i have no willpower, you know



Paul was on a course all last week in London, at which they taught him stuff about C# (the programming language, not the musical note) and fed him daily. He got lunch and a plethora of snack-sized chocolate bars every single day. This meant that he came home with handfuls of little Kit Kats all week. A pile of them sat on my table as I stared at them fretfully. I ate one and left the rest behind. Not bad, I thought. So today we came back here after spending the weekend in Northampton to the pile of Kit Kats. Paul ate a few and I actually shooed the rest of them out of my house. I think the conversation went something like "Take them! TAKE THEM!!" as I pushed them in Paul's direction. Hurrah, they made it out of my house with only one casualty. A few minutes ago, I went into my purse to get something and what did I find? One lone snack-sized Kit Kat. I could go with the theory that it fell in there purely by accident, but I'm pretty sure that it landed there as a result of my boyfriend being diabolically evil. Yeah, I ate it. And I'd do it again.



Reasons why anyone involved in the house purchasing system is evil #759: The mortgage company has had our paperwork in their grubby little hands for three weeks. Two weeks after receiving our application, they decided that they needed 6 months worth of Paul's bank statements. We were not amused. One week later, they decided that they wanted the originals. Our mortgage advisor (and good friend, the lovely Debbie) had faxed the statements to Satan's Building Society, and it took them the whole bloody week to tell us that a) they couldn't read 3 out of 19 of the pages, and b) they want the originals plus a reference from my landlord attesting that I do actually pay my rent. Why didn't they ask for the landlord reference three weeks ago? I'll tell you why: because they are the spawns of Satan. So today we sent the bank statements over by recorded post, gave them my letting agent's phone number, and swore a lot. Now we wait. Again. To top it all, we got some documents in the post from our solicitors today with - I kid you not - my name spelled wrong. Now I have to ring them and tell them that MacDonald is spelled Mac not Mc, just like it said in all the correspondence we've sent them so far. Holy macaroni.



Breathe...and relax...and breathe...and relax...



Dammit, I'm out of chocolate.

your questions answered



Another month, another vast list of search strings leading to this site. Not wanting to disappoint the Googlers, here are some answers to your queries.



"how get tipsy from eating pasta": 1) Eat pasta. 2) Drink a bottle of wine. 3) Repeat.

"how heavy is the cn tower": Very. No, really!

"how much do passports cost to go to paris": If you need to purchase a passport, you may be embarking in something slightly illegal. I'm not a solicitor, but I'm pretty sure you don't buy passports to go to other countries unless you've done something very naughty.

"how will smoking hurt to open business": I suppose it won't, unless you're opening up a pharmacy or centre for the asthmatic.

"who sang it's raining men": Chris Walsh, on a bike rack, 2001.

faith is restored



Chris G. suggested that I send a note round to our office in Chalfont about sponsoring me, and what a fabulous idea that was! Here I was, being polite in a Canadian kind of way (I thought it would seem obnoxious and pushy to send a note to the other office as I don't know many people there), when I should have been a little more forward. I am very pleased to say that two fantastic women (whom I have never met) have not only sponsored me, but they have sent notes of encouragement. My spirits are lifted today - it just took a couple of people to say, "What a cool thing you're doing. Good luck!" (And of course many thanks to those of you who have done that - I'm definitely not saying no one's been positive so far.)



Oooh, and my manager Vel has donated �50 today as well. Woowoowoo!

now seating the pity party, table for one



I admit, I was feeling a bit disillusioned, disappointed, and downright pouty yesterday. Everything was put right by a hug and sympathy from Paul, and the fact that What Not to Wear was on and it made me giggle. What can I say, I'm a simple gal.



In other news, Paul spent ages trying to rid my computer of an evil little program. While browsing the Internet, something called Hotbar installed itself on my machine. Yes, how lovely, I know. I kept getting popups every few minutes, and software like PopupKiller couldn't stop it. Hotbar also installed this thing called Free Scratch and Win, which ended up being a complete bugga to remove. Although listed in the Add/Remove Programs dialogue (as something called nCase), it also installs a randomly-named exe file in your Windows/System32 folder. After digging through all my files and registry, Paul noticed this file (it's not got an icon, which makes it look rather suspicious), deleted it, and now all is well. I'm more than just a little annoyed that Norton didn't stop this file from downloading, and that there is even software like this about.

ah, that would be the sound of crickets



I'm a bit disappointed. I sent a message around my office today, asking people to sponsor me for the half marathon I'm doing in May. Now, I'm not going to bitch and moan that no one sponsored me because I did get a few responses (10 people in total so far, although 3 are from our other office in Chalfont), but I think I expected more enthusiasm from everyone. It's bad enough that people take the piss out of me when they see me running (I've been training at lunchtimes a few times a week since January), but I thought more people would be keen to sponsor me. I think the team that did a one mile fun run last year had quite a good response, so maybe that's why I thought I'd get the same. Jack (bless his little cotton cycling shorts) posted a message to the Convergys gang on my behalf, and no one has responded.



Forget about whether or not I'm miss popular at this office or my old office - maybe I'm being a Pollyanna, but I thought loads of people would be happy to shell out a couple of quid for breast cancer research. I couldn't have made it easier; people can either donate directly online or just send me a note saying how much they want to donate (i.e. they don't have to leave their desks and fill out the sponsorship form or give me any money). God help me if our kids ever have to sell chocolate bars or Girl Guide cookies. Cambridge offices ain't gonna fork over the cash (although to be honest, I hate it when people peddle stuff on their kid's behalf at the office). I sent notes around to people back home and friends here, and I'm not really expecting donations - but don't get me wrong 'cos they would be nice. ;) I did think that I'd have much more luck asking around my office and Convergys, though. That's what's disappointing.



So, a mega huge thank you to those of you who used PayPal to send me a donation (you can now donate directly to the charity online - see the link above). Considering two of you who donated have never even met me in person, you will surely get all sorts of good karma back for this. Super doopa thanks to those 10 from Citrix. Some of you are expecting lots of pictures of chicks in bras in return for your sponsorship, but I can't really fault you for that. Sincerely, you have my heartfelt thanks.



I think perhaps this has just been a bit of a crap day. When I went out running at lunch, I was mauled by some guy's overenthusiastic Labrador and builders catcalled me (why do they always do that and why does this seem to be an international phenomenon?). This isn't one of those "oh so this is why I've been putting myself through muscular hell and blisters for four months" days. Feh.

flashback



Hey look everyone, it's one of my lame web pages from 1998! Click here to be transported back to the time when my site was incredibly useless and contained no interesting information whatsoever. Erm...not like it's chock full o' intellectual goodness now, but anyway. Enjoy!



(Thanks to Chris Gissing for reminding me of this URL.)

i'm pretty sure we're all speaking english



While watching "What Not to Wear" (a delightfully bitchy programme in which a pair of women bully a selected victim into throwing away all her old clothes, then send her on a �2,000 shopping spree whilst barking out "PUT THAT HIDEOUS DRESS BACK ON THE RACK" periodically), Paul and I experienced a bit of a language barrier. I said to him, "Is this the episode with the woman who's a jock?". The following conversation ensued:

"Scottish?"

"No, a jock. Sporty."

"What? A Scottish Spice Girl?"

[laughter due to thinking that Paul is deliberately pulling my leg] "A jock! Sporty! A person who plays sports!"

[confused/my girlfriend is completely insane look appears on Paul's face]



Apparently, the term "jock" isn't used in the same context here. I learn something new every day.