always the last to know



So far today, three different people on two different continents have asked if Paul and I are getting married. Is there something you guys know that you want to share with me? Eh?

don't mind me, i'm just sitting here aging



What an absolutely fantastically brilliant weekend that was! Saturday morning I woke up, feeling a little less hideous and packed my things to spend a weekend at Paul's house. We drove down the A1 but went right past our exit. "Umm...where are you taking me?" I asked my beloved, who then switched the car stereo to play a CD containing the "Lisa, it's your birthday" song from the Simpsons. Paul revealed not all, but some of the birthday weekend plan - we were going to London! We got to our hotel in Kensington, I had a quick nap (oh how I needed that), then got dolled up for an evening out. We hopped in a cab and headed for Soho (wherein Paul made many jokes about taking me to a strip joint), and ended up at a fantastic sushi place. Sushi, tempura, soup, and noodles trundled by us on a conveyor belt as we sat around a counter on stools. It's too damn easy to overeat at these places, what with food parading past you the entire time. It was a bit like a roulette wheel at certain points, because we'd spot things we were interested in that would get snapped up by someone else, and we had to wait until the kitchen prepared more. We sat there going "Come ooonnnnn spinach! Let's go, tempura!" as we watched the food go around like an airport luggage carousel. The best part was watching a small child next to me try wasabi paste for the first time. I do not suggest you eat it by the spoonful if you've never tried it before. Full of good food, we rolled out of the restaurant and Paul led me through the streets of West London. A few short blocks later, we emerged by the Lyric Theatre and I spotted the huge sign for the Ian McKellen play "Dance of Death". Guess where we were headed next? No, not a strip joint. The play was excellent (and we did resist the urge to yell out "Look! It's Gandolf!") and was the first West end play I've ever seen.



Sunday was beautifully sunny and warm, and we headed over to the Ideal Home Show. A bit disappointing because it was more like walking around a gigantic informercial. We'd go past booths of people literally jumping out at us asking us to try their product, let them do my hair and nails, or sign up for their insurance/finance/utilities plan. One woman actually came at me shouting, "Stop stop stop, darling!", which was more than just a little unnerving. Otherwise, there were some interesting booths from less insane (but still pushy) companies and it was a nice way to spend a few hours. We drove back towards Cambridge, stopping at one of our favourite pubs for dinner and went past our new house (which now has the sold sign in front of it YAY!). We shared a bottle of wine at home and relaxed after our fun-packed weekend.



This morning I woke up to a big pile of birthday gifties from my Mom and Dad, Paul's parents, Russ and Debs, and Paul. As if my weekend in London wasn't enough, Paul also got me a set of gorgeous Japanese teacups, which is something I've really wanted for a while. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.



This aging thing really isn't so bad when there's all this other good stuff happening, eh. :)

in space, no one can hear you sneeze



I woke up this morning feeling a lot like John Hurt in "Alien" when he had an alien stuck to his face. There is an invisible, evil entity that has affixed itself to my sinuses, and the only way to dislodge it is to throw Tylenol Sinus tablets at it.



If I blow my nose much more, it'll drop off my face like an old fig. I have to nap every few hours, I'm cranky, and I've only eaten bland foods for the past two days. I'm either turning into an infant, or an 80 year old - not sure which yet. Daytime television is starting to make me break out into hives. I've watched Ricki, Sally, Montel, Oprah, Trisha, and reruns of the Bionic Woman (okay, that was cool). My ears are plugged up. I've been in pyjamas since Wednesday. My lips are really dry. My throat hurts.



Help.

which was nice



Things that are making this miserable cold feel a bit better:

• Tylenol sinus. Every 4 hours.
  
  
• This mug of tea. It's made with lovely loose English Breakfast leaves in a mug I got from Paul's brother and sister in law for Christmas.
  
  
• Digital television.
  
  
• Freshly laundered bedding.
  
  
• Knowing that there's a big birthday parcel from my Mom and Dad waiting for me at Paul's house for Monday.
  
  
• Ditto for the gifties from Russ and Debs.
  
  
• Kleenex Balsam.
  
  
• The ice lollies/popsicles I got at the grocery store across the street. My sore throat loves them.
  
  
• My "fluff reading": Hello magazine, and a mystery novel by Sue Grafton.
  
  
• My big, fuzzy, white slippers.
  
  
• An afternoon nap.
  
  
• My Roots jammies.
  
  

*snorrrrrk*



I am so fed up with getting colds. Luckily, I seem to be getting colds that last a day or two, although this one feels quite a lot worse than the express colds I've had lately. What's worse is that we're busy doing stuff this weekend like going to the Ideal Home Show and celebrating some broad's birthday. Paul's promised to take me to Pizza Hut and I shall be so gutted if I can't make it. I've got my fancy frock just for the occassion and everything. I actually don't know what we're doing for dinner, and to be honest, I wouldn't mind if we did end up at Pizza Hut. I'm not a fussy gal, really - it's the presents that count.



Thank you everyone for the puppy advice. If we do get a dog, it'll be after we pay for and finish up all the redecorating and all the other new house stuff purchasing. You know you're becoming a grown up when things like having a dog, planning a garden, and looking at bathroom suites and kitchen appliances are really exciting. These are happy times, though. Just shoot me if you see me holding Tupperware parties.

deep



Dogs and shopping. That's what today's post is going to be about. Most people are blogging about the state of the world, but I promise to remain as inane and nonsensical as always. No, no - thank YOU.



Shopping. We were up in Warrington this weekend to visit the fabulous Russell and Debbie, and had a wander around the Cheshire Oaks Shopping Outlet yesterday. It was a very North American looking outdoor outlet mall (complete with a Starbucks), full of shops containing last season's items that didn't sell or clothing in two sizes: Small or XL. To be fair, we did find a few goodies (Paul fared much better than I did, which seems unfair somehow) and came back with some nifty kitchen gadgets. Now we can chop herbs just like Nigella with our very own mezzaluna. Mmmmm.



Dogs. We want one. Now here's the dilemma - is it possible (humane?) to have a puppy when both of us are out all day at work? The bigger dilemma - we love Labradors. Is it possible to have a Lab puppy at home, alone, without it chewing its way through your walls? We're thinking not.

desperation



So I rang the estate agent guy yesterday to cancel the house viewing we had scheduled for today. Since Paul now has an offer in on his house, we can go forward with everything and no longer wish to look at other houses. The agent asked why we cancelled, understood, and wished me a nice day. Two minutes later, another guy from the same agency rang me, again to query why I didn't want to see the house anymore. The conversation went like this:

Me: "Thanks, but we're no longer looking as we've put an offer in on another house."

Agent: "Which house is this?"

Me: "Actually, it's number 20, just down the road."

Agent: [hissing sound of breath being sharply sucked in] "Oh, I've seen number 20. It's not nearly as nice as number 5."

Me: "Yeah but it's �7,000 cheaper. And has an ensuite."

Agent: "The owners are willing to be quite flexible with the price. They are very keen to sell."

Me: "No really, thanks. We're no longer looking."

Agent: "It's quite a sad story, really. The husband is quite ill and the family are being forced to move."



I'm waiting for him to send me pictures of some tear-stained kids dressed in potato sacks holding up signs saying, "Why won't you buy our house?"

a little off the sides



I love going to the hairdresser's. There is something so luxurious in having someone fuss over you for an hour, going on about how beautifully shiney your hair is. There are certain salon activities I can definitely do without (waxing seems about as much fun as wrapping yourself in duct tape and pulling really hard), but having my hair washed and brushed is the absolute best.

don't mess with my mom



I asked my Mom to send some wasabi peas for Paul in the next package she sends. In an email from her last night, she said "I haven�t bothered sending your Easter package until I know that this war isn�t going to mess up the delivery service. I don�t want Saddam Hussein munching away on your Wasabi peas!"



Mothers - way smarter than evil warlords.

especially for you



Just as a little bonus, because I'm in such a corkin' mood, here is another response to a fantabulous reader who found me by typing something amusing into Google. So this is for you, the person who lovingly entered the phrase "feckin Kiwi":

yeah baby, YEAH!



I am pleased to announce that someone came to see Paul's house this evening. They liked it so much, they put in an offer. Mr. Paul accepted said offer. As an added bonus, the people who made the offer are renting so there is no chain on their end. Let the house purchasing and moving commence!



May I just say woo and indeed hoo.

always after me lucky charms



So Paul's in Dublin right now and he has been instructed not to have any fun. Luckily, this instruction should be easy to follow as he's there on business. I do want him to enjoy himself really; I'm just bitter because I've been wanting to go to Dublin for like 12 years and still haven't been. Feckarse. I did learn something new this week, though. Apparently, you have to dial 00 before the number from the UK as calls to Ireland are international. It would have been more useful to know this last night when I made about eight attempts to ring Paul's hotel using various numerical combinations with no success. I ended up ringing his mobile which probably cost him around a kajillion pounds to receive an international call. If I can't be in Dublin, at least now I can ring someone who is.

like we'll ever read all the brochures



We went to the Homebuilding and Renovation Show in Birmingham this weekend, which was pretty good fun even though we're not going to do a self build at this point. It was more of a trade show rather than something with a lot of displays and exhibits to look at, but we did find some funky stuff. We're off to the Ideal Home Show at the end of this month, which I expect will be full of many fantastic and brilliant things most normal people can't possibly afford. It's really more to get ideas/inspiration, and to get as much free stuff as possible. This is always my goal at any conference: get free stuff. All I got was a pen this weekend, but I hear that there's free food at the Ideal Home Show. I'll bring an extra big purse and lots of Tupperware.

you asked for it



For the person who found this site by searching for "free pictures of cling film fetish", this one is for you. No, no need to thank me. I do it because I care. No Kung Fu Hamsters were harmed in the making of this image.



As for the person who got here by searching for "dean's cottage cheese picture", you will have to speak to Deano himself for that one. Although somehow I imagine that Dean doesn't have cottage cheese in his fridge.

it's funny cos it's true



Thanks to Adrian for passing this along today.



How in the name of the United Nations does anyone expect men to find Saddam's stash? We all know that men have a blind spot when it comes to finding things. For crying' out loud! Men can't find the dirty clothes basket. Men can't find the jar of marmite until it falls out of the cupboard and splatters on the floor.... and these are the people we have sent into Iraq to search for hidden weapons of mass destruction?



I keep wondering why groups of mothers weren't sent in. Mothers can sniff out secrets quicker than a drug dog can find a ounce of dope. Mothers can find gin bottles that dads have stashed in the attic beneath the rafters. They can sniff out a diary two rooms and one floor away. They can tell when the lid of a cookie jar has been disturbed and notice when a quarter inch slice has been shaved off a chocolate cake. A mother can smell alcohol on your breath before you get your key in the front door and can smell cigarette smoke from a street away. By examining laundry, a mother knows more about their kids than Sherlock Holmes. And if a mother wants an answer to question, she can read an offenders eyes quicker than a homicide detective.



So...considering the value a mother could bring to an inspection team, why are we sending a bunch of old men who will rely on electronic equipment to scout out hidden threats?



My mother would walk in with a wooden soup spoon in one hand, grab Saddam by the ear, give it a good twist and snap, "Young man, do you have any weapons of mass destruction?" And god help him if he tried to lie to her. She'd march him down the street to some secret bunker and shove his nose into a nuclear bomb and say, "Uh, huh, and what do you call this, mister?" Whap! Thump! Whap! Whap! Whap! And she'd lay some stripes across his bare arse with that soup spoon, then march him home in front of the whole of Baghdad. He'd not only come clean and apologize for lying about it, he'd cut every lawn in Baghdad for free for the whole summer.



Inspectors my ass... You want the job done? Send your mother.

ponderables



I tried to sleep (I've got a cold and went to bed early; I'm not getting old and boring. Shaddup.) but too many things were going round in my head. I think the best therapy is to jot them all down here and leave my thoughts with you to ponder. No really, it'll be fun.

• I've had a web site since December 1997. I never thought about that until I went through all my guest book entries back to the first one. This means that I've been clogging up the Internet with my inane crap for over 5 years. Go me!
  
  
• The ensuite bathroom in our new house has a shower, sink, and a bidet. No toilet, just a bidet. What the hell was the owner thinking when he put that in? Perhaps he thought it was a water feature of some sort.
  
  
• Are there any fat people in Australia? I don't think so.
  
  
• How come MFI are always having a sale that always threatens to be the very final sale no we really mean it this time? I keep getting into a panic thinking that we have to run in there today and order stuff, or else it'll be really expensive if we wait. Or is that the whole point? Oh.
  
  
• I've just discovered that Paracetamol is actually acetaminophen. I swear, I've spent the last 2 1/2 years importing Tylenol from home because I thought we couldn't get it here. I also feel slightly daft after having told people that Paracetamol doesn't work for me, and this is why I have to bring in Tylenol. Hey, I never claimed to be a doctor.
  
  

It's definitely time for bed and another Lemsip.

it lives



Paul and I went into Cambridge on Saturday to do some shopping. As went trundled along Newmarket Road, I spotted a scooter going past us. Upon further observance, I noticed that the licence place looked familiar - it was my ex-scoot's number plate. It's alive! Aliiiive! My scooter has been resurrected and is currently putting up and down the streets of Cambridge. Although somewhat saddened to see it underneath some strange person's buttocks, I am happy knowing that it's still around.

because i care



I value you, my readers, and try to make sure that you are getting the most for your entertainment dollar. As such, I feel it's my duty to provide adequate information for those of you who have made the extra effort of finding me through various search engines. Starting today, I will select a search string from my site logs and supply the information requested, if it's not already present on this site.



Today's search string is "pics of lisa's cans". Although I'm not entirely sure why this is of interest to anyone, here is the picture requested. I thank you for reading and taking the time to type in those precious words in Google.

run out and buy one today



Paul's house is now up on the property agent's web site here (photos now up!). If any of you UK lovelies know anyone who's looking for a house in the Northampton area, please pass this along. Erm, and please ignore the typos in the ad. Looks like this company needs a proofreader.

spot the difference



The last company I worked at: I brought in microwave popcorn (imported from Toronto) and everyone either went "ewwwwwwww that smells" or couldn't quite comprehend the concept of popcorn as a snack food item.



Present company I work at: I brought in microwave popcorn (imported from Toronto) and I have now got several workmates addicted. Well, except for Chris G. who made a yuck face at it (but tried some anyway). While I was microwaving it, people kept commenting on how good it smelled.



Although both places (and the last company I worked for in Montreal) agree; my plastic cheese slices are just gross.

hooray



You know it's going to be a good day when you get an email containing nothing but the following:

"Boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies

boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies

boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies

boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies

boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies

boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies boobies

boobies boobies boobies!!!!"



So what did we learn today? The word "boobies" makes it through my company's email smut filtre.

running up that hill



We spent the weekend in sunny Kent for Paul's Dad's birthday, and a fine weekend it was. We went to Bluewater, a shopping centre probably best known for the place in which Posh Spice had a hissy fit over unauthorised autographed pics of her husband. It's right swanky, it is. We went for a run on Sunday, and although it was nice and bright, we were faced with obstacles unknown to those of us who dwell in Cambridgeshire - hills. There is nothing that will hurt your calves more than running up a very muddy bridlepath uphill, except if maybe a small dog was biting you on the back of the legs the entire time.



On a sad note, my "uncle" Roy (who was actually my Mom's cousin, but we always called him uncle) passed away on Friday. He owned several companies over the years, his latest being a water filtre company. He was quite a character - the loudest one in the room with a big heart. Every year, he held a huge family Christmas party where he would give away "door prizes". We'd all draw playing cards and if yours matched, you'd get anywhere from around $50 to $500 (depending on how well the company did that year). I'm very happy to say that I got to see him last Christmas, and this is just by pure luck. Normally, the big yearly party is always a few weeks before I go home and I usually miss it. This year, it was held a bit later and Paul got to meet a small sample of my extended family (around 50 relatives or so, poor guy). As an added bonus, Paul won a prize this year ($50) and was the hit of the evening as both the "new guy" and the "English guy". As we left, Roy hollered out, "See you later, mates!" Christmas will most definitely not be the same without him.