why mcmuffin, why?

Well mystery bug is getting a lot more interesting. I've been up a couple of hours and have spent far too much time in the bog. I reckon I've got a bit longer before the fatigue hits again, so I have decided to answer those queries I usually get when posting on other blogs, as to whether McMuffin is our real name.

Of course it isn't! Mr McMuffin has a proper Scottish surname, not one of those pseudo Scot names so beloved of the Aussies and the North Americans. We decided to go anonymous after feeling a bit uneasy about the excellence of google searches, and my paranoia that a disgruntled client might track me down (it's happened to colleauges).

McMuffin was an easy choice as Mr McMuffin's brother organised our wedding, and kept calling it 'The McMuffin Wedding,' to our mutual amusement. He also calls us Ian and Myra due to a dodgy photo he saw, so you can see why McMuffin was preferable.

I haven't taken Mr McMuffin's surname as I have a perfectly good one of my own. We sometimes double barrel as we like the enormousness of the name, but hardly ever use it. I never call myself 'Mrs' in real life, so it seemed a sweet idea to do it online. We also thought it gave the right sort of formica/gingham/tupperware impression that we craved! I also think it makes me sound very 'respectable' and less likely to attract the attentions of online nutters...and that's how the McMuffins were born.

a little explanation

I have spent this afternoon dozing and feeling grotty from mystery bug having excused myself from work at lunchtime. I'm a lot more alert now, and back with the Mac. I feel a little bit more explanation of scary things is required. Jeff Goldblum and Kim Basinger repulsed me in the 80's and early 90's, but I am less frightened of them now. Kim just seemed to be so pink and made of plasatic, and Jeff's lips looked like they were always wet. Gene Wilder continues to frighten me immensely, and I found 'The Orchid Thief' difficult to watch because Nic Cage looks so much like him in this film, I think it's the hair. Even writing about it makes me faintly nauseous.

I have also omitted my fear of drowning in the tut Mr McMuffin fills our house with, he is the kind of pack rat that pack rat parents hold up as an inspirational model to their offspring. I now have a rule, that if he buys something new for the kitchen, he has to throw something out. He was very pleased with himself for buying some enormous bowls, and then proceeded to throw a tiny one away complaining that he'd never liked Italian stuff, apparently it chips too easily. Sometimes I just feel like emailing his therapist with a list of things I want fixed!

I have also discovered via an email from Dutch friend that I am collecting her from Heathrow on Saturday. She thinks it is very kind of me. So do I, and I wonder when I am going to offer! Despite my fear of flying, I love airports, so I'm not too bothered by this. However, it would have been nice to know, Mr McMuffin!

So what has Mr McMuffin done to deserve such a bashing? Absolutely nothing! Someone has to pay when I don't feel healthy but am not proper sick, and he was daft enough to marry me 'in SICKNESS and in health'. I feel better now.

mr and mrs mcmuffin's scary things

Obviously scary things:

Nuclear, biological and chemical warfare
Tory governments
Nasty accidents
Poverty

Specifically scary things:

Being so rich I lose touch with everyday folk (Mr McMuffin, he wishes)
Spiders
Moths
Daddy long legs
The long years of work ahead
Losing our minds
Going blind/deaf/paralysed

Mr McMuffin's particular fears:

Growing a third arm out of his forehead (but admits this might be useful)
Being a lonely grumpy old man
Being forced to live with his family again
The Turn of the Screw (and films thereof)

Mrs McMuffin's particular fears:
Robots
Flying
Heights
Enclosed spaces
Going to hospital/doctor/dentist/hairdressers
Jeff Goldblum, Kim Basinger and especially Gene Wilder
Official letters
Being found out

more daleks

Mrs McMuffin was insistent. This is the stuff of nightmares...apparently. You can also download a bit of the original 1963 theme music from here, or if you are really brave, you can relive those moments of Dalek terror here and here. Don't be afraid to go to sleep tonight...be very afraid!

not bad, actually...

...Mr McMuffin speaks the truth on the Galactica, if you've any interest at all in wondering what became of the Cylons. then watch this.

We did go to see a film yesterday, and thoroughly enjoyed 'Starsky and Hutch'. Like Steve, we were convulsed at 'making like dragons' and laughed long after everyone else had stopped. The best bit for me was the return of the cardigan, I shall wear my mid calf knitted coat with pride, as a tribute to this magnificent garment.

Today is crap, I've lost an hour and gained a cold that will not express itself properly. It just hangs around making me (and Mr McMuffin) miserable. My head hurts, I ache, and my sinuses feel all stuffed. The only thing that helped was the big bowl of soup that Mr McMuffin brought me.

On a happier note, the Welsh team did good yesterday. I try not to watch as I have a superstition that if I do they lose. This even works when I am out of the UK, last year I watched them lose from a bar in Mallorca. I couldn't resist tuning in yesterday as big sis was in the Millennium Stadium and I wanted to see if I could see her. I phoned my Mum to discuss the score, and Italy scored a try. Now my Mum also believes in my superstition, and told me to turn off the tv. Before I could reach for the remote, I think the Italians got a conversion, but I wasn't sure. After the match, Mum phoned me to tell me the good news, and thank me on behalf of the people of Wales for my cooperation.

battlestar galactica

We just watched the Battlestar Galactica mini series, and what can I say...it was brilliant. We were gripped from begining to end. Gone are all the silly chrome bits and the terrible 70s design and in comes a much more realistic military look. The Cylons look great, although we didn't get to see much of them. Apparently, the SciFi channel has commissioned a new 13 part series to start in December 2004. I can't wait.

mouse killer

Don't tell Mr McMuffin, but I almost killed our wireless mouse by unintentionally hurling it to the floor. I've got it working now, so he'll never know. He's out today with Ms Ginger Cake training some foster carers, I hope it goes well for them. It does rather cut into decorating the room of shame though.

I think I'm going to have a housebound day today as I really can't be bothered to go out. THe downside is that I may feel forced to clean and tidy the house properly in preparation for Dutch friend's visit next weekend. Gottverdomme!

As the thought of cleaning is hardly alluring, I am finding it hard to leave the Mac. It doesn't help that it sits in the dining room calling to me, instead of decently tucked away where I don't have to pass it all the time.

Right Mrs McMuffin, here's the plan:

Clean kitchen and bathroom, drink coffee and blog

Clean bedrooms, do washing, change bedding, eat and blog

Clean living room and dining room and watch tv

When Mr McMuffin returns home, listen adoringly to his day and in manner of 1950's housewife receive his admiring comments on the sparkliness of your home.

Get pissed off with Mr McMuffin for not being around to do his share, as you detest housework. Argue, make up, decide to go out to do something, perhaps to see a film. Argue about what film to see, and which cinema to go to. Sulk, stay in, remind Mr McMuffin you are perfectly content with a book if he wants to watch a bad film on DVD. Annoy him by sitting on settee while he is watching film making comments about how crap it is. Flounce out and blog about what a bastard he is.

I Robot

I was reading Kirsty over at Boblog (still can't do little linky thing, and it must be so easy if Mr McMuffin can do it) and she had a great post about the disappointment of her class at the robots on Mars. They expected them to be incredibly sophisticated androids. I started waffling about my fear of the things, and immediately thought of Cybermen and Daleks.

Doctor Who was so fantastic when I was a child, I'm sure that so many of us hid behind the settee when the Daleks came on, and I'm not sure why we were so scared. First of all they spoke in silly, tinny voices and they couldn't even go up stairs to get you. They looked like Christmas trees with upside down saucepans for heads, but they were truly terrifying to me, particularly when they became able to hover. As children we went to some exhibition where you could get inside a Dalek and make it move. Gypsy Tart thought that this was fun, but I ran out screaming.

Now I'm grown up I really enjoy the gay Daleks on tv, and am desperate to go to a fancy dress party as one. I even pretend to be Davros at work sometimes (sit on a chair with wheels, put a coat over your legs and try to look shrivelled, with one hand sticking out, and use your feet to push the chair, and you can chase people round the room). I think that this is one way of managing my fear, but if right now I heard 'Exterminate' I really think I would run and hide.

he doesn't pay rent

Little Slinky has officially moved in. He refuse to return to his home except occasionally to eat, and comes back as quickly as possible.

Last night Gypsy Tart came over to get her suitcase back from me, and our nice neighbour knocked at the door. She went to open it and Slinky went along to see what was happening. When he saw it was his owner he ran upstairs. Now our neighbour is very nice, and is not a cat abuser or anything, but how must she have felt to see her expensive pet hiding from her? I feel very bad about it, but cats just go where they want to. You don't really have a choice about it. My old cat, Gilbert, always used to hang out with some elderly neighbours and just come home to vomit up the liver they fed him.

Slinky has settled into a nice routine now we have given up on throwing him out. He insists on sleeping on, and in our bed, and I was very glad of this last night, as the house was still very cold. I am one of those weird people who chucks out a load of heat at night, and Slinky, love him, never complains.

I am also very pleased with Tony Blair today. In my simple little world, I think that he is setting a good example for once. He's also grabbed a load of business for Britain which I'm not quite so sure about.

I have also liked reading 'Jarhead' by Anthony Swofford (***), but nothing else I've read recently has really grabbed my attention. I still haven't taken those silly 'Bible Code' books back to my colleague yet, as I still don't know what to say about them without offending her.

so much colder...

...Mrs Carrot Cake has reminded me of our more intrepid past. I used to be a Venture Scout, I never meant to be, but when I realised it was a drinking club for people who wanted to do outdoorsy stuff I just had to join up. I even got Mrs Carrot Cake to come along as well, no mean achievement to get her to swap her stilletto's for walking boots.

Anyway, we used to have several expeditions a year. New Year was always very good, and in the late 80's we went to stay in Derbyshire. We stayed in a practically derelict building halfway up a mountain. It had walls, a roof and cold running water, but not much else. There was a vile chemical toilet outside, and it got so cold that the toilet froze. In the girl's room we used to go to bed wearing as many thermal layers as possible and snuggle into our 5 season sleeping bags. The moisture in our breath would freeze on the ceiling overnight, and as the sun rose, and the temperature in the room rose above freezing it would then rain down on us.

By day we would go mountain climbing, rock climbing and a whole host of other rufty tufty type activities. By night we learned to drink massive amounts of alcohol and contemplate the cold night ahead. I am amazed that we did this for fun.

Last year we had a reunion on the day of the big anti war march, and I rushed back to attend. It was incredible how we all seemed so bonded by our shared experiences and memories, and really touching that we all still liked each other so much. One year on, and I haven't been in touch with any of them, except the lovely Mrs Carrot Cake, and Gypsy Tart! As you may recall, Gypsy Tart is my sister, so it would be hard to shake her off. Ah, memories, memories.