Diary of a Suburban Squeen

Having made another abortive attempt at tidying the cesspit of my room (hey, I hoovered this time!!) and showered to make myself clean for AJ, I suppose I should probably get off my arse and start getting ready to head out. Emma will kill me if I'm late (last time it was the same day I went to the Tsars exhibition at the V&A with xanantha and all transport in London was totally fucked, and I was vee delayed), and I wouldn't want to impinge on her happy-little-face.

Also, I had a hair cut last night. It's now short again.

Also, I need to go on a sugar detox. Having started working where there's a Poundland (oh, Barnes-Sheen-Richmond, you're a lovely area, but you're shit for cheap shops), I have been eating way, way too many sweets and chocolates and such like. I feel (and quite probably look) like two barrels, instead of the usual one.

Tomorrow I plan to clear all the crap off my desk. This is unlikely to end well and, worst case scenario, I will die in one of those oft-Mail-reported tunnel-of-crap-collapse deaths.

Anyway, the wrestling calls. Think of me fondly.

PS - Sorry for more health talk, but has anyone had a steroid injection for tendonitis in the wrist? How long is it supposed to take to get back to normal?

Oh, it looks nice outside! Not in a snowy way (no snow :( ) but just in a bright wintery day way. Pale blue sky striated with long, thin clouds, and stiff, bare branches. LOL we're on the second floor, so that's all I can see from the living room window. Anyhow, I'VE BROKEN UP FOR CHRISTMAS!! WOO!!! Extremely excited: I have two weeks off - I haven't had a break that long all year, and I think I need it, even though work is really awesome at the moment. And when I say awesome, I mean OMG TOTALLY FUCKING AWESOME LIEK WOAH! So that's nice.

Anyway, I've just had a shower, made a present for Katie's parents, finished presents for Kathye and Helen, and I just need to tidy up a bit (maybe), get dressed and head out to Kathye's for Christmas party joy. This evening, Katie and I are planning to go and see St Trinian's 2 at the kino, which I am looking forward to, because I loved the first one. Here's hoping the sequel delivers.

I suppose I should get on with the whole dressing thing. Ciao ciao, darlings.

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I am sure this will come to a massive shock to everyone, but I don't really believe in censoring reading for kids by the time they hit high school age (particularly American high school age, which I imagine this questions means, and which I think I am right in saying is about 14?). Partly this is the voice of experience - I never really had my reading censored (I started borrowing books from the adult section when I was 11/12), and I don't think I suffered in any way for that. I read what I wanted to, what I was interested in, and that worked for me. Occasionally, I read stuff from my grandparents' top shelf, which was 'racier' than stuff I got at home (but we're talking Jeffrey Archer/Harold Robbins racy here). I read teen and adult books that talked about sex and stuff, and that didn't faze me particularly. I don't know, I think adults can get extremely precious about "protecting the children", which by 14 or so is a bit absurd, because children can actually decide for themselves what they want to read.

Anyway, in other news, I'm selling my soul (or, OK, GGBP books) on eBay if anyone's interested. Buy stuff from me! This time, it's an aid of going out next week for my work leaving thing. Because next week is my last week! Thank fuck! I've mostly enjoyed this job, it has to be said. I like (most) of the people I've worked with, the job itself has been often tedious but occasionally interesting and challenging, and I've had to learn stuff, which is always a bonus. I think I'm a better administrator than I was when I started. So, y'know, progress is good. On the other hand, they screwed me over a bit and the uniform made me want to kill myself, and the challenge is mostly gone, so I'm glad I'm leaving. Looking forward to the next job, too! I've got three weeks of that (well, two and a bit, plus the fun of NHS induction), and then two weeks of holiday, which I am really looking forward to - I do need the break.

I've been stressing quite a lot recently: largely because of work, and also because of my ongoing inability to budget my money effectively. So, I apologise to my chums who've had me ringing them up expressly to rant about work, and then adding some feeble request about their own lives! I am going to try and chill out and not obsess over being slighted by HCA and enjoy life and be sensible. A fine plan. Let's see if I can stick to it.

In fanfictional news (fascinating for everyone), I have embarked upon my long planned Merlin fic on the old rex quondam rexque futurus theme. I do, of course, use the word "planned" loosely: I had a vague idea, wrote the first part, and now find myself trying to actually plan the rest of the story. I sort of know what's going to happen. IT WILL BE FINE. In other fanfictional news, I wrote Dean and Jo and internet porn, pimped it, and then (this is unheard of), DEPIMPED IT. Yes. You heard aright. I depimped a fic. It wasn't right, and I will probably rewrite it. I've also read a load of fic recently, and will rec the good stuff shortly. I also need to get cracking on the SGA bigbang. Also, I am, once again, regretting that sign ups for Yuletide passed me by. Every year I think I'd like to do Yuletide, because there are loads of small fandoms I love and would be happy to write in, but I never do anything about it. I suck.

Small break there: I went to fetch my dinner. I'm eating parsnips. Yum. I have to take total parsnip responsibility in Fangirl Towers, as Katie doesn't like them, but that's fine by me, as I am heavily pro-parsnip. You're never alone with a parsnip, I always say. I am also wearing leggings. I look fucking absurd, but who cares? I am alone. (I interrupt this fashion update to inform you that I put a little honey on my parsnips when I cooked them, and they smell delicious. I AM A PARSNIP GENIUS.)

So, what other news do I have? I went up to Sheffield last weekend to visit Grandma, which was very nice. She's mad as ever, but it was lovely to see her (and Rosie, and my parents), even if it was quite a fleeting visit, most of which seemed to be taken up with preparing meals. But we had a jolly time nonetheless, and it's not so long to Christmas, really. Journey both ways was hideous though. There must have been some sort of M1 hoohah on the Saturday morning, because the driver came off just south of Derby and toured the back streets of Derbyshire AS IF THE COACH WERE CROSSING MOLASSES IN JANUARY. Jizzy Chrizzy, I thought my bottom would fall off by the time we finally crept towards Meadowhead. And, natch, M1 into London on Sunday evening was foul. I swear to god I'm getting the train at Christmas...

Anyway, there's my news for the time being. I'm off to read a Mills & Boon set in the Norman Conquest. Good times...

Greetings from this side of the weekend! Had a smashing time, and I will now proceed to tell you all about it. Well, not all about it. Let's aim for the highlights, what, and leave it at that. So, Katie and I bopped to the South Bank and met Helen and Chloe at midday, and went round the National with, it mun be said, quite a lot of old people, who asked questions like "How much of the National's funding comes from the Government?" But, anyway, it was fab and, best of all, only one (1) of God's honest pounds.

Then we went and had lunch in Trafalgar Square, which was vee yum (Prezzo is actually very nice), and then we walked down the Mall to Mayfair, where we made our way to Heywood Hill, an extremely adorable bookshop (located, so the blue plaque outside would have us believe, in one of Nancy Mitford's former residences) with a quite beautiful old chap running it. Anyway, thus was the Wodehouse exhibition, which was dandy. (Total, total love for the bookshop - the sort of place where you ring them up on the 'phone and ask for such and such a title, and they send it round in a plain brown paper parcel - gorgeous! I want to get all my books that way.) So that was all super, and then Katie and I went home on the bus (a routemaster - always jolly) and got the last bits of Helen's birthday present. (And I watched Merlin and decided to become an Arthur/Gwen shipper.)

Accordingly, on Sunday, I arose late and we went to Helen's for cake, wine and general bitchery (always a staple), which was perfectly charming.

In conclusion: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HELEN!!

And also: I got offered that job I wanted (at ten to eight this morning - ye gods!), so woo!

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I always think that I would struggle to be friends with someone who disagreed with something that was fundamentally important to me, but actually I don't think that's the case. Many of my friends and people-with-whom-I-am-friendly have wildly diverging opinions about things that are important to me, whether it be religion or feminism or politics or the quality of Legally Blonde 2, and I still like them, and I presume vice versa. So, no, I've never stopped being friends with someone over differences in political views.

In other news, I went out drrrrrrinking last night with Emma and Rachael. We started out at Alex's leaving thing at the Ordinance, and then moved through London like spectres, the smell of super-strong cocktails and the sound of rampant giggling whispering in our wake. Good times. And all the better for not having a hangover this morning.

I had an interview yesterday afternoon for that job I quite want, and it seemed to go OK (although was bizarrely quick), but I honestly can't tell any more, and I've been unsuccessful with my applications so far, so I will gloomily expect the worst. I should know by the end of the week, apparently.

Well, bugger me with a fish fork. I've been enjoying all our newly returned shows, but I mun say the season premiere of NCIS has knocked them all into a cocked hat. Fucking awesome TV - loved it!! LOVED IT LIEK WOAH! \o/

In another news, it was Venom's birthday today, so we had lovely birthday breakfast, and did little else. Nice day. I made shep p. with lentils in with the usual mix, which was nice. Today, I also used my fic tag for the TWO-HUNDRED-AND-SEVENTY-FIFTH TIME. Wowza. So, you may be asking, what else has happened this week? Well, not a great deal. I have read a lot of books by Gaelen Foley, Helen came over for dinner on Monday and I signally failed to help her write a Christmas carol (seriously, darling, when was asking the atheist for help a plan?), instead getting overly amused by all the headings in my schoolgirl Good News bible (Jesus Heals a Man, Jesus Heals a Paralysed Man, The Man With a Paralysed Hand, Jesus Heals a Roman Officer's Servant, Jesus Heals Many People, Jesus Heals Two Men With Demons, Jesus Heals Two Blind Men, Jesus Heals a Dumb Man, Jesus Has Pity For the People), and last night...

Oh. Last night.

Excuse me a moment.

*goes out*

*comes back*

So, last night we wended our usual path to the Barbican for a jolly evening with the Bad Film Club. We were going to see a film that has become something of a cult in America. It... it...

No, sorry.

*goes out again*

*takes some deep breaths*

*comes back in*

I can't possibly find the words to do it justice. So I'm just going to give you the trailer instead.

Think of me in this post, if you will, as a sort of eerie Ariel, both comic and tragic, scampering about the stage in wispy veils.

1. The Trag

(a) I got half way through an actual, proper, nailing-my-colours-to-my-shipping-mast Kirk/Rand fic, when I decided it was actually shit. Does anyone want to beta for me and tell me if it actually is shit? Anyone? Bueller?

(b) I have fucked up my back and it's really uncomfortable and I am as a cripple of old. Cath's going to have a crack at it tomorrow if rotatey stretching and anti-inflammatories haven't worked their magic. Just FYI for everyone there. I'm sure you're fascinated.

(c) Fucking tipping it down yesterday. I got soaked. Everything I was wearing got soaked. EVEN MY SOUL GOT SOAKED. This situation was made worse by the fact that, along with Kathryn and Katie, I went to see Mock the Week being filmed last night, which does of course involve waiting outside the BBC for about fifty hours whilst they prance about not letting anyone in. However...

2. The Untrag

(a) Mock the Week was highly amusing and Frankie Boyle - well, there's no delicate way to put it. Frankie Boyle mimed raping Big Bird. We're all fairly confident it's unlikely to make it to the final cut. Neither, sadly, will the trials and tribulations of Mario, Dara O'Briain's Filipino lady-boy.

(b) I am making tuna lentil spectacular for dinner tonight. Mmm. Good times.

(c) Tonight will also feature the last week's ep of Supernatural (which, of course, we are dreading a bit, due to the total Fail! of Supernatural generally - we have been contemplating, actually, starting a new LJ comm, to be named something along the lines of Come On, Ladies: One More Series, We Can Do It) and, far more excitingly, this week's One Tree Hill! OTH, people! I wonder what ridiculous randomness this series will have in store for us? Also, it's Merlin on Saturday, and next week NCIS, Bones, The Big Bang Theory and Castle all start up again, so woo!!! I ♥ TV!

(d) OUR INTERNET IS BACK! REJOICE! REJOICE WITH US!

"I cannot spend day and night satisfying the demands of the Chater family!"

Arms up, darlings. \o/ Katie and I are off to see Arcadia again tomorrow. Probably with ludicrously cramped seats again, but what else can you do when you don't have £100 to spend on tickets? Nothing, that's what, except squish up like an accordion.

In other news: they're planning to make a Teen Wolf TV series (hilarious), copy-and-paste girl is WHINGEING LIKE HER LIFE IS TRAGIC (annoying), my apple is crunchy (excellent), I need to remember I'm going to Oxford on Saturday (difficult)*, and my bracelets are still being all bangly (joyous).




* Xanthe - alas, I already have plans for Saturday, so cannot come with the Brownies, I'm afraid.

I write this sitting on the sofa. Which is less interesting, I grant you, than some other literary openings. Anyway, so much has happened for me to tell you all about, that I'm bound to leave everything interesting out. However, I will try my best, sadly hampered by the fact that I'm about to explode from an excess of chicken korma (mmm, chicken korma).

1. I can't remember whom I have previously button-holed on the subject of chicken korma. If it was you, I apologise. As PG Wodehouse so perspicaciously pointed out once, it is so difficult to know how to pitch your tale, when there is the possibility that bod A may know more of the story than bod B. Anyway, I have never really cooked a curry or anything like it, so it was with some trepidation that I embarked upon a recipe for c.k. that Emma gave me, but it turned out OK and I have now cooked it approximately fourteen times in the last week. Next stop: thai chicken curry, which I love but which I have, again, never cooked.

2. Do any more northerly folk know what's going on at the Tesco-roundabout-end of the Chesterfield bypass? They demolished the glassworks there ages ago, but apparently they're now building a giant (new) Tesco there, and there are rumours that there's going to be a bit of football stadium action on the remaining land - that's going to bugger up the traffic nicely come match days.

3. In re release of Lockerbie bomber as what is dying fairly imminently, WTF FBI man? Scotland's case, Scotland's jurisdiction, Scotland's decision. Fuck off out of it.

4. I'll stop waffling now and get to the nub of LIFE and the only topic about which anyone will have any interest. I'm sure you will all be delighted to hear that my hair has faded quite a lot, and although it is still massively, stupidly red, I no longer look like Jane Goldman, so yay. Also, Helen cut me a bob, which is ACE and also AWESOME (even though Pim's bathroom was apparently covered in my hair for quite some time EVEN THOUGH I totally tidied up after myself).

5. So, ja, the other weekend, I went to Helen's, and we hung out being ineffectual together, and then we went to Pimly's, where she cooked us Mexican lasagna (always a treat, and who knew Nellie Dean could even cook?! I thought she lived on scraps...) and we watched St Trinian's and Mamma Mia - frankly, what could be more glorious? What indeed? I hear you say. And, as mentioned, Helen cut my hair, which was a TRIUMPH because she is unexpectedly skilled in that arena. &Helen;

6. Subsequently, Pim and I went out to dinner at that gourmet institution that is Pizza Express. I had - no, wait for it - chicken caesar salad! I know! *makes I-know face* Who saw that coming? Service was fairly rubbish, as per, but we had a nice meal and chatted and bitched, and then wandered down the South Bank (which may well be MY FAVOURITE PLACE IN THE WHOLE WORLD) to the National, where we sat on the giant grass furniture and met Katherine and brushed our hair like land-locked mermaids and had ice lollies and chatted. All vee nice. We were, however, saddened by the absence of Kathryn, who blew us off for COLLEAGUES SHE PRESUMABLY SEES ALL THE TIME. Pah.

7. The day after that was Thursday (an accurate timeline is crucial), which was my last day at work that week. Now, we have a thing at work where, when it's someone's birthday, we bring in food AS A SECRET and have a little lunch party. However, Emma and I are the only ones who have ever arranged this, and as Emma's last day had been the Wednesday, I was not expecting lunch. We continued our hilarious file purge in the morning, and then I was called into the office in a tiny emergency TO FIND THEY'D DONE ME LUNCH ANYWAY! Woo! It was so exciting! Also, Cath had bought me a bottle of No 6 Pimm's (a sort of Pimm's No 1/vodka hybrid which turns out to be DELISH). All in all, a good day.

8. On Friday, after getting up ridiculously early to pack and blow dry my hair and such like, I bopped to Victoria to meet Katherine and Pim and wend our way up to Chesterfield, where the CBB Summer Frolick was - well, actually not scheduled to take place. It was to take place in Barlborough, the village where my parents live. The mater (eventually) picked us up and we went to Sainsbury's where Katherine shopped for Frolick food and Pim and I wandered around and bought clothes and stuff. Went home and then OHNOES! TRAGEDY! Katie was cutting short her holiday to come up to the old borough of Barl, and had booked her ticket from Cornwall to Sheffield, but tragedy had struck! Fearful traffic along the byways of the west country! No train catching! No movement of any kind! EPIC SADFACES ACROSS THE LAND. In the end, she had to give up the Sheffield plan and buy a ticket back to London. I will not lie. There was a tiny crystalline single emo tear*. Anyway, as luck and the script would have it, I managed to find a relatively decent ticket for London-Doncaster on the Saturday morning, and, with a bit of (FRANKLY GENIUS) jiggery-pokery, I booked it for her. \o/

9. On Friday evening, we had savoury pancakes and my parents were ridic. I love them. They're awesome. Also, on a similar note, Pim and I suspect that our mothers may actually be THE SAME WOMAN. Have you ever seen them in a hospital together? Have you? I didn't think so. I mean, we always knew there was the daughters-of-NHS-managery-women bond between us, but even so...

10. Saturday! Frolick! Tiny plastic Jesus watched over us all, and the Frolick went according to plan (except for the bit where I kept leaving out bits of activity, but that happens with the most well-regulated frolicks). Katie arrived sans problem. The Little School even had a cake stand for all Katherine's cupcakes (lemon cakes = delicious beyond measure). I made quiches.

11. DONNA BOUGHT ME A TINY PLASTIC JIM KIRK! BEST PRESENT EVER! HE IS MY TINY PLASTIC LOVERRRRRRRR! I LOVE HIM!

12. Saturday PM: back to the homestead, and time to open presents! Woo! I was in receipt of a tea towel (a present classic), a giant Cornwall pencil, a thing to make Virgin Mary toast, two pairs of Holy Socks AND PIM KNITTED ME A SHATNER!FACE! YES! YOU HEARD ME RIGHT! AN ACTUAL, HONEST-TO-GOD SHATNER!FACE, LIKE SHE SWORE SHE WOULDN'T! (Yeah, she's weak. Exploit her, people.) IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL I DIDN'T EVEN HAVE WORDS! I LOVE YOU, NELLIE!! Also, Katie made me a birthday card that had me and Jim sailing down an Amsterdam canal, while Spock watched us go, his left eyebrow a picture of emo woe. Fucking beautiful. I love my friends. Then Daddy made us his chicken curry thing, which is always yum, and Katie and I tidied the kitchen and went to bed. A smashing day.

13. Right. Sunday. Got up, had some orange juice and a tea cake. Had a shower. Faffed. Katie and I went to the station with Katherine and Pim and bid them adieu, then Mummy took us on to Grandma's, where I had more presents, and enjoyed Grandma being as ridiculous as ever. Then Chris turned up and there was a bit of chatting, and then we went down the road to see Grandpa, who was much as ever, though he'd managed to bash himself up a bit falling down the drive. Went in the garden to admire decking and fish - all vee nice, actually. We went home and had some lunch, then Mummy took us to Sheffield to catch the old coach back to London. We had a surprisingly smooth, un-awful journey. Had a bit of tea (God's honest pork pie, some tomatoes, some Babybel, some pickled onion Monster Munch, and an apple). Got home not too late, all in all. So, that was my weekend.

Anyway, that's about it. Not much else to report.

In Conclusion

Item: I am in possession of one (1) tiny plastic Jim Kirk and one (1) knitted Shatner!face.
Item: I have new short hair.
Item: I have, this very moment, been outbid on the chest of drawers I want. Damn you, eBay, damn you!
Item: Chicken korma rocks.

Addendum: My little brother, who works for Accenture, has just had a promotion and a 25% pay increase! I am very proud of him, and also very envious! Still, he's been working ridiculous hours, so I think I'd rather have my poorer paying much less working job!




* This is, in fact, a lie.

Ah, the weekend, that oasis of awesomeness in the desert of officedom... Yesterday, Katie and I GOT UP EARLY (yes, ON A SATURDAY) in order to go to Kingston (there is nothing I don't love about Kingston) for a bit of shopping. You will all, I know, be ecstatic to hear that, after three and a half years, we have finally bought a new little scrubbing brush on a stick for the kitchen. *high five* 17p well-spent, I think we'll find.

After the shopping and the smoothie drinking, we went to Ealing to have lunch with Katherine, in honour of her birthday (which is today - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KATHERINE!!!). We sadly were only three, since Helen was still on her plaguey sick bed, however we called her and through the power of the speaker phone, we all got a little chat and she was allowed to share vicariously in the experience of Katherine opening her birthday presents. (HA HA HA WINE COOLER OMG WE'RE SO HILARIOUS!!) After lunch (delish), we plotted Frolickiness for a while (Frolick, people, come and Frolick...), and then Katie and I headed home via the Hammersmith Sainsbury's, have had the spiffing idea of brunch and tea for today. (Mmm, brunch. Mmm, tea.)

Today, I arose at half past ten, and read two more LJ Smith books (I don't even have words, at this point), and then watched The Last Legion (Colin Firth as a Roman soldier...) and Push (Chris Evans as anything and I am there), both of which I enjoyed to a surprising extent. I put half my books on eBay. I made brunch. Katie sorted tea. I made a bastard version of my tomato soup that basically turned into tomato and lentil bol, but whatevs, it's probably nutritious, and that's three days' lunch right there.

Also, I want to check everyone's up to speed with regard to The Great Hair Catastrophe of 2009. I've washed it a few times, and it doesn't seem that much lighter to me, though Katie assures me it is. Head and Shoulders will, I'm sure, do its sacred work - on the second scrubbing, I can feel the chemical tingle in my scalp which is simultaneously comforting (yes! work your magic! strip my stupid, ill-advised hair dye!) and concerning (can Head and Shoulders give you cancer?). Anyway, Katie took a photo. Normally I would not trumpet my shame in this manner... oh, OK, fine, yes I would.

( This way to view my shame... )

So, yes, no words there, really. However, tragically, I must tell you that my piteous existence does not stop there. Many of you will know of my troubled relationship with milk. I cannot deny we have our ups and downs. (For those of you who are new to the world of Me & Milk, the rules are simple. Milk must come from an approved source, namely the major supermarkets of Sainsbury's, Waitrose or Tesco. It cannot have been left unrefrigerated for more than 15 minutes. It cannot be past its sell-by date*. It cannot taste in any way unlike standard homogenised milk. If milk meets these strict criteria, it is my faithful friend, and I will drink it by the gallon. If not, I will scrawl curse upon malediction upon its treacherous plastic body, fling its milk blood down the drain, and throw the remains to the wolves**.) We had new milk recently. Properly delivered, properly containered milk from Sainsbury's. I supervised its arrival myself. It has not broken any rules. And yet, yet, fair reader, I just drank a glassful AND IT TASTED OFF.

I AM SO TRAUMATISED.

*sighs* Nobody understands my pain. Except Helen. We are tiny tragic soulmates.



* Yes, these are a giant con and normally I will eat/drink anything that seems OK regardless of label, but see above re total and irrational milk neurosis.
** Or leave it for Katie and/or the making of cheese sauce/pancakes etc.