Monday, April 27, 2015

Matthew 7:3-5

I'm a horrible reader. I need to find my inner Zen when it comes to reading things.
I trip over one word that wrankles for some reason, and I'm out of the game, it's like I'm wearing a hair shirt, metaphorically, writhing around in discomfort, my brain firing out alternatives and reasons why the word's wrong. And often it's a word that everyone is using - but I can't enjoy the writing anymore. Typos, word misuse, personal pet peeve words... ugh. I'm awful.

In the last few days, I've come across the phrase, 'I let out a whelp', which was meant to be meant as a yelping sound, but as far as I know only means a newborn pup. I know 'whelp' is an exclamation sometimes, but 'a whelp', no - so what I had was an image of a woman tied to a bed in the middle of a gang bang giving birth to a puppy spontaneously, and that was it, it was all over for me.

I have similar reactions to to commonly used words. One is 'want' in place of 'desire' - when did that start happening? You're overcome with want? Want is a noun now? I thought it meant a lack, as in 'for want of a nail, the shoe was lost'. Now it suddenly means desire. And every time I see it I get shaken out of the story and think, grr! Same for 'hit'. For me, hit is a verb, and as a noun it means a chart topper. But it's used in place of smack, or stroke, or blow now, thirty hits to my butt... nooo, please no. It sounds so clumsy.

Anyway, yes, see how my train of thought works, in the middle of nice stories? And the worse thing is, I am also tormented by my own petty pernicketiness. It's not fun to feel like this. It's not fun to jolt over extraneous apostrophes as if they were tripwires. It's pants. And I don't know what to do about it. How do I put down the red pen? 

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

fat jokes

I have this very attractive colleague, he's 42, if I remember correctly, he mountain bikes competitively and is in great shape. He's very funny, good at being overly familiar in a nice way, very kind, full of teasing. He brightens the day, really, I appreciate his presence.

Yesterday, though, I think he horrified himself by saying something out loud I suspect he meant to say in his head.

I was lamenting the lack of a blind in my classroom, as no one can see the board. There were just himself and another young colleague in our tiny staffroom after work. I wondered if there was anything I could bring in to hang in the window that would do to block the shine, as I don't think a blind will be particularly forthcoming.

He instantly piped up, 'A pair of your knickers?'

Now, generally in my workplace, which is female-dominated, we don't do fat jokes. Generally, here, it's impossible to lament your fatness, even as an obese person, because someone rushes in to tell you you're fine. Actually, I'm not sure that goes for me any more, as I've clearly crossed the line at this stage, but still. There tends to be an elephant in the room during these conversation, still, these days, and yes, that elephant is me.

So... though Dan's joke was gasp-worthy, slightly shocking, funny in its utter meanie rudeness (you're not supposed to mention the gigantic nature of my ass!) it was also refreshing, and a little comforting in its honesty and chilled outedness. I really don't think he meant to say it, but I'm glad he did. And I also kicked him, as really, if manners maketh the man, telling a lady she has a huge arse get you kicked in your own one.  


I am so very white-skinned that my boobs are kinda see-through in bright sunshine.

I'm trying not to be grossed out by that. 

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

I usually avoid these things like the plague, because I am truly, deeply boring. And this is a disappointment to the nominator and all the poor people who might read, expecting scintillation. But I like little random questions. So feck it. 
The award comes with rules, so if you are nominated, you are required to do the following:
 *Usually I take delight in ignoring the rules, cos fuck you, I won't do what the internet tells me, but here they are. I might not provide eleven facts.

  1. Thank the person who nominated you and link to their blog.
  2. Answer the questions provided by the person who nominated you.
  3. Provide eleven random facts about yourself.
  4. Nominate 5-11 blogs that you feel deserve the award and have less than one thousand followers.
  5. Create a new list of questions for the bloggers to answer.

Here are Abi Rode's questions: 

Bacon or sausages? You can only have one…
Well, as a vegetarian, I want neither, but if we're talking protein substitutes, I'll go for some Fakin' over the ubiquitous veggie sausage. Why do they try to recreate gristle? That's why I gave up meat in the first place... 
When a plane lands is it ever acceptable to clap?
Eh, yeah? If there's Weather, and the pilot lands smoothly, or with difficulty, maybe?
What do you crave when you’re hungover?
Grease. Horribly, sometimes McDonalds, but not really. Fried food, though.
What is the sexiest accent for you?
Sexiest? Hard to say. Scottish, maybe, I love hearing Douglas Henshall saying 'Darlin''. I'm also quite fond of posh English accents, though they amuse me too. Oh, and once a Czech IT guy helped get my computer back online, he was in my computer, and was telling me to do allsorts, I might have turned clockwise three times waving a rowan branch over my head for all I knew what was going on. Suddenly  I was connected again, and I said, 'Oh, it's back! Did that just happen or did you do that?' and he replied, 'Ve did it togezzer' in an extremely sexy, deadpan voice, it was like IT phone sex. So I've a soft spot for Eastern European accents too. 
Where have you been, that would surprise me that you have no interest in returning to? And why? (i.e. somewhere that’s universally thought of as great)
I'm not sure I've been enough places. Armagh, but I don't think anyone really thinks that's great. I hope they don't. God. No, I'd go back everywhere I've been, but I would go other places before I'd go back to Paris, I have to confess. 

 If I made you a cup of tea/cup of coffee/sandwich and it wasn’t to your liking, would you tell me?
Ah, such an Irish thing. As I'd an American mother, my filter isn't great, I probably would. I tell everyone everything. 
If someone had some food on their face, something in their teeth, would you tell them?
See above.
Do you have any strong feelings about your name, first or surname – or if you’re a girl, giving it up?
I did give mine up. This name's a pen name, and as such, fanciful and indulgent. I'm obsessive about my first name because everyone gets the full version wrong, and misspells the short version. SIGH. This bothers me. I bristle. I was happy to give away my father's name, as after all, it's only his abusive father's name as handed down to him. The chance to become someone else appealed to me. And I think I'm more comfortable with my married name, though I don't quite feel I deserve to lay claim to it, somehow
Do you leave voicemails, or just hang up and send a text?
Heh, usually the latter, because I hate listening to voicemails and I don't want to inflict them on anyone else, and I don't trust that they listen to them either. 
What is an unacceptable item of clothing that would have you struggling to forgive?
Eh... in what sense? Like, fur? Or some fashion crime? Fur would be a hard one, and in the latter sense, em... I dunno. Shiny tracksuit? Those uni-ball sack swim suits? Jumpsuits and play suits are deeply dubious, imho.
If you left your country for a year what would be the thing that you would miss the most (we’re assuming you’d miss your family, partner, friends and pets)
Irish humour. Soft rain. Once upon a time, Guinness would have been up there. 

11 Random facts
Ugh, I don't want to do random facts. I struggle not to just put myself down. Erm... that's one. 
I can't turn off my inner proof reader any more, and just read blithely. Misplaced apostrophes scream at me in neon. It wrecks my day every day. I wish I could stop. 
I'm starting to grow white hair now. It's coming.
 I'm 39 this month. 
I have studied philosophy, but I've forgotten what little I managed to understand of it at this stage. 
I think Bagheera was the first fictional character I was ever in love with. 
I've suffered from Trichotillomania for twenty years. It's shit. 
I wish there had been local swimming pools and swim teams when I was in school, because then I could have been good at a sport. 
I think I'm dyspraxic. (It's also shit).
I bake exceedingly good cakes. It's all in the butter and vanilla.

  1. Favourite tv programme du jour? The one you'd stay in bed with toast for 48 hours for. 
  2. Item of clothing that makes you feel sexiest/most confident/most like yourself or all of the above. Em, beside. Whatever. 
  3. What can you forgive easily? 
  4. Pet peeve (apart from that phrase)?
  5. Tell me a beautiful place you've been that stays with you. 
  6. Have you got an internet friendship that you think will endure? Have you met IRL? 
  7. What's your speciality? 
  8. What's the worst thing your parents have bequeathed to you? And the best? 
  9. If you could choose one talent to excel at, what would it be? 
  10. Tell us a horribly embarrassing experience you've had. Go on. 
Ms Rayne, off you go. 
Exhibit A, plz. 
F.Leonora Solomon
Ms Elyot
Jeannette Gray.