give us money...

I thought you should all know that it is now possible to give us money. I put a link to our Paypal account on our site. I suppose you are asking yourself, "why should I give them money?" Well...you should give us money because we are lovely and you will feel better about yourself if you do. I hear you ask, "is it cos we is poor?" No, we have more than enough money. We both have good jobs that pay a very good income, but you should give us money because we are lovely and you will feel better about yourself. I have prepared a frequently asked questions page for this post. Click here to read it.

collage homage...

Slink just looked so cute this morning as he lay sleeping on our bed. He was able to maintain his cuteness even after he had walked over the bed with his muddy feet, and that is saying something. By the way, Mrs McMuffin's grandmother made that quilt.

this is not how we celebrate our love...

Mrs McMuffin was rather taken with this romantic gift found in the pages of Sky Magazine. I heard her muttering, "I'd rather cut my finger off..." I might get it for her as a special surprise.

this is not us...

This is a couple called Mr and Mrs McMuffin. Not sure if that is their real name, but we found them on this fascinating photo site called my train page. It looks like it is a group of train spotters getting together. Some of them have exotic names like Fireball and AlphabetRider. And some of them are just called Jim and Jean. A real insight into the workings of this secretive organisation. Now if we could just work out why the f@*! they do it. By the way, the Mr and Mrs McMuffin in the photos are not us.

lunching lady

I have been a lunching lady today, and met Mrs Carrot Cake and Master Carrot Cake the younger today for a little light shopping and lunch. I've never really got to know her children very well, but from what I've seen they are gorgeous and a real credit to their parents.

We stopped for coffee and Mrs CC had some Earl Grey tea. Master CC (he's not yet 3) just loved the discarded teabag and asked to play with it. Mrs CC was the voice of reason, explaining why it wasn't a great thing to play with, and trying to divert him. He gave her a pained look, and said with some passion, 'But mummy, I need it!' I have to say I found this very funny, it wasn't a case of want, but need. What kind of sick world do we live in when the only thing a toddler needs is a manky old teabag?

Mrs CC is a litle more used to this than me, but I think was still quite amused by her adorable son. I'm not sure how amused she was when my first words to him were 'I'm going to blog about you'. I do applaud his simple tastes though, I don't think I really needed another Le Creuset pot, even at a knockdown price, or the cute little top from Zara.

I also found out that Mrs CC checked the blog before she came out and had read about my encounter with lightning. She was pretty well up to date on my less than diverting life, which didn't affect our ability to chat for hours, but pretty well screwed up my 'I've got to tell you about...' part of the conversation. This must be such a relief to my friends, they no longer have to listen as I act out the flash, the 'zzzz', the thunder and the impact on me for at least 30 minutes, or until I realise they've fallen asleep! I now realise the true usefullness of blogging. Now the big Question is, Mrs CC, when are you going to get yours?

the big tease...

What a great film. Reminds me so much of my little brother, except he is not a hairdresser. But he is a very camp, very bitchy, Glasgow gay man. He's my favourite brother, but don't tell the others. Actually you'd have a job telling one of them because I have just heard that he has been sentenced to nine months in prison for ABH. What's that all about?

Here's a little reminder of the film's hero Crawford Mackenzie.

electricity

I was in the garden earlier on prancing around as the first fat raindrops started to fall. I saw an incredibly bright flash and heard a sizzling sound from about twelve feet away, then the thunderclap sounded. Yes, I was almost barbecued today in my own garden.

Rock Cake wasn't very impressed as he has actually been hit by lightning, but I was still shaky when Ms Ginger cake came round and she must have thought I was drunk, until I explained. This is probably one of the more interesting 'near death' things that has happened to me.

oor wullie...

Who remembers Oor Wullie? This was one of my favourites as a kid, and I always got an album at Christmas time. I think he was probably more of a Scottish character. I am sure he is still around because Mrs McMuffin got me an album one Christmas a few years ago. I think he appears in a strip in one of the Scottish newspapers. I am not sure he travels well, so it is unlikely that many of of our American cousins will have heard of him.

Oor Wullie was such a naughty boy. He was always up to something. I used to love him. You can sample his adventures here. This is probably typical of the sort of story the strip followed.

comics...

Retro Girl has got me thinking about comics. This has always been one of my favourites. It came out in a five part book in 1989, but had been in print before that in the pages of 2000AD. I even have a bit of a connection to the comic. When we lived in Orkney we lived a short distance from Jim Baikie's house and were friendly with one of his daughters. She used to say, "my dad draws comics", but I was probably the only person around who knew that he was in fact one of the early mainstays of 2000AD. Unfortunately I was too cool to gush, and I never got to meet him.

Anyway, who could resist this:

A country torn apart from within. A country revolutionised by genetic engineering. A country where every state has it's own superhuman and one of them is running for President. Now, after six years in exile, five maverick Statesmen are brought back for the annual reunion. But things have changed. Corruption has set in, and they soon find themselves fighting the dark side of the American dream.

gmail

Thought I'd better catch up with the gmail 'issue'. Just been reading about it all. Can't see any advantage to it whatsoever. My Mac Mail app allows me to search my mail easily, and I never bother with sorting or creating special folders. And I don't have to put up with ads. Want a decent email app then why not get yourself a Mac! Always thought the ads on Google were a pain, but necessary for such a good service. They are definitely not necessary for me to have user friendly email. I guess this will not stop it becoming a big success though.

misery hates company

The sun has stopped shining. I blame David (TEFLsmiler) but it's not in my nature to hold a grudge, not much it isn't. Mr McMuffin is spending two days working at home on court reports, I feel very mean, but he's getting in my way. How can I RELAX with someone else around? He's trying to be unobtrusive, but I can hear the poor man everywhere. I would say I can smell him everywhere, but that wouldn't be true, he is very clean. He's driving me mad, he's so chirpy and chatty I want to kill him.

I think I did myself in yesterday as well, I'm being dramatic but I think I had a touch of sunstroke. I felt really headachey and shivery and had to lie down for a while. Today I think I've got hayfever, and I can't find any antihistamine. Still, it's going to rain and rain, so that should dampen the pollen down. See, I can look on the bright side.

Mr McMuffin has been inspired by Gypsy Tart and has been speaking to the Cat Protection League about rescuing a cat. He got a bit carried away when he saw some Burmese lookalikes that needed rehoming. I am doubtful that if we get an adult cat that Slinky will get on with it. Even though Slinky isn't ours, I can't bear the thought of him feeling pushed out. I'm having visions of the poor little chap sitting on the windowsill yowling at us, yet too upset to come in because there is an usurper. Well that's decided it for me, kitten only. At least Slinky will still be bosscat if it's a tiny thing.

The other thing about the CPL is that they seem to be acting like family finding Social Workers, they want to vet our home, do Police and GP checks and complete a full form F. Actually, that's not true but they do take it all very seriously. Having said that, this is the country that had the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals before it had a Society to protect children! I guess we should expect a little scrutinising and psychometric testing.

I am proud to announce that I taught Mr McMuffin to score through words like this and that. Soon I shall be master of weblogs instead of the imbec Imecible stupid person I am.

ola baccara...

Do you remember Baccara? I used to think they were lovely, but I was very young...They seemed very sexy to my adolescent eyes. In 1977 Yes Sir, I Can Boogie [1Mb] was number one on the UK singles chart. Everyone laughed at their accents, but that didn't stop them from buying the song. This was followed by Sorry I'm A Lady [864Kb]. Mrs McMuffin has a dim memory of Baccara but she has been haunted by the tunes ever since. Recently we were talking about them and I had to track down the two big singles. They still sound...er...fabulous, and we have been singing along to them ever since. Today I found a collection of their songs, and this is quite possibly the worst best song of the lot, The Devil Sent You To Lorado[960Kb]. Apparently Baccara have a chequered history with lots of back biting, splits, rival groups called Baccara and that sort of thing. You can read all about them on this very confused fan's site.

the kraken awakes...

...still happy. I'm up early, Mr McMuffin and finding it impossible to sit still. I am not wearing a dressing gown either! I look very nice. So far I have read a book, washed a load of bedding and sorted a load of paper out for recycling. I have also been moving all the psychotherapy/Social Work/Psychology books I can find to the lovely new bookcase in the room of shame. I have also booked a smear test for June, I actually wasn't wimping out, they didn't have anything in the next couple of weeks. It's only 11:16, and I have tons to do, including planting Gypsy Tart's garden.

As I write this, I realise I'm still stuck in work 'busy work busy' mode, and I should try and stop and RELAX for a bit like Mr McMuffin seems able to do. I am beginning to fear that I am constitutionally unable when the sun is shining, it's nature's own amphetamine.

sitting here...

I am just sitting here at work having sent off the report that I have been working on over the weekend. I am contemplating just going home, although I do have some other stuff that I need to do. I have another report to write. The deadline is tomorrow! I am thinking that I might get it done for next Thursday, but still need to speak to the lawyers about that. They always panic a little about deadlines for court. Mrs McMuffin is on holiday for the next week or so. I can imagine her sitting in her dressing gown in front of the computer with a mug of coffee browsing, in that strangely obsessive way she has, all the blogs that she likes. That is always assuming that she is out of bed yet! I wonder if she will do any more gardening today? She beavered away over the weekend and it is beginning to return to it's pre-winter state. I can't wait for the vine to start growing again. The leafy backdrop it provides is lovely. I am beginning to ramble a bit now. I suppose I should get on with my work.

happy clappy

...no religion, I am just happy again. I don't mean to say I am always a miserable cow, but a weekend of warmth and sunshine followed by a week off work, a bank holiday, then interviewing appliants for an MA course for a day, then back to work on Wednesday 5th May makes me even happier. I've also seen my friend who I hadn't spoken to for 18 months today, and that was good. The only downer is I have to book myself in for a smear test this week as I can't cope with the harassing letters from my GP any longer. You may know that this ranks second on my list of hateful things to do, but I don't care today! Today is happy day again.

happy happy

I am made happy by the sun. It is lovely. I have gardened and Mr McMuffin has been swearing while trying to put up the 'expedit' shelves from IKEA. Thankfully Gypsy Tart and Rock Cake are doing similar household stuff, and were able to come round to help us lift them up, so we didn't need to hire a crane.

Rock Cake is in a magazine called 'Paddles'. If you google this, you might think that he has a fetish for spanking. In fact it is a kayaking publication and has a feature on Rock Cake and his friends in Nepal. He is more than a little crazy I think, that stuff is dangerous and unnatural. I shall tell him so later, as we're off out to the Pub for a well deserved pint.

uma thurman...

I was 1 of 6 that enjoyed Kill Bill Vol 2, and I can't wait to see both films back to back. They really are just one long film split in two. I have also been fascinated by Uma Thurman's unfeasibly large hands for many years. You get lots of opportunity to admire her unusual body in this film, and now I shall be looking out for her unfeasibly large feet and unfeasibly large belly button. I am telling you this woman has feet like a Hobbit and a crater on her belly. I imagine that the size of her belly button has something to do with the size of the umbilical cord. It was probably necessary for her to have an extra thick cord to supply all the blood and nutrients needed to grow those hands and feet. That woman's mother must have been sucked dry by those hands and feet.

Having said all of that, there are some scenes in this film where Uma looks simply stunning.

killbilly2 the verdict

6 out of 6 enjoyed the film
4 out of 6 preferred the first one
2 out of 6 got really fidgety and were thinking about leaving
6 out of 6 thought Michael Madsen looked genuinely rough, and not because his character demanded it
4 out of 6 were fascinated by Uma's freakishly large bellybutton, hand and feet
6 out of 6 think she is beautiful but not pretty
5 out of 6 wanted to vomit at a couple of points in the film
All of us had a good time

killing bill...

Just thought I'd make a quick post before setting off to see Kill Bill Vol 2. Six of us are going to meet up at Nandos for something to eat before seeing the film. I can't wait.

my latest obsession...

I must have a new Apple Powerbook. I don't think it is too much to ask. It looks wonderful, of course, and the spec is fantastic. Finally a laptop I can use. I have been playing with the Apple fantasy machine site and this is the version that I want. Best of all, the keyboard glows blue!

• 512MB DDR333 SDRAM - 2 SO-DIMMs
• ATI Mobility Radeon 9700 128MB
• 80GB Ultra ATA drive (4200rpm)
• DVD-R/CD-RW
• AirPort Extreme Card
• Backlit Keyboard & Mac OS
• 1.5GHz PowerPC G4
• 15.2-inch TFT display
• 56K internal modem
• Power Adapter
• Battery

Price: £1,789.01

blog bore

My enthusiasm for blogging appears to be diminishing in direct proportion to the increase in sunlight. I still want to know what people are up to, and to write about our lives, but it's just not as compelling. I'll probably change my mind tomorrow.

I am excited about going to see Kill Bill 2 tomorrow with our chums. I like the first one, and I think this one will be just as good. I love their cartoon villain style of talk and the gore. Even Mr McMuffin does, and he is a romantic fool for film.

Little Slinky is absolutely fine now, which is good. I forgot to mention that he is fascinated by the transformation of the room of shame and enjoyed walking on the wet paint. I found this out by following the tiny white footprints from the room, to the landing, into our bedroom, then it appears he jumped on the bed. By this time the paint had worn away, so I wasn't too fed up with him. I don't care about the carpets he 'ruined' as they are vile and to be disposed of as soon as possible, his little paw prints actually make them look nice for the first time ever. Slinky is a design guru.

My life is becoming more dangerous as Mr McMuffin has bought a new power tool. He has promised not to kill it by taking it apart, but I fear for my life, especially as he has started talking about attaching a whisk head for cooking. I'm such a codependent for excitement.

cat nastiness

He's not even my cat, so why am I up at 1am cleaning up about a pint of cat vomit? It defies logical explanation, but I love little Slinky, and I am worried about him. The poor thing is quite distressed, and I am concerned that his attraction to plastic bags may have undone him. He might have actually eaten one. I think it's going to be a long night, and you don't get much sympathy at work for underperforming for cat related reasons, now if I told them I was up all night with a sick child...

stupid me again

As I sit here, unable to sleep, thinking about my old chum and other seriousness, I feel the need for some lightness to leaven the heavy dough of reflection!

My unfortunate experience with an office chair yesterday led me to recall another embarassing chair related incident at work from some years ago. I worked in the most incredibly busy team with monstrous amounts of child protection work, and in all such environments you find ways of managing the pressure. I think that because our work was so serious and grown up, we became silly adolescents back in the office. One day one of my favourite managers asked me to make a visit with the Police that would mean I wouldn't be home until late AGAIN. To emphasise my despair, I said I was collapsing under the pressure and started sliding down the chair shouting 'I'm melting, I'm melting'.

Unfortunately this chair had arms. My arms slid underneath them, and when I had finished showing off I tried to get them out. I found that I couldn't. I was trapped in the chair, and the more I struggled, the worse it got. After being laughed at for quite some time by my unsympathetic colleagues, they came to my rescue. They couldn't extricate me from the chair either. Forced to contemplate a life attached to an office chair I pleaded for assistance from a good looking firefighter. They decided they'd give it another go rather than call out the fire service (they had been called out not so long before and 3,000 people evacuated due to an alarm set off by my friend making toast) and tipped me on the floor. Fortunately, the chair moved a little, and they worked out that if I sat on the floor they could pull the chair off me backwards.

You would think that I had learned my lesson and would treat office chairs with the respect that they so clearly deserve. Sadly this is not the case, and they continue to exert an unholy fascination for me.

old friend

I spoke to someone today that I haven't spoken to in a long time. During my silence, she kept in touch, sent cards and has invited me to her wedding. She didn't even do anything, I just didn't know how to tell her about something that had happened. It just got worse and worse the longer I left it. I wrote cards and couldn't send them, I picked up the phone and couldn't talk. I managed to post a card on Monday and she phoned today. We spoke, and I am glad. I hope we can be friends again, if only to share our mutual fascination with, and loathing for Courtney Love, Wynona Ryder and Elizabeth Wurtzel. No one else gets it in the same way.

our house...

I am working at home today. I am supposed to be writing a report for court, but can't seem to get into it at all. I was looking through some old backup discs and I found this aerial photograph of the area in which we live. Our house is in there somewhere. I think I got it a couple of years ago from one of those mapping sites. Thought you might like to see it.

first man on the moon...

Kirsty got me thinking. I completed an age gauge too. The idea is that you enter your date of birth and a list of events that have happened over your life is displayed. I can't be bothered to go through the whole list but I do know that I was 8 years old at the time the first man stepped on the moon.

I have such a strong recollection of this momentous occasion. We were still living in Glasgow at the time and for some reason, that I can't remember, we were living with my alcoholic great aunt in her one bedroom flat. The flat was filled with people: there would have been my aunt, my mum and dad and, at that time, four children, living in the small flat. The flat was in well-maintained tenement blocks, which were a mixture of privately owned and rented flats. The thing I remember most about the block of flats was that it had a beautiful private walled garden. The wall was easily 10’ tall and I have wanted a walled garden of my own ever since. I was 8 years old and my head was full of the Apollo mission. All I could talk about was the idea that a man was going to land on the moon.

I knew that we wouldn't see this in the UK until around 3am. Somehow I managed to persuade my parents that I would go to bed early and then get up again to see it all happen. I assured them that I would have had enough sleep to be able to go to school the next day. I went to bed about 8pm, but I was so excited that it took me ages to fall asleep. I think I was also a little anxious that my parents were going to play a mean trick on me, and would just let me sleep through the night. Eventually, I fell asleep, and the next thing I knew it was about 2am and my dad was gently shaking me awake. Leaving my warm bed was a real effort, but I didn't want my mum and dad to think that I looked too tired and that I should go back to bed, so I pretended to be far more awake than I really felt. We settled down in front of our little black & white television with a cup of tea and some garibaldi biscuits to watch the astronauts step onto the moon.

I don't really remember much about the coverage around the event. It was all filler anyway; everyone wanted to see only one thing. What I do remember was the hairs standing on the back of my neck when Neil Armstrong stepped off the ladder. The landing craft just seemed so fragile. It was hard to believe that it had carried three people from Earth all the way to the moon, and later would bring them back safely. Even as young as I was, I knew that this was an important event. Not just for my own Star Trek fuelled fantasies about the future but because it seemed to signal something great about people. It didn't matter to me that the mission was American, what mattered was that human beings had walked on the moon.

stupid me

I was so incensed during a telephone call today that I actually fell off the chair onto the floor. Didn't let go of the phone though. I was sober, which hardly seems fair as Retrogirl had much more fun falling over this weekend, and I got bruises too. I also made a very scary, very hard man cry in a meeting. Today was a good day at work.

This is my first link in a post. I am Godlike in my abilities. Mr McMuffin is a spoilsport and tells me I have to give him credit for showing me how. How sad. He never acknowledges that I am the wind beneath his wings.

I had to edit this post, as I've just found out how to emphasise without capitals, by viewing the code on another blog. I am a genius. I'm sure this doesn't impress anyone else, but I feel great.

very talented...

Just found this guy as I wondered around the internet. He is very talented. The cartoons are great, and he makes some very good music. His site is called Toothpaste For Dinner.

50 first dates...

On Steve's recommendation, we went to see this film today, and I loved it. It was a little short of being a 'classic' big girl's blouse film because of the irritating side kick, although we needed him for one of the funniest scenes I have seen in a film for ages, and all the cutesy animals. However, a lovely film. Drew Barrymore is wonderful as usual, and I was struck by her amazing pert breasts during one particularly wet t-shirt scene, and Adam Sandler is very restrained. I really am a sucker for this kind of sweet romantic comedy. Mrs McMuffin is much harder than me, and she thought it was 'quite good', and all through the film she kept muttering under her breath, "you gonna git yours mutha f*cker." I am not sure what that was all about, and I am a little scared to ask.

in the white room...

It is all a bit scary. I am not sure I understand it, but all the whiteness in the room seems to have created a breach in the space/time continuum, and we have clear view of the Trevi Fountain from our window. I can't explain it, but it is rather nice.

the room of shame...

We are nearly finished the room of shame. Today we will give it the final touches of paint before we head off to IKEA to buy some furniture and to have lunch. We love lunching at IKEA! Swedish meatballs and chips are food from heaven. I may have got a little bit carried away with the room's colour scheme. The entire room, walls, ceiling, skirting boards, floor boards and door have all been painted in a slightly off white, which B&Q like to call Antique White. It is slightly disorientating standing in the room. Have I gone too far, I wonder. I have suggested to Mrs McMuffin that we tell people that we take our computing seriously and have decided to create a sterile environment for our Mac. The room will be complete when our white Mac is sitting on the white table that we got some time ago. Mrs McMuffin has been very easy going about it all. I wonder if she is just waiting for me to realise my mistake and suggest that we paint it a different colour. Well, if that's her game then she will have a long wait. I rather go out of my mind in the White Room than do any more painting. I might post a picture of it later. Although how the flash on our camera will react against the whiteness of the room is anyone's guess.

morality...

Mrs McMuffin has been on at me to do this morality survey for days nows. It takes about 10 or 15 minutes and I just couldn't be bothered. I finally bowed to the pressure last night, and it turns out that I am a pretty nice chap. Looks a lot more like a personality test than a survey of morality, but hey, who cares. I am not too sure about my leanings towards being disagreeable, I think this is supposed to mean that I argue a lot rather than I am mean, or at least I hope so.

look who we found...

Remember Wesley Crusher the honorary Ensign from Star Trek: The Next Generation? The young boy genius forever waiting for puberty to happen. Well, he has gone and grown up, and become a geeky blogger into the bargain. Seems like a very nice young man. We found his site a few months ago, before we started blogging ourselves, and then completely forgot about him. This is not an unusual occurrence for Wil Wheaton. He seems to have had two goes at being a big star. He was the lovely boy in Stand By Me, and then he had his big role in Star Trek. After each outing, he is quickly forgotten. He will be pleased to know, I am sure, that we haven't forgotten him, or, it has to be said, forgiven him, for some truly dreadful performances in Star Trek.

childhood memories...part 3

Inspired by Steve, Kirsty and Mr McMuffin, here is a childhood memory. We went to Wales every year to stay with our Mamgus (South Welsh Grandmothers) and we would usually combine this with a seaside holiday. I think that this pic is from a holiday on Amroth, where Gypsy Tart and I made friends with some girls from Peterborough. I thought that this was a very exotic location as I'd never heard of it. It impressed me more than if they had told me that they had travelled from Peru, as I knew where that was.

I think I had grown up enough not to smash all the periwinkles and barnacles that I saw. My parents thought I was going to become a serial killer until they realised that it was all in the name of science, I just wanted to see what lived inside those things. We got a lot of cliff climbing done on this holiday, and in the style of children of our generation everywhere tucked our dresses into our big, big, pants so that they didn't get caught on anything. We also wore fabulous home made bikinis, which we adored. Gypsy Tart and I always ended up wearing very similar clothes, and our matching bikinis illustrated this perfectly.

My Big Sis was always nice on these holidays which made a nice change from her usual wish to emotionally and physically abuse me. I couldn't help raining on her parade by being born. She was nicer to Gypsy Tart as she'd decided at that point that my parents might keep reproducing even if she managed to kill me off. She is a good sister to me now, which surprises me given our early history.

how does he find the time?

I am a little awed by Mr McMuffin's ability to multitask. He seems to have spent all day in front of the Mac by the amount of posting and commenting he has done, yet I know he's also cleaned the house-and not done a bad job.

I have been spending more time in the room of shame. Another coat of paint on the radiator and the floor is all thet's needed. It's a relief as I don't think we've ever taken so long to get anything done. I have also mown the grass and dug up about thirty more dandelions.

I have a theory that should some disaster befall the planet, dandelions AND cockroaches will survive. I'm not sure that I would want to, but for those determined to live, it's nice that you can have some greens with your roasted roaches.

Dandelions really piss me off. Two years ago I dug up the 'lawn' and removed every trace of nettle, couch grass and dandelion before seeding the whole thing. Now they're everywhere. Gardening for me is a bit like cleaning in that I have the ability to live with nastiness, but once I start to sort it out find it hard to stop. I had to come in today before I dug the grass up again and started over.

I had a bit of a shock at work yesterday, when I found that I had loads of annual leave to carry forward, and I get an extra three days too. That's without all the time off in lieu I have accrued. I may become a lady of leisure, and the house of shame may begin to realise it's potential.

childhood memories...part 2

Another nice memory. In fact, this is my earliest memory. I have a memory of being thrown in the air by my father when I was a baby. I don't think I could have been much more than about 18 months old. In the picture I have in my head, my dad lay on the bed naked throwing me into the air. My mum was standing at the sink. I was laughing and laughing.

childhood memories...part 1

When I was a child we often had porridge for breakfast. Being Scottish, we were obliged to eat porridge, but I don't think I have eaten it since I left home 20 odd years ago. However, one of my fondest memories of being a child involved eating porridge. My father, for some reason, was a great admirer of Ho Chi Minh. I am still a little unclear about what it was he admired, but certainly Ho's capacity to endure the long march was one of the reasons. We would be served bowls of steaming porridge. It was torture waiting for it to cool down. My father devised a cunning plan, he would encourage us to chant "Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh" over our porridge. I can still remember the six of us chanting over our bowls of hot porridge. I can't imagine what the neighbours must have made of it all.

[I have had to edit this post because Mrs McMuffin, the Grammar God, made me correct my grammar]

so sorry

We live in the sunny south. It's warm here, haha.

aliens abroad...

Found this great site for all things alien. These people really believe that they have been abducted by aliens, and they have a survey to prove it. This is a great photo though, one of those iconic images from my childhood. As a child I was convinced that aliens visited the earth, and my father was into the Erich Von Daniken books. We used to debate for hours whether the Aztec and Incas where the product of some kind of alien intervention. Ah, those were the days...

very excited...

I am in the middle of giving the room of shame another coat of paint, but thought I would tell you about a musical find. I'm sure I am probably the last person to have heard of Everlast. This is the best hip hop/rock fusion that I have heard. Even the rapping stuff sounds good. Coming from white rock boy that is high praise indeed.

Just found out that he used to be the front man for House of Pain, but I will not hold that against him.

feelings...

Some more cartoons. This is a series I did around the idea of Feelings, long before I ever decided to become a Psychotherapist. The last cartoon is from a series I did on Social Work. Flexability is a dirty word in our house. In Social Work, it usually means a willingness to do anything and have anything done to you. Boundaries and values go out of the window in the name of flexability. Again, I have used car spray paints and stencils. It is really hard to get decent scans of the original fade of the spray, or even the colours for that matter. Click on them for the bigger picture.

i am not a doctor

I can't find anything to assist the poor Profiteroles. NHS direct didn't give me anything, or a search on headaches and confusion. However I can confirm that my doctor successfully diagnosed migraine in me (common, although I've had one classic attack, for any snobs reading this) and I can be treated for menstrual migraine.

Why didn't my GP tell me all those years ago? I wouldn't have had to suffer the half skull hell with vomiting and intolerance of light and sound that have plagued me for more years than I care to recount. Is is because it's just a 'woman's thing?' and a little bit suspect as you can't actually see it? Well actually you can see it, when I vomit over whatever gets in my way. I astounded a coworker one night when I was too sick to drive home and he kindly gave me a lift, by vomiting all over his car door. I have also vomited into a lunchbox on a train and a plastic paper wallet on the tube. I think my white sweaty face, inability to stand or hold a conversation and passing out rather give the game away too.

Well I'll just have to call myself 'Me-Me' McMuffin again, and remind myself that this started as concern for friends, not a rant against the male dominated medical model.

Thanks for your comments about Mr McMuffin's thoughts about blogging and trackbacks. I'm sure he'll make good use of your explanations. I have tried to understand them, but I felt a bit like the girl in the L'Oreal ad when the science goes whooshing right over her head. I know this stuff can't be hard, but I can't really work up an interest. It's a bit like when I had a motorbike. I loved riding it, but really couldn't bear getting grease on my hands, or fixing it. Obviously I did when I couldn't persuade my then boyfriend to do so, but I hated every second. I think there are some parallels here!

The sad thing is I really wanted to be one of the many women who can strip and rebuild an engine in an afternoon (took me weeks, and I was closely supervised) and be a computer expert. I just have to accept that interest and learning makes competence, and I have neither.

to know know know him...

...is to fight with him over the Mac. Perhaps we need to consider getting another machine, but I don't want to spend lots of money on it, and I know he wants a Powerbook because he emailed Mr McMuffin Junior's best friend to tell him so. Well the friend just wanted to know when our birthdays were, but Mr McMuffin seized the opportunity to get his request in at the same time. Considering that he got the ipod for his Christmas and every birthday since present, I'm not sure how to rationalise such an expense. Is it a necessity? Will it stop the competition for the seat in front of the Mac? I'm now worried that the room of shame is being decorated so that he can hide it away and claim that he is working on his dissertation.

On an entirely different subject, we spoke to the Profiteroles tonight and they seem to have some strange symtoms which consist of headaches and confusion. Mr Profiterole considered stress related illness, early onset dementia and brain tumours etc until Mrs Profiterole came down with the same symptoms a day later, and she's not that suggestible or sympathetic. They haven't been able to see the GP yet, and apart form these symptoms and being unable to do more than one task at one time (driving AND talking are out)
have no idea what it could be. Other than this, they feel healthy. They've even tested the house for carbon monoxide as a precaution. These are not mad people or hypochondriacs. I've never heard of such a thing, but am a bit worried so am going to google a bit.

childhood memories...

Steve has got me thinking. I too had some idea when we started this blog that we too would use the opportunity to talk about our experiences growing up, but the day to day stuff and all the trivia seems to take over. In many ways that is so much more fun. I suppose it is easier to write about cheesy bugs gone bad than what it was like for us as growing up. I guess there is also something in there about the exposure that we would get on internet. When we began to get involved in all this blogging stuff I suppose I had some idea that we would remain anonymous and that this would allow me to say practically anything that I liked. However, the more we blog the more we seem to develop 'virtual friendships' with lots of people who come from all over the world, and while it is unlikely that we will ever meet any of these people, although I now wouldn't rule out that possibility at some point in the future, the usual stuff seems to take over. I have a particular way of being in the world, and rarely do I talk to people about the things that are important to me. I am trying to say that the opinion of these people, and, yes, you are one of these people, hold of me, means a lot to me. At one level this all seems a bit sad...Much as Mrs McMuffin just wants to be pretty, I just want people to like me, which makes it kind of difficult to stray from the superficial.

trackback...wots that then?

A little question for all you seasoned Typepad bloggers. What does trackback do? I can't see much difference between it and the permalink. This has bothered me for a while, but I thought I would eventually work it out. I have to admit it has me beat.

a cartoon...

I thought that it was about time I showed you some of my cartoons. I used to do a lot of these when I had fantasies of becoming a freelance illustrator. I did this one a while ago as part of a series playing around with the idea of collective nouns. For those who are interested I used ordinary car spray paints and stencils. Unfortunately, this technique does not scan easily. Let me know what you think?

i skive

Haha I am being bad. Mr McMuffin is painting the room of shame while I 'tidy up a bit'. He's also made some cute pictures of us, and seems to be a bit obsessed with putting images of us around the blog. Perhaps he's hoping it will prevent the blogdemon from returning. I like my 'cats arse' mouthbut am a bit shocked that Mr McMuffin sees me this way, surely I smile a bit more at him. He actually does look that dour in a kind of Oliver Platt/Robert the Bruce (from Braveheart) way.

Anyway, enough of the superficial...Sorry about that, lost my way for a while, of course there can never be enough of the superficial. Anyway, must go back to work, or at least wipe a few sides down.

our own 'you'

We took up Steve's challenge, and this is our very own 'you'. I must say they bear an uncanny resemblance to us.

when cheesy bugs go bad

Just had to show you this lovely picture of a cousin of the cheesy bugs. Robert Gayle from A Welsh View sent it to Mrs McMuffin, who is a gibbering wreck in the corner of the room. I'm not sure she is going to be able to go to work today.

such a boy...

Apologies for being such a boy, but I couldn't help myself. Steve and TEFL Smiler have put up screen shots of their desktops so I just had to do the same. I am sure Steve will have a laugh at the irony of my wallpaper, but it really is the nicest one that I have found so far. It is very calming. David, notice the lovely clear background to the dock. I think that's enough boy stuff for now.

oh, my god!

I tried the Death Clock thing. Imagine my surprise to find that I had been dead for some weeks. I must admit that this might help to explain the slight lethargy that I have been feeling recently. It seems a shame that I have finally found a way to make myself very, very rich, only to discover that I am dead. Mrs McMuffin was a little surprised too, although not as surprised as I had expected.

hurrah I bloody hope

Please let this be the end of Mr McMuffin's obsession. I know he's been doing stuff over the last few days, but it does seem as if he's in front of the blog, fiddling with it every time I look. He has been insufferable and continues to be. As I type he is droning on about a small child he saw today with a false eye, while that is interesting in itself, will the man not leave me alone with the machine? I'm not the one who allowed evil spirits into it, so I don't need to be guarded. Oh God! he's now talking about Powerbooks, will he not stop? I am reaching for the blunt instrument right now. He's now told me that I bore him and has wandered off. Rejoice!

I like a lot about this blog, but I still don't like the photos. I can't bear the one of my face which has been so blurred that my nostril looks as if potholers should investigate. Call me vain, I don't care. I think that if even a small bit of me is shown to the world, it should be a good bit, and that isn't. Having said that I have no idea what I consider my good bits to be. Possibly my legs, or ears. I know, my hands. I have very beautiful hands. No one notices them (which is as it should be or they would get jealous and chop them off) but they are lovely. Nails aren't great though, can't be bothered.

See what's happened? I have become completely insecure about my looks. Please don't do this to yourselves, it is agony. I do admire people who put photos of themselves up (usually boys) for their 'take me or leave me' approach, but I have been successfully programmed with female insecurity. Despite my parents' best efforts and feminism, I just want to look pretty.

hurrah!

I am at work looking at our site through the lens of IE5.5 and it looks great. I see a glorious three column site with everything in the right place. I am overjoyed. Ooer, I am coming over all funny. I think I need to lie down in a darkened room for a little bit. I will celebrate at lunch time by having peanut butter sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Must get back to work before I am spotted slacking.

the exorcist performed by bunnies

I know it is a bit late for the Easter bunny, but this is special. The Exorcist performed in 30 seconds by bunnies. I can't remember where I got it from.

is that it?

I think I may have a working blog again. I realised that if I mess too much with stuff I don't understand then all sorts of bad things happen. Really I think I learnt this lesson a long time ago, which why I no longer try to perform open heart surgery on my little brother. When I was a kid, so my parents tell me, they were scared to leave me alone for more than a few minutes with any electrical goods because I would take them apart to see how they worked. Apparently, we got through four radios and two TVs in the space of a couple of years. I just remember being interested in how things worked. The old TVs were just too tempting. All those rows of glowing tubes like straight out of an episode of Star Trek. How could anyone resist that? I am amazed that I didn't kill myself, although I do remember getting the odd electrical shock. But I always reckoned that the occasional heart-stopping moment was a price worth paying for the advancement of human knowledge.

Things haven't changed much. It's just that my toys have got more sophisticated. I don't think I mentioned my mishap with the electric screwdriver. The screwdriver had a little wire clip on the top of the handle, and during a moment of madness I decided to take the clip off to see what it was holding in place. Without any warning, as soon as I removed the clip, the whole thing fell apart in my hands. Scattered across the floor was hundreds of bits, little springs and cogs and other things that were a complete mystery to me. I took one look and realised that I could never put it back together again. I scooped up the lot and threw it in the bin. Eventually, I had to admit to Mrs McMuffin what I had done. I begged her forgiveness and promised never to do it again. In future, I swore, I would leave alone all things I don't understand. I would not tinker. Unfortunately, as I am a bit dog like in some respects, I quickly forgot all about my adventure with the screwdriver, and I never did let my many other failures trouble me, which I guess is how we have come to this sorry state. Those lovely people at Typepad have devised the perfect blogging software, and I just had to tinker. Although, it must be said, I hold them partially responsible for the mess I am in. Surely, they should have taken up references or something before allowing me to have access to all that customising potential?