I recently did one of those emails where you list 3 interesting facts about yourself for each category. The idea was to tell your friends something about yourself that they might not already know. For example, one item asked me for three jobs I've had - so I entered Radio Voiceover girl, PR Consultant, and Toy Shop Salesperson. Then we had "Three foods you love" and I wrote Croissants, Green Grapes, and OMG Trident Hot and Spicy Noodles. They are awesome enough to elicit Oh My God, you see. And then I wrote Hamburgers, Bacon, Camembert, Tzatziki, Marinated Asparagus, Pizza, French Fries, Chocolate... ahem.
Anyway, I sent the email to a handful of people, including my aunt G, who's in her 60s and new at this whole "intarweb" thing. So far she has mastered Booting Computer, Connecting to Internet, and Typing on Skype. (We're still in the novice stages of Email, because every 30 days Gmail asks her to sign in again, and she calls me in a panic because "Gmail is gone" aka "I can't see my emails, and what's all this about a username and password?")
Apparently she paid real attention to this email. When she and my mother arrived for their visit last weekend, she had contributed to the Great Grocery Giveaway (see, "my mother always brings me food"). Among the goodies were croissants, because I like them. Then we had green grapes, because I like them. But missing, she explained, were the noodles, because she searched and searched but she just couldn't find the right brand.
I could see my sister cover her mouth at the other end of the room, trying not to laugh. Do you know how hard it is not to laugh when someone else does that?
I CAN'T BELIEVE I haven't already blogged about this game.This is seriously addictive. It looks so ordinary, but it's a really great game. If you've ever played Risk, it's vaguely related, but simpler (and faster). This is the sort of game that can keep me procrastinating from stuff for HOURS.
I believe I owe you an apology. I've been remiss, in that I didn't advise the internet accordingly that I'd be AWOL a few days spending time with family and friends. Accordingly, this entry is being released several days late, which will cause a rip in the space-time continuum. Mea culpa.
My mum, sister and aunt came to visit for a few days, bringing a friend's kid with them. It was an interesting time filled with laughter, card games and conversation. My mother, as usual, arrived with bags of groceries (thanks, Mum!) There's some idea she has that if she doesn't do this, I will starve. Now I am not rich by any means, but food comes first and we always have enough to eat. I even have enough to make extravagant purchases like the occasional Coca-Cola and chocolates. I can only conclude that since she knows I have money for eating, that perhaps she doubts my intellectual ability to locate a supermarket.
So my cupboards are now full to overflowing with coffee, chips, crackers, several varieties of noodles and huge towers of canned soup. At every meal, some guest whipped out their wallet and bought us all fast food. AND the dumb part is that I had already stocked up on meal-type things so that I could feed the four guests (none of which was even touched).
The good part is however, that my house is clean. My lawn is mowed. My bathtub is spotless, all the washing up is done, and the clean clothes outnumber the dirty ones.
I think he had designs on wearing jeans to the ceremony itself. Since I'm a spoil-sport, I poured cold water on that idea and insisted on him at least dressing up. I will be wearing a wedding dress for the occasion - but it will be made in a sweat shop on a shoestring budget. In fact, I'm recruiting five-year-old sewing experts this week.
In all seriousness, I intend to have A Cake. But there ain't no way I could spend hundreds of dollars on a lump of flour and sugar. You'll have to forgive me if you're someone whose own connubial dessert involved seven layers of confection held up with pseudo-marble plastic pillars topped with a solid gold peace dove. I liked this image that I found somewhere in Internet Land:
I particularly liked it because the "artist" was not a professional cake decorator and had told the bride her cake would not look professional - she calls it a "rustic" look. The series of cakes was her gift to the couple and the bride was apparently thrilled.
The other reason I liked the look of these cakes is that she said they were easy. Awesome! I can SO do this. And so yesterday I embarked on what I expected to be a simple recreation of the cakes in the picture.
In an astounding fluke, mixing an entire large block of cooking chocolate into a Home Brand vanilla cake mix actually tastes awesome. I wasn't aiming for gourmet cake, I just wanted something heavy enough to put icing on, and I was pleasantly surprised. And so the icing. I crumb coated it but was too impatient for it to set properly (of course, it then lifted off the cake and bits of it ended in the final coat - but hey it's a learning experience).
The icing then didn't really look all that smooth. It was rough-looking. Next time, I'll put more milk in it.
Then I decided to have a play around with the piping bag, since I've never used one. Well, that baby is hard to master. I mean, it looks so easy! It's not :(
I now have a chocolate mud cake with chocolate icing, covered with a piping "design" on the top.
The whole concoction looks like a five-year-old slapped the icing on with a spade, and then her three-year-old brother got hold of Mummy's piping bag and added the decoration. The cake strongly resembles runny dog turd.
After some reflection a while ago, I decided it was way too impersonal to refer to my kids by their first initials. I realise they're entitled to their privacy, but in the end, it looks more like a robotic rendition of item specifications than musings about my family. Although various incarnations of my full name are quite readily available on the intarweb if you're Sherlock Holmes-inspired (along with some of my past lives as a game coder, LAN-aholic and writer), I'll endeavour not to disclose my childrens' surnames. Suffice to say, if you were insane enough to play detective and discover the three labels my parents chose for my birth certificate, you're still unlikely to find the three I hoisted onto each of my offspring. (Admittedly, I would wonder at your train of thought if you went fishing for my alter-egos. It's not that interesting a kaleidoscope of an existence.)
This brings me to my reason for the reasoning. A snippet about my 12-year-old son Jay, which occurred some time ago during the school holidays. Being way too hot for anything remotely human during the day, I'd shifted my sleeping pattern somewhat, which allowed me to paint while it was dark and cool. He has always been a real morning person, rising at 6am regardless of how late he has stayed up the night before, and this particular morning he sauntered into the living room at about 5.30am, immediately booting the laptop for some dawn City of Heroes goodness. (Yes, I'm raising them as geeks. Yes, I'm proud.)
He noticed that the living room air conditioner was already churning, and that the door to my bedroom was wide open, which is generally an Offense Punishable By Death™. It had been this way because I was painting the ceiling - something I hate, but was necessary. The entire house reeked of paint, and I was waiting for it to dry so I could finish the task.
He asked why it was open? "Because I need to keep the room cool so I can work in there." And then Jay points out a white mark on my foot. "Oh yeah, it's paint."
..."Have you been painting?"
I probably pulled a really dumb face at that. I'm sure I responded with pure maternal love, aka, "Can't you smell the paint, idiot? What the hell is wrong with you? How could you not notice that?!"
My dearest quoted a newspaper article about alien life forms. I'll risk boring you all to tears. Hey, nobody's forcing you to read!
(Don't you dare leave. Read it now.)
Him: "The current research estimates that there are at least 361 intelligent civilisations in our Galaxy and possibly as many as 38,000." Now that's a nice precise guesstimate, lol
Elisa: very. scientific even.
Him: And I had thought they had yet to find any exoplanet that actually could support life...
Elisa: They should have just said they'd narrowed it down exactly to "sum numberz of peoplez".
Him: "While researchers often come up with overall estimates... 'It's a process of quantifying our ignorance.' "
Him: Ă–mg, I need to be paid for making ignorant guesses too! *
Elisa: I need to be paid for finding scientific-y-sounding explanations for not having a clue.
Him: "It's a process of quantifying our ignorance." Now that's a good quote. Hey, I have an idea! Let's pool all our ignorance together and make some wild guesses! Anyone up for that?
Elisa: Hey, we're all scientists, let's release an official-sounding statement about not having any idea!
So yeah... anyone wanting to offer me such a job, please feel free to contact me.
~ Elisa
* Umläuts äre funny. They're cäused by wäcky Euröpeän keyböärds.
PS. It pained me to do that. I feel an uncontrollable urge to apply Finnish pronunciation to the above sentence.
I had to put in that title there, because well, these days you can't make an innocent obnoxious internet post without offending SOMEONE, can you? (Hypothetical only: if you, the reader, don't even make internet posts, I guess you're off the hook.)
So a running joke among my IRC clansmen is that Deidre is to blame for all that is wrong in this world. I have identified myself as Deidre on more than one occasion. And to my eldest mini-geek I have even declared that it was Deidre who ate the last croissant. It's a nice, useless little non-existent entity to hold responsible for um, pretty much anything. I once even used it at St Vincent de Paul as the person who left all the empty coat-hangers in a pile behind the cash register.
Side note: For non-Strayans, Vinnies stores are like Goodwill. I "work" there as a volunteer.
So my SO and I are currently playing an Intarweb game, one of several that we play together, and in the game we're married, and have a child, named Deidre (of course). Deidre gains a year of age each day. She's currently 14. Each day one of us must fulfil her needs.
And in a remarkable parallel to my RealLife™, I forget. Unfortunately Deidre either doesn't notice or just chooses not to say anything about the fact she hasn't eaten since yesterday. She asks for stuff like a pencil and paper, or a story to read, or a gingerbread man. Or yoghurt.
My poor long-suffering SO had to remind me to log in and look after her today. Oops. This is Deidre ----->
Notice the lovely, curvy, adolescent figure? The breasts? The general "I can look after myself pretty well since I am almost an adult" demeanor?
Today what she needed was "Anti-diarrhoeic granules". Well, ok, I suppose occasionally someone picks up a bit of Bali Belly. But here's the killer. The description reads: "Are you tired of having to change diapers? Give your child a few anti-diarrhoeic granules and you won't even have to put another diaper on your child."
I think that's what all parents of 14-year-old girls need. An end to changing poopy backsides.
I know that I can't WAIT until my own daughter Aria turns 14 just so that I can sell my shares in Pampers and shove her mouth full of Immodium instead.
My 12-year-old son Jay says this game is AWESOME. I believe that's as glowing a recommendation as one can ever hear. Not only that, it has music that gets stuck in your head, and it involves instrumentals of popular tunes.
It's not exactly a "beautiful" picture today but more of a "cute picture". This is Pemba, the 44th red panda cub born at Sydney's Taronga Zoo. He is four months old and has just made his first public appearance - eating a yummy grape.
Ok, I'm not really, I think it's more a case of someone Googling themselves. Hey, I've done it myself (albeit, I wanted to see if I had any penetration into the masses... sadly not!)
My friend Linda sent this to me, and I was transported backwards a decade in time.
This girl never would have dreamed what was included in her ticket price.
I had every one of U2's albums, I had several U2 t-shirts, and I had an ENORMOUS poster that covered most of one wall in my bedroom. I even had the sheet music to The Joshua Tree. I can blame classmate Rod for the obsession, because I sat next to him in Computing and he was obsessed with U2 and I was curious what was so great about them so I went and bought Rattle and Hum on cassette. And then it was game on.
If Bono had done this to me in 1989 MY LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN COMPLETE.
It's coming, and it's coming for me. I will be unlucky in love. I will have something disastrous happen. I will get bad sex for seven years and all my toenails will fall off. Somewhere in China a newborn baby with severe lung cancer from cigarettes will die, all because of me. All because I didn't pass this on to every person in my address book:
Give this rose @)-;--- to everyone you care about including me if you care. See if you get a dozen by Valentine's Day!
Do you have ANY IDEA how many of those damned things I got? (Neither have I. Lots.)
So I got a dozen, with a few to spare. A few dozen to spare, dude. And?
And?
AND WHAT? So I got a dozen. Why isn't my screen flashing and a bear jumps into the middle and stars singing a Britney Spears song, or something?
If I press CTRL + N + F3, will something amazing happen?
Will one of my fondest wishes come true? Will a classmate I haven't seen since 1984 suddenly call me with important news? Will daffodils spontaneously fill my front garden? I wish they would...
People. I like to think I'm not friends with idiots. So, alright, I'll forgive you sending all the "roses", since it must mean you care for me. But what were you thinking when you sent me that photo of the four puppies and the kisses, JUST IN CASE you might get eight years' bad dog luck if you don't forward it within 30 seconds?
And the fundraisers. Oh the fundraisers. Dude, AOL doesn't care about the sweet little Pakistani girl with a goat growing on her forehead. They won't send 3 dollars for anyone forwarding that bullshìt. And Microsoft won't send three cents even if EVERYONE you have ever emailed since you got your awesome Hotmail account in 1993 reads the heartstring-tugging story THAT IS HEAPS TRUE because the email said IT WAS ON CNN.
People, I won't even love you, OR forward your mail, even if you send it in Hot Pink 16-point Comic Sans. In fact, do that and I might just un-remember who you are. My eyes, they bleed with the poor choice of font which breaks all rules of good taste! MY KINGDOM FOR VERDANA! Or even Arial. Or MS Sans Serif. Or Kristen ITC. Don't get me started on my love affair for Kristen ITC.
Dooce made me grin today. In her archives she covered Utah's Proposition 3 (if you have no idea what that was... just think "Utah's version of Prop8 in California" ie, "You can't get married here, gay people, there aint no room at the Inn for folks like you!").
She had also recently commented that once she was at a Tupperware party full of Utah women* and there was a REAL LIVE LESBIAN in the room, and thank God none of the women knew, or the sanctity of their marriages would instantly dissolve.
(I laughed at that. SO TRUE! Hide your wedding albums and cover your childrens' ears, because if a lesbian arrives, LIFE AS YOU KNOW IT WILL BE OVER.)
And so I was relating this to my SO and his response is...
Him: Damn lesbians! All they want to do is sleep with your woman!
Me: Yes. They have no interest in what your wife looks like, they want to steal every woman, and will do so regardless of the married woman's lack of interest in the lesbian. They threaten relationships everywhere.
Him: *nods* Just by existing.
Me: And for straight women, it's impossible to be friends with a lesbian, because they can't be just friends. Finding women attractive means they find ALL women attractive and in addition they cannot keep their hands off women everywhere, in fact most lesbians have problems going to the supermarket because they'll inevitably have to have sex with 30 or 40 people before they can take their groceries home.
Him: Just like all gay men want to do every other guy up the ass. Especially all the straight guys.
Me: Yes. Yes they do. Because, a gay man can convert a straight guy by doing him up the batty. Just like a straight guy can "cure" two hot lesbian porn stars, if they would just jump into his bed for a couple of hours.
Him: Yes! All lesbian sex is just pretend kissing and posing in case some guy happens to be around. They'll still be lesbians, but they just can't resist sandwiching any guy who walks in with his piece in his hand.
Me: Absolutely. Because they TOTALLY love penis. And his is the BIGGEST ONE THEY HAVE EVER SEEN which for a lesbian is Manna from Heaven.
After that, he went off on some tangent about how the only use for lesbians is to make the pizza delivery guy arrive at the door, since we all know that the girls are only making out while they wait for a guy to accidentally walk in on them, and then he will selflessly offer to "sort things out" using his genitals.
* Actually, they were Mormon women, but since being Mormon isn't a prerequisite for h8ing on the GLBT community, we'll just say they're from Utah, since Utah passed Prop 3.
And here's a meme I was sent, which I found kinda amusing. Up first is the finished product, a letter to my 12-year-old son.
Dear Jay,
I don't really know how to tell you this, but our socks don't match. I think I realised it when I finally changed my underwear under the bus and I saw you sit on the Olympic Soccer Team's goalie. I'm sure you're scarred enough to understand that I'm allergic to your earlobes. I'm returning the couch cushions to you, but I'll keep your collection of chewed gum as a memory. You should also know that I confessed today about the moose poaching and I will haunt you when I'm reincarnated as an eskimo.
I hope the elastic in your underwear breaks, Mum.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
How to play:
Answer all these questions first.
1) What's the colour of your shirt? Blue - I'm in love with your cat Red - Our affair is over White - I’m joining the Convent Black -Our romance is over Green- Our socks don't match Grey - You're a leprechaun Yellow - I'm selling myself for chocolate Pink - Your nostrils are insulting Brown - The mafia wants you No shirt - Purple hedgehogs want to destroy you Other -I dislike your eyelashes
2) Which is your birth month? January - That night you picked your nose February -When I quoted Forest Gump March - When your dwarf bit me April - When I tripped on peanut butter May - When I threw up in your sock drawer June - When you put cuffs on me July – When you smacked my butt August - when your hippo had twins September - Last year when you peed your pants October - When we skinny dipped in the bathtub November - When your dog humped my leg December - When I finally changed my underwear
3) Which food do you prefer? Tacos - In your apartment Chicken- In your car Pasta - Outside of your office Hamburgers - Under the bus Salad – As you were eating cardboard Lasagna - In your closet Kebab - on the Jerry Springer Show Fish - In a clown suit Sandwiches - At the Elton John concert Pizza - At the mental hospital Hot dog - Under a street light Other- in bed with Bill Gates
4) What's the color of your socks? Yellow - Ignore Red - Put whipped cream on Black - Hit on Blue - Knock out Purple - Pour syrup on White - Carve your initials into Grey - Pull the clothes off Brown - bite off Orange - Castrate Pink - Pull the pants off Barefoot - Sit on Other - Drive over
5) What's the color of your underwear? Black - My boyfriend White - My father Grey – The Catholic Priest Brown – The Olympic Soccer Team’s goalie Purple - My corned beef sandwich Red – My knee caps Blue - My laundry bucket Yellow - My illegitimate child in Ghana Orange - My Blink 182 cd Pink – Your ‘My Little Pony’ collection Other --The elephant in the corner
6) What do you prefer to watch on TV? Movies - Senile Re-Runs- Frostbitten Star Trek -Middle-class Simpsons- Cowardly The news - Scarred American Idol - Masochistic Cartoons - Open Top Model - High Other -shamed
7) Your mood right now? Happy - How awful you are Sad - How boring you are Bored - That I get turned on only by garbage men Angry - That your smell makes me vomit Depressed – That we’re related Excited - That I may pee my pants Nervous - The middle-east is planning their revenge on you Worried - That your Ford sucks Curious - That you need a sex-change Silly - That I'm allergic to your earlobes Cuddly - That Santa doesn't exist Ashamed - That there is no solution to you being a dumb kid Other - That your driving sucks
8) What's the color of your walls in your bedroom? White - Your toe ring Yellow - Your green shirt with the frills Red - your Barbie underwear Black - Your pet rock Blue - The couch cushions Green - Your hedge clippers Orange - Your false teeth Brown - Your nose hair clippers Grey - Our matching snoopy underwear Purple - Your old New Kids on the Block blanket Pink - the naked photographs of your mother Other - Your Hannah Montana underwear
9) The first letter of your first name? A/B - your virginity C/D - Your photo with the moustache drawn on it E/F - Your neighbors dog G/H - The oil tank from your car I/J - Your left ear K/L - The results of that blood-sample M/N - Your glass eye O/P - last night's dinner Q/R - your dining table S/T - Your collection of chewed gum U/V - Your criminal record W/X – Your car keys Y/Z - Your credit cards
10) The last letter in your last name? A/B - Love your sweet, sweet butt C/D - Always will remember the rotten eggs E/F - laugh at your middle name every time I think of you G/H – Will not tell the authorites that you stole the whale from the backyard. I/J – Mocked you behind your back constantly K/L - Hate your cooking M/N - confessed today about the moose poaching O/P - Told my psychiatrist about the bruises Q/R - Always wanted to break your legs S/T - Get sick when I think of your feet U/V - Will try to forget that you broke my heart W/X - Haven’t showered in a month Y/Z – am better off without you
11) What do you prefer to drink? Wine- Our friendship is ruined Soft drink – I’m off to lead a new life as a grapefruit Coffee – I will haunt you when I’m reincarnated as an Eskimo Milk - The apartment building is on fire Water – I'm scratching my butt as you read this Cider– I have a passionate interest in mice Juice – You ruined my attempts at another world war Mineral/Vitamin water – You should get that embarrassing rash checked Hot chocolate – Your apple-fetish is weird Whiskey - I love Oprah Winfrey Beer – Thanks for the jewellery Other – you should stop picking your nose
12) To which country would you prefer to go on a vacation? Thailand – Warm tingly sensations Australia - Best of luck on the sex change France - Love always Spain - With tears of sadness China – You make me sick Germany – Please don’t hurt me Japan - Go milk a cow Greece - Your everlasting enemy USA - Greetings to your frog Leonard Egypt – Kiss my butt England - Go drown yourself Elsewhere - I hope the elastic in your underwear breaks
Then fill in the gaps.
Dear (last person you talked to), I don't really know how to tell you this, but (1). I think I realised it (2) (3) and I saw you (4) (5). I'm sure you're (6) enough to understand (7). I'm returning (8) to you, but I'll keep (9) as a memory. You should also know that I (10) and (11)
This one has got me very interested indeed. For today's game (which is several days late because I forgot about games - sorry) I went looking for a very arcade 80s-retro style, but I stumbled on Anika's Odyssey on the way, and I was just too sidetracked.
I recently did one of those emails where you list 3 interesting facts about yourself for each category. The idea was to tell your friends something about yourself that they might not already know. For example, one item asked me for three jobs I've had - so I entered Radio Voiceover girl, PR Consultant, and Toy Shop Salesperson. Then we had "Three foods you love" and I wrote Croissants, Green Grapes, and OMG Trident Hot and Spicy Noodles. They are awesome enough to elicit Oh My God, you see. And then I wrote Hamburgers, Bacon, Camembert, Tzatziki, Marinated Asparagus, Pizza, French Fries, Chocolate... ahem.
