Puppy Love

Forever ago (okay, last Friday, but that's a lot of scrolling down on Pink is the New Blog!) Paris Hilton was spotted out and about with her new pups, and by that I mean the canine variety not breast implants you seedy bunch! How cute are they, and how vomit-inducing are those boots? Now anyone who knows me will tell you that I am crazy about ickle doggies, I love it when they trot along on their cute little legs, they look all perky and happy! But as we all know, Paris' dogs aren't allowed to walk all by themselves but need to be carried around like a small Louis Vuitton purse, or indeed inside a small Louis Vuitton purse. Some dogs have their own Louis Vuitton regalia, I refer you now to Jessica Simpson's ever-fashionable dog Daisy. If you're unfamiliar with Newlyweds, you can watch some serious overspending here.

Puppy has no expensive accessories, but if I were to splash out I would go in a different direction and look into getting him some doggles! I did once dress him in a stripey jumper, but it was a hideous one my sister bought me for my birthday - so hideous I think I must have pissed her off to deserve it! - and we put it on the dog for a laugh, crazy rebels as we are! I also attempted to buy him a parka but we couldn't get one to fit him :( I really don't think a lack of designer togs has bothered Puppy much. Materialism just isn't his bag; the only question Pup will ask of something is: can I eat it? Or maybe, in the case of the parka, does it make my bum look big?

For Christmas we've got Puppy a box of treats, and after today I think he deserves it! Although at first glance this tale will seem to warrant punishment rather than reward, I derived a strange sense of satisfaction, tinged with sadism, from the following events. Firstly, you should know that poor Puppy, despite his pseudonym, is actually a little Old Timer for his breed, and is now on water tablets that make him drink and pee a lot. This morning, he peed in the house, which he NEVER does. Boyf discovered him; we are in mid-argument and he is in mid-grovel, and what with my hand injury I couldn't possibly do it (tee hee) so Naughty Boyf had to clean up Puppy's widdle! Ahhhhhhh, Life Is Just. See how loyal my dog is?

Incidentally, if you follow the link to Pink is the New Blog, you can also see documentary evidence of Mariah Carey in a high neckline - no baps on display! I was deeply shocked. Also, GREAT pictures of Mr. Jake G. for which I am grateful as ever. I think I should introduce Tink to Pink, she loves The Simple Life and I ordered Nicole Richie's The Truth About Diamonds (in which Pink gets a mention) for her for Christmas. Surely that's wisdom enough for an Aunt to pass down to her nieces?

PostModern. PostColonial. PostSecret

How come when I'm settling down to do some major (pah!) work on my dissertation I can't seem to resist at least an hour of visiting distracting websites first, or indeed, instead? Oh, that's right, because I'm lazy and couldn't give a fug about my dissertation topic anymore! Gotcha.

It's beginning to look a lot like... Santa's Grotto!

It's a mere week away, but it really doesn't feel like Christmas for me yet. Note that I started referring to my bro-in-law as The Grinch Who Stole Christmas way back in March! However, I've decided that the fucker isn't getting the satisfaction, and finished off my Christmas shopping today. I finally - finally! - got my sisters sorted, but at the heavy price of buying a Scary Carey CD. See how much I love my sis that I swallow my pride and my dignity and order The Greatest Ti- I mean Hits?

Also for my Mariah-loving sister, DKNY's Be Delicious - and it is! I'd like this if I didn't already have more perfume than you can shake a stick at. Have you noticed that in the advert she doesn't pay for the apple though?

As for my other big sis, I was completely clueless as to what to get her until I bought my Take That tickets at 9 am on the dot on Friday morning!!!!! I am far too excited about this! As soon as I got them I text my sister to tell her I was officially 15 again, whereupon she text me back to tell me what a bitch I was since she was at that moment trying to get tickets for me, her, and Tink. I had no idea she wanted to go, so I'd arranged to go with Guillermo, who was quite drunk at the time he agreed :P She was green with envy upon discovering that Sugababes were to be the supporting act, and so I've got her the next best thing - Sugababes tickets! I love it when a plan comes together.

I've spent a bloody fortune over the last couple of days! I also found my Pink Nintendo DS at Toys 'R' Us after a trip to Ikea yesterday! My poor Boyf has searched the entire country for it as he's been working away in London and everywhere, and they had shitloads of them in Warrington! So I cancelled my order with Amazon, since now I can have it for Christmas :) *chuffed*

(As I blog, I'm helping this guy from Brazil who somehow made his way onto my MSN contact list translate his business proposal into English!)

News item: Shopping with straight men is nigh on impossible. I went with Boyf today and he got really stressed out because I looked at three different silk scarves for his grandmother instead of just buying the first one I saw. They were all in the same shop! Needless to say, the boots were not to be found. January Sales, I hear you calling to me already. I do kind of see Boyf's point though since his nan bloody gives everything away - I was in effect deliberating over a gift for a complete stranger, one of her neighbours or someone down the Legion! We cut the shopping short and went to get some grub instead; Boyf ordered a bottle of wine before we'd even sat down or heard the specials :P I cannot wait to give him his kayak!

Ooh-ooh, the X Factor Final!

Nightmare before Christmas

Not last night but the night before, I had a dream about my Granddad. I can't tell you how much I loved my Granddad - quite simply he was the cat's pyjamas. Anyhoo, the dream wasn't very straightforward and wasn't even mainly about him; it also included a plane crash or very bad turbulence (a common theme in my dreams, and probably prompted by Lost) and me cooking sweetcorn. But in one part of the dream, my Granddad was lying down on the stairs. He was lying at the top of the stairs, but with his head facing the foot of them. He wasn't sliding down them or anything and it seemed perfectly feasible that he should be having a rest on the stairs. It was dark, and I lay down next to him. I think I realised it was a dream at this point or started to wake up, because I was trying to remember what he smelt like and was imagining his grey jumper.

From How to Build Stairs. I shit you not.

But the point of my story is this: dream analysis and word association can be a tricky combination. I was thinking about the dream in bed in the early hours of this morning. Remembering when it was - not last night but the night before - reminded me of a rhyme in a Stephen King novel. I think it goes: late last night and the night before, Tommyknockers, Tommyknockers, knocking at your door. Which in turn reminded me of this scary ass ditty from Identity:

When I was walking up the stairs,
I met a man who wasn't there,
He wasn't there again today,
I wish I wish he'd go away.

Yup, I know how to freak myself out good! Bedroom light went back on at this point.

Conversations at 5 AM

And the award for the weirdest MSN conversation of my lifetime goes to...



David. But that's our little secret. You know, on my wall is a card from flowers you sent me on a long-ago Valentines Day. It says: "Thanks for being a great friend. You know when to cheer me up and when to kick my ass." I hope that's still true, and you can kick my ass if you feel the need! love, Chica x

Also, the tetanus shot I spoke of was IN MY ARM, thank you very much! Sheesh.

Trivial Pursuit

Believe it or not, there has been stuff happening in our lives other than having our house used as a thoroughfare in the recent brick throwing competition. The decorating continues. I'll be forced to kill the next person who suggests that brick red would be a good colour, even though I said it first. This means that we are yet to put the Christmas tree up! Sacrilege.

Last Thursday, the guy with the velvet blazer asked me what time my break was and if I'd like to have coffee with him. We all know that coffee is code for sex, so I slapped him across the face... oh okay, not really. I went bright red and mumbled something about going shopping on my break. He is really quite cute you know! He was sporting a green corduroy cap that day, and asked if I'd been off work cos he hadn't seen me for ages, "and I've been looking - I missed you." Dude is too cool for school! He always catches me when I look rubbish or am squinting at a computer screen or something... um, not that I care of course :P He also commented that I'm always smiling, which is what that other bloke who chatted me up said - is this just a very common line or could it be true? Maybe I'm randomly smiling at blokes and giving them the wrong impression!

Thursday I also attempted some late night shopping, but only lasted a coupla hours. I bumped into Weezer, who, I don't think I've mentioned, is dating 70s-Thinks-he's-a-Pimp! Grossness. Shop assistants are evil on Thursday nights too. Everyone who served me was downright rude, even in, like, Thorntons. What gives? I tried a dress on in Jane Norman that looked horrendous, drooled over a couple of dresses around the £100 mark in French Connection, and tried some more dresses on in Miss Selfridge. One of them was particularly nice, a navy colour with great straps, but it was a bit showy in the sense that I felt like wearing it was akin to wearing a sandwich board bearing the proclamation: hello, I have breasts! This effort at finding a suitable outfit was in honour of the Xmas do; but when I got home I managed to find something quite fitting for the occasion in the dark recesses of my wardrobe. Not that it mattered in the end!

Friday, I heard from Peter of Thornfield Hall, and was greatly relieved to learn that they offered the job to the girl who was dressed like a dog's dinner, despite my "very obvious skills." He wrote me a really nice letter and said how much he enjoyed meeting me :) But I have now revised my opinion on living in the middle of nowhere with a load of librarians - it sounds good to me right now! (As Guillermo said, until they go all Da Vinci Code on my ass.)

Tink found the most gorgeous pair of boots when she went shopping at the weekend; her outfit is very Rock Chick. They are black with a silver heel, and have strap detailing on the back. Tink is but 16, so I think she needs to give them to me really, they're a bit too sexy for the niece I sang to sleep as a bern! My search for boots continues.

I wonder who I could rope into coming to see Take That with me if I manage to get tickets?

Tissues & Issues

Whew. I got a lotta crap to get through today. So where do I start? Friday night we all settled down to watch The Recruit on DVD, basically because we couldn't be bothered going to rent anything decent and this was the only film we could sponge off a friend at short notice. We were all pretty tired and getting a little bored of the film, waiting for it to end about an hour and twenty in. I'd swapped places with the Boyf, who'd been sitting at my feet (in his designated area :P), because we'd moved most of the furniture out of there except for two armchairs while we decorate. So we're watching Colin Farrell run along a railway track, kill some dude and then recognise him from their training program, when all I hear is the sound of breaking glass and what I think is a torrent of gunfire. We're not in the movie anymore, the scene is my lounge, Colin Farrell is nowhere to be had and I'm pretty sure I can't blame Al Pacino. The first thing I do is scream my head off, scramble across the floor through our wine glasses and hide behind the armchair, because we all know that cheap upholstery is bulletproof right? The first thing Boyf does, I learn later, is spring out of his chair and go stick his head out of the jagged hole in our door. It wasn't gunshots at all, but two old house bricks, one through the living room window and one through the door. One brick, though I can't remember feeling it, hit my leg and I am now sporting a big lump and multicoloured bruising on my left thigh. The noise of the bricks and shattering glass was unbelievable in the echoey room, it seemed like it lasted a long time. Boyf was shouting and asking if I was okay, I said yes, then noticed the pool of blood. I looked at my hands and the palms were red, but I didn't feel any pain. Where is this blood coming from? I said, is everyone else okay? Boyf shouted for someone to call an ambulance and I waited for the pain to kick in, hoping it wasn't something serious; I literally did this, just sat and waited rather than checking, kind of stupid huh? Luckily Boyf was there and he found a deep slice in my hand and ran to get some kitchen towel to stop the blood, then lifted me off the floor and carried me into the kitchen, which was when I noticed that a brick had come through the front door too. Phonecalls were being hurriedly made while this was happening, and some of my family and my neighbour turned up while we were waiting for the paramedic. I hugged my sister. I was very calm although I was shaking. Boyf was trembling too and I told him to calm down and get my trainers. He could only find the boots. Yes people, I went to hospital in a pair of blood spattered pink pyjamas, a black coat I've had for six years, cow print slippers, and freshly blow-dried hair - which could have been my only saving grace - scragged back in a hair clamp. For shame.

It's taking me ages to type this since it's my right hand that's injured and that's the hand I can type with. Bloody typical!

The paramedic and the first nurse I saw were really nice and we had some humourous banter, none of which I remember. When we got to the hospital Boyf realised that his socks and shoes were full of broken glass, so he emptied them out on the floor. He also complained that even though his hands were covered in my blood too, the paramedic never asked him if he was okay.

Nurse: Well are you hurt?
Boyf: Well... no.
Nurse: *rolling his eyes* Well shut up then, God! Not getting any attention?

I walked through to the waiting room feeling an absolute state and there were three girls sitting there in their PJs. One of them went "Aren't those boots gorgeous!" It was pretty empty when we got there; it must've been about half twelve. Some drunk bloke came in and hassled us a bit, then we finally got called through. Someone took my blood pressure and my temperature, then we waited some more. Then I got sent for X-rays of my hand to make sure there was no glass still in there. I really enjoyed wandering around all these different departments of the hospital in my nightwear, but I eventually got stuck in a corner and forgotten about when all the drunks started arriving. We sat there while everyone else got cups of tea and blankets, came, were seen to, and went. Do doctors not like doing stitches or something? At about 7 am, after Boyf had been and jumped up and down a few times, they reluctantly found a doctor to stitch me up, and I warned her I was prone to fainting around needles. After being jabbed maybe 20 times by said needles, I had three very Frankenstein-esque stitches in my hand. Boyf had to sit down half way through cos he nearly fainted :P Then a nurse came, bandaged my hand and gave me a tetanus shot, which wasn't too bad until the next day. It still hurts!

Saturday everyone was really busy fixing the broken windows and putting lights and CCTV cameras on the front of our house, which is very fucking weird I must say. I think we may have set ours up to be a bit oversensitive too; if anyone actually sets foot in our street they get a big spotlight in their faces :P Maybe we should get big megaphones and shout things at them in an alien language so they think they're being abducted?

The annoying thing is I had that very night decided on the perfect outfit to wear to the Xmas do, managed to wangle a ticket for Boyf (which I paid for) and then I couldn't go! And the culprits? The Grinch clan. And I bet you think you've got it bad with your in-laws!

More shopping!

A warning: it's going to be like this until 23rd December. I apologise, but otherwise I lose track! I actually had to stop shopping today because I couldn't carry any more stuff. I was half way to the till with something else and I just thought, there's no way I'm gonna get all this home on the bus!

Today's haul:

- 3 shirts for Boyf, including one absolutely gorgeous olive green one that I had in mind before I set out and actually found! Dontcha love it when that happens? Is it bad I'm buying my boyfriend a shirt because I thought it looked sexy on Shayne Ward? (I don't fancy him by the way - he's a bit OTT on the puppy dog eyes for me.)

- a very manly (honest!) scarf, hat and glove set for Boyf. I couldn't resist, it is so cute! Don't think he'll wear it in Liverpool though... oh, and also a belt.

- yet more silky underwear for myself.

- from Boots, fcuk hair products for Boyf, Badedas and a yummy olive set for mum.

- 2 tops and a cardigan for work.

However, I found absolutely nothing to wear for the Xmas bash on Saturday, I don't know what I'm gonna do with my hair, and I know hardly anyone! *Panic starts here*

In other news, my Kaiser Chiefs tickets arrived today and they are a bit flimsy looking. I hope they're bloody real! :P

Oops I did it again

Today has been glorious. I have done absolutely nothing. Well, that's a lie actually; I got up, showered, had a cuppa, listened to some tunes, had some breakfast, watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer, had a natter with my mum, and shopped online. Oh, and there were a few phonecalls from the Boyf, who is working in London at the mo'. He and his workmates left site today to go to the pub and watch football - they had about five pints and then went back to work, operating heavy machinery etc! My mum finally told me what I could buy her for Christmas - she wants a dinner service for the French house. I'm not sure that crockery is the best Christmas present in the world, but it's what she wants so it's what she'll get! I'll get her the obligatory chocs, Badedas, and a good read as well. Now it's just my sisters and nieces to figure out! In my search for Christmas presents for this fussy lot, I accidentally bought myself a pink Nintendo DS! How on Earth this keeps happening I do not know! I'll just have to live with it I suppose...

Last weekend was very fruitful as far as the old Christmas shopping is concerned. I sorted all of Yank's tribe out; I got my awkward cousin some Toni & Guy hair products, Li a huge Coffee mug with coffee beans and other bits and bobs, and a Scooby Doo Where Are You? game for Crazy. You gotta love those 3 for 2 deals! I don't know what I'd do without Boots to get me started. We also got Boyf's mum a big pedicure set for her manky feet *heave* For Jack Jack I got the cutest little hoody in the world! And a Bratz doll for Anjelica. Sunday was madness as we did about 100 miles just going to Wales to look at Thornfield Hall, shopping at various retail parks and popping into town for a nice Italian. It's really no wonder I chose to spend today in my pyjamas! Tomorrow I have a bit of work on my dissertation to look forward to, and the third Harry Potter movie, which Potter lent me when he heard I hadn't seen it yet. Isn't he a good'n!

Happy Birthday to ya!

Birthday wishes go out today to Guillermo! 21 again I believe!

About a year ago, when we were both happily, um "engrossed" in our studies and unsullied by the harsh realities of full time employment, myself and Mr. Silverknife began a little phase called Hey, Who Needs Daytime? Let's MSN 'Til Dawn. T'other day, I came across an old conversation I forgot I saved, when we were trying to plan our trip to Edinburgh.

Chica says: id sleep in the car if i had to
Guillermo says: as long as it wasn't my car
Chica says: you havent got a car
Guillermo says: u know what i mean
Chica says: if u or i had a car this would be so much more simple
Guillermo says: ah now i see... i don't have a car, that's the problem.. it's like an american high school movie
Chica says: hehehe
Guillermo says: Chica will never go to the prom with me if i don't have a sweet ride!

Pleasure/Pain

If this is what macrobiotic dieting does to you, I'll stick to chip butties!

Is it just me or does Gwyneth's face look totally weird in this picture for the Estee Lauder ad campaign? I see it every night on my bus ride home and all I can think is: when did Gwyneth get such a big face? It looks like her image has been photoshopped on there and they got the proportions all out. Gwyn, you're much prettier than this, even in a dodgy paparazzi shot that's gracing the pages of a tabloid that's covering our living room windows while the room gets plastered! Demand these shots be retaken from a better angle - like the L'Oreal girls, you're worth it!

Crossroads

Oh my goodness. I had my interview at Thornfield Hall today. I decided I'd go just to give myself a bit longer to think about it and for the interview practice, thinking it couldn't hurt to meet one of the bigwigs from the English Department either. It all went really really well, then at the end of the interview the sweetest bloke in the world who interviewed me asked if I was likely to take the job if he offered it to me. Well, of course I bloody said yes! Then he said, "Oh good, the worst thing in the world is when you call to offer someone a job and they turn it down!" I'm thinking, oh shit, but I say, "Oh, don't get my hopes up Peter!" and they all laugh. Then he double checked they had the correct phone number for me. In time honoured tradition, I went down and wished the girls I'd been waiting with the best of luck before I left. Please God let one of them do really well and get the job cos I can't bear to say no to Peter! Merde.

Anyway. I had lovely texts and phonecalls from Guillermo to wish me luck, and it's his birthday tomorrow! I do believe he is out as I type getting merry, and has a long weekend to look forward to. Have fun G! I've since spoken to my dad, who said I should've given Peter a false number and suggested that I don't need any more interview practice, unless I plan on taking the job for sure!

Bollocks.