the shampoo into my face.
Fucking great.
Luckily the plans for the rest of the evening involve me trying to inspect the bottom of this bottle.
*He hasn't earned a pseudonym yet, so consider it pending.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Date Preparations or "This? Oh, it is just some old thing I threw on."
I remember a time when getting ready for a nice night out meant merely checking one's attire and cleaning your teeth. As I get older, it seems to take a lot more effort. Not because of the ravages of age catching up with me, but more that I have differing expectations of what a date might eventually turn into.
So, I had a date on Sunday night, and spent part of the day firstly trying to recreate the hair-do that my hairdresser had so recently perfected the day before. Then I had to inspect my finger nails, finding them somewhat less than glamorous talons, I opted to merely "neaten" them up. It then became apparent that my toenails were in need of some attention. Upon inspecting my feet, I decided that a whole mini-pedicure was in order, which then highlighted the fact that a razor had not been near my legs in some weeks. Finally, I thought that should the evening take a turn towards bedtime shenanigans, I best look into some pubic topiary.
After a good deal of time, I was coiffed, polished, shaved, waxed, blow-dried, made-up and finally able to contemplate something to wear. Actual clothing by this time came as almost an anti-climax to my meticulous preparations. Especially, when "he" sent an SMS through a couple of hours before the date, saying "Don't gussy up too much, I am wearing jeans."
Nevertheless, I arrived at his place feeling suitably glam, to find that the lighting in the lift to his floor was the kind that one finds in establishments where you usually buy swimming costumes. By which I mean, absolutely hideous and meant to highlight every flaw in your visage. The best solution I found was to look away and stare dumbly at the numbers as I passed each floor. Thankfully, the journey in the lift was not particularly long - those numbers can only keep me amused for so long.
And how was the date? Divine. But alas, most of my preparations were not required. Fingers crossed for date number two!
I remember a time when getting ready for a nice night out meant merely checking one's attire and cleaning your teeth. As I get older, it seems to take a lot more effort. Not because of the ravages of age catching up with me, but more that I have differing expectations of what a date might eventually turn into.
So, I had a date on Sunday night, and spent part of the day firstly trying to recreate the hair-do that my hairdresser had so recently perfected the day before. Then I had to inspect my finger nails, finding them somewhat less than glamorous talons, I opted to merely "neaten" them up. It then became apparent that my toenails were in need of some attention. Upon inspecting my feet, I decided that a whole mini-pedicure was in order, which then highlighted the fact that a razor had not been near my legs in some weeks. Finally, I thought that should the evening take a turn towards bedtime shenanigans, I best look into some pubic topiary.
After a good deal of time, I was coiffed, polished, shaved, waxed, blow-dried, made-up and finally able to contemplate something to wear. Actual clothing by this time came as almost an anti-climax to my meticulous preparations. Especially, when "he" sent an SMS through a couple of hours before the date, saying "Don't gussy up too much, I am wearing jeans."
Nevertheless, I arrived at his place feeling suitably glam, to find that the lighting in the lift to his floor was the kind that one finds in establishments where you usually buy swimming costumes. By which I mean, absolutely hideous and meant to highlight every flaw in your visage. The best solution I found was to look away and stare dumbly at the numbers as I passed each floor. Thankfully, the journey in the lift was not particularly long - those numbers can only keep me amused for so long.
And how was the date? Divine. But alas, most of my preparations were not required. Fingers crossed for date number two!
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Left with nothing but kitty litter
For a little while now I have been contemplating getting a cat. The thought came about originally as part of my dissolution into becoming an "old woman with cats", which Max Liebermann makes look serene, rather than just a little pathetic.
After cat-sitting for S for a bit last year, I have even happened upon a breed that I quite like. But, as yet, I have still not taken the plunge and purchased my own little four-legged friend. The excuses are many and varied. I am away a lot, leaving a cat to the clutches of my flat-mate. I have never had a cat before, so am not quite sure what I am in for. I don't think my lease actually allows animals on the premises. These are all fairly sound excuses, but the over-riding factor for me not getting a cat yet is that I am scared it will leave me.
There is a scary little window into my psyche, n'est-ce pas?
Friday, September 23, 2005
Music to live and die by
A recent blog entry by one of my "must-reads" mentioned the words that one wants on their gravestone. I have never thought about the words I want to be remembered by, or for that matter the songs to play at my funeral. Do you want something melancholy or a rollicking good tune to have people humming and smiling?
What I do know is how one song can speak to you at the right time. That amazing coincidence of hearing something in the words and it just reaches in and grabs your heart-strings. A few months ago I began talking to a gentleman online. OK, nothing new there, but during our conversations, a rapport was struck. Needless to say, I quite like him. But putting that all to one side, he changed my life in one fundamental way by introducing me to a couple of songs.
These songs, one in particular, are simple tunes, but with words so amazing that they seem to touch my very soul. In a moment of pure schmaltz, we began typing the words of the song out on MSN to each other, taking it in turn to quote the next line. (Everyone can now return from their vomitoriums.) This song, "Nothing Rhymed", now has the dubious honour of being the most-played song on my iPod.
And here is a snippet to whet your appetites....
When I'm drinking my Bonaparte Shandy
Eating more than enough apple pies
Will I glance at my screen and see real human beings starve to death
Right in front of my eyes
Nothing old, nothing new, nothing ventured
Nothing gained, nothing still-born or lost,
Nothing further than proof nothing wilder than youth
Nothing physically, recklessly, hopelessly blind
Nothing I couldn't say
Nothing why 'cos today
Nothing rhymed
A little depressing maybe, but then again, the next song down the list on my iPod is Mozart's Lacrimosa. Beautiful lilting violins, like the dripping of tears.
Lacrimosa dies illa,
qua resurget ex favilla
judicandus homo reus,
lacrimosa dies illa,
qua resurget ex favilla
judicandus homo reus:
Huic ergo parce Deus,
Pie Jesu, Jesu Domine,
dona eis requiem,
dona eis, dona eis requiem.
Amen.
You think there is a common theme going on here?
A recent blog entry by one of my "must-reads" mentioned the words that one wants on their gravestone. I have never thought about the words I want to be remembered by, or for that matter the songs to play at my funeral. Do you want something melancholy or a rollicking good tune to have people humming and smiling?
What I do know is how one song can speak to you at the right time. That amazing coincidence of hearing something in the words and it just reaches in and grabs your heart-strings. A few months ago I began talking to a gentleman online. OK, nothing new there, but during our conversations, a rapport was struck. Needless to say, I quite like him. But putting that all to one side, he changed my life in one fundamental way by introducing me to a couple of songs.
These songs, one in particular, are simple tunes, but with words so amazing that they seem to touch my very soul. In a moment of pure schmaltz, we began typing the words of the song out on MSN to each other, taking it in turn to quote the next line. (Everyone can now return from their vomitoriums.) This song, "Nothing Rhymed", now has the dubious honour of being the most-played song on my iPod.
And here is a snippet to whet your appetites....
When I'm drinking my Bonaparte Shandy
Eating more than enough apple pies
Will I glance at my screen and see real human beings starve to death
Right in front of my eyes
Nothing old, nothing new, nothing ventured
Nothing gained, nothing still-born or lost,
Nothing further than proof nothing wilder than youth
Nothing physically, recklessly, hopelessly blind
Nothing I couldn't say
Nothing why 'cos today
Nothing rhymed
A little depressing maybe, but then again, the next song down the list on my iPod is Mozart's Lacrimosa. Beautiful lilting violins, like the dripping of tears.
Lacrimosa dies illa,
qua resurget ex favilla
judicandus homo reus,
lacrimosa dies illa,
qua resurget ex favilla
judicandus homo reus:
Huic ergo parce Deus,
Pie Jesu, Jesu Domine,
dona eis requiem,
dona eis, dona eis requiem.
Amen.
You think there is a common theme going on here?
Monday, September 19, 2005
Dirty words
I have long held a particular philosophical opposition to the word "cunt". Certainly not for any reasons of some missish-ness related to use of such vernacular. But because I find it offensive that the word considered the most vulgar word in the English language should be that which is used to describe female genitalia.
Someone can be a "bit of a dick", and it is good-humoured ribbing. Someone can "cock-up", and it is harsh, but not socially unforgivable. But call someone a "cunt", and it is considered the highest of insults. People who bandy about the word "fuck" with little thought, would often never think of using "cunt" in the same company. In fact, it seems that only a certain lower socio-economic demographic, and the porn community, use this word freely.
But I think I have happened upon another word that strikes fear into many people when uttered.
Relationship.
Yep, that's it. It seems that "relationship" is associated only with some sort of acknowledged amour, but it really is a generic term. Mention to a gentleman that you may have met for coffee, about your "relationship" with him, and he will immediately panic. But, of course, any connection or association with someone is a relationship. We might have a boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other, but we have hundreds of other relationships in our lives. I have a relationship with my flatmate, and with my colleagues, and with the people who serve me my brunch on the weekends regularly.
It is a word that is sadly misconstrued and all too often, used wrongly and without context.
Thus endeth the lesson.
I have long held a particular philosophical opposition to the word "cunt". Certainly not for any reasons of some missish-ness related to use of such vernacular. But because I find it offensive that the word considered the most vulgar word in the English language should be that which is used to describe female genitalia.
Someone can be a "bit of a dick", and it is good-humoured ribbing. Someone can "cock-up", and it is harsh, but not socially unforgivable. But call someone a "cunt", and it is considered the highest of insults. People who bandy about the word "fuck" with little thought, would often never think of using "cunt" in the same company. In fact, it seems that only a certain lower socio-economic demographic, and the porn community, use this word freely.
But I think I have happened upon another word that strikes fear into many people when uttered.
Relationship.
Yep, that's it. It seems that "relationship" is associated only with some sort of acknowledged amour, but it really is a generic term. Mention to a gentleman that you may have met for coffee, about your "relationship" with him, and he will immediately panic. But, of course, any connection or association with someone is a relationship. We might have a boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other, but we have hundreds of other relationships in our lives. I have a relationship with my flatmate, and with my colleagues, and with the people who serve me my brunch on the weekends regularly.
It is a word that is sadly misconstrued and all too often, used wrongly and without context.
Thus endeth the lesson.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Oh Yeah... there... that's it big boy!
It seems the most common type of sex that I get to have these days is virtual. Potentially depressing, but certainly avoids that messy post-coital talk and luke-warm promises. I find it amusing to think that attired in my shabbiest PJ's, sans makeup and perhaps in need of a little pubic topiary work, I can present a sexually-charged woman able to fulfill fantasies of a wide variety to an on-line beau. It has taken a while to get into the concept of virtual sex, and I vividly remember my "first time".
I had not long been separated, and too emotionally insecure to venture out and meet real men. Thus the avenue of on-line lovers made a nice segue into the eventual real world for me. So, I discovered a chat room of some type, where "consenting adults" could do their thing. Before too long, I was conducting trysts with three or four men at a time.
Luckily, I am a rather fast typer, so I could jump from one conversation window to the next with relative ease. My imagination had far more difficulty keeping up rather than my fingers. It never ceased to amaze me the variety of stories that these men would come up with. All manner of fantasies were played out, that rather than turning me on, more often than not, had me in stitches of laughter.
I have since found that on-line sex is hazardous to my health. Since I sit on a fit-ball when at the computer, I am prone to falling off rather ungraciously if things should become too amusing for me.
So be wary of who you are having on-line sex with, it might be me laughing haughtily at you. Of course, I might be on the floor after falling.
It seems the most common type of sex that I get to have these days is virtual. Potentially depressing, but certainly avoids that messy post-coital talk and luke-warm promises. I find it amusing to think that attired in my shabbiest PJ's, sans makeup and perhaps in need of a little pubic topiary work, I can present a sexually-charged woman able to fulfill fantasies of a wide variety to an on-line beau. It has taken a while to get into the concept of virtual sex, and I vividly remember my "first time".
I had not long been separated, and too emotionally insecure to venture out and meet real men. Thus the avenue of on-line lovers made a nice segue into the eventual real world for me. So, I discovered a chat room of some type, where "consenting adults" could do their thing. Before too long, I was conducting trysts with three or four men at a time.
Luckily, I am a rather fast typer, so I could jump from one conversation window to the next with relative ease. My imagination had far more difficulty keeping up rather than my fingers. It never ceased to amaze me the variety of stories that these men would come up with. All manner of fantasies were played out, that rather than turning me on, more often than not, had me in stitches of laughter.
I have since found that on-line sex is hazardous to my health. Since I sit on a fit-ball when at the computer, I am prone to falling off rather ungraciously if things should become too amusing for me.
So be wary of who you are having on-line sex with, it might be me laughing haughtily at you. Of course, I might be on the floor after falling.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
"Who does a girl have to kill around here to get some attention?"
The dating scene for me lately has been pretty light. I took myself off some of the internet dating sites I was using, as a way of perhaps garnering back some self-respect and keeping myself level headed about the messy business of finding a mate. In a moment of surprising clarity, the flatmate said, "Nature abhors a vacuum". Implying that by erasing some negative elements in my life, I can welcome in something new and beneficial. I have been waiting patiently for the new and fabulous stuff to begin, with nothing in sight. So, could nature hurry the fuck along a little with the positive shite?
The dating scene for me lately has been pretty light. I took myself off some of the internet dating sites I was using, as a way of perhaps garnering back some self-respect and keeping myself level headed about the messy business of finding a mate. In a moment of surprising clarity, the flatmate said, "Nature abhors a vacuum". Implying that by erasing some negative elements in my life, I can welcome in something new and beneficial. I have been waiting patiently for the new and fabulous stuff to begin, with nothing in sight. So, could nature hurry the fuck along a little with the positive shite?
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
"It's the most pointless book since How To Learn French was translated into French."
I often wonder whether the people who are quoted on the back of paperbacks have even read the book. I just finished an atrocious work of fiction, and was perturbed by the back cover's exclamations. One quote stated, "A hilarious riot". This bothered me both for the lack of "an" where "a" has been used, but it seemed clearly that the reviewer and I had read different books. The other quote, "A wise and witty read about the secret desires deep within us", seemed to give the book philosophical airs that I failed to note. The characters were selfish, and two-dimensional. The story lacked believability and depth, and felt wholly unsatisfying in its supposed humour.
The kicker is that I read the whole thing. In two days. Fuck I need a life.
I often wonder whether the people who are quoted on the back of paperbacks have even read the book. I just finished an atrocious work of fiction, and was perturbed by the back cover's exclamations. One quote stated, "A hilarious riot". This bothered me both for the lack of "an" where "a" has been used, but it seemed clearly that the reviewer and I had read different books. The other quote, "A wise and witty read about the secret desires deep within us", seemed to give the book philosophical airs that I failed to note. The characters were selfish, and two-dimensional. The story lacked believability and depth, and felt wholly unsatisfying in its supposed humour.
The kicker is that I read the whole thing. In two days. Fuck I need a life.
Monday, September 05, 2005
"Some days are diamonds...."
More often than not when someone says, "You ever have one of those days", it is quickly followed by a litany of disasters. The car blew up, they missed their bus, bad hair, fired from job. So it is with great pleasure that I say that I had one of the "those" days, and by which mean, that it was a pretty good day all round.
I woke up early (with an alarm, but not grumpy) and went for a walk in an effort to get a little healthier. I did an incredible amount of work, and felt very satisfied. Came home and cooked a yummy dinner while installing a new hard drive on my computer - and didn't blow it up (I am known for killing my motherboard and a modem via my touch alone!). Finally had a hoot and a holler at tap class learning steps to our new song, "Pennsylvania Polka".
See nothing too special, but just enough to make me feel good.
More often than not when someone says, "You ever have one of those days", it is quickly followed by a litany of disasters. The car blew up, they missed their bus, bad hair, fired from job. So it is with great pleasure that I say that I had one of the "those" days, and by which mean, that it was a pretty good day all round.
I woke up early (with an alarm, but not grumpy) and went for a walk in an effort to get a little healthier. I did an incredible amount of work, and felt very satisfied. Came home and cooked a yummy dinner while installing a new hard drive on my computer - and didn't blow it up (I am known for killing my motherboard and a modem via my touch alone!). Finally had a hoot and a holler at tap class learning steps to our new song, "Pennsylvania Polka".
See nothing too special, but just enough to make me feel good.
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