home alone

The Boy is entering his 3rd day of being home alone, since he’s lucky enough to have leave this week while I have to work.

So far, as you’d expect, his days have been filled with computer games, net surfing and updating his website. He says he misses me, and that being home without me isn’t the same. However, I don’t think he’s actually missing my company, as such – I think he probably just misses having coffee and food provided for him, and being generally looked after.

101 posts & still standing

Yup, that’s right – this is my 101st blog posting. Not bad going for someone who only started blogging to shut her partner up. I bet he never thought I’d make it this far (see Boy – proved you wrong!).

I think I can officially say I’m no longer “the virgin blogger” – just plain pj in the city.

i might be winning…

I hate to tempt fate by saying so, but I think I might be starting to win the ‘battle of the ants’.

I made bacon for breakfast on Christmas Day, since it’s The Boy’s favourite. The greasy paper towels I’d put the cooked bacon on, and the empty bacon packet, were in the kitchen rubbish bin. I’d intended to change the bag before we left the house to spend the rest of xmas day and night at mum & dad’s, but stupidly forgot. When we got back home, more than 24 hours later, there wasn’t a single ant anywhere near the bin.

I also discovered this morning that The Boy had left an open container of brownies in the lounge when he came to bed last night. Again, not one single ant.

Considering that when we moved in doing something dumb like either of the above would have meant we had an ant swarm within half an hour, this is serious progress.

So there you go. The Boy can mock my attempts at ant-genocide (as he likes to call it) as much as he likes – at least it seems to be working. Touch wood.

go santa!

I have to say Santa was very good to me this year – all his ‘helpers’ delivered great gifts that I’ll get a lot of use and enjoyment out of.

I was particularly impressed by The Boy’s delivery. As any regular reader of the blog (if there are any!) would know, The Boy hates shopping with a passion. I’m sure he’d rather spend 8 hours at the dentist than one hour shopping. In fact, I think the only thing he hates more than shopping is salsa dancing.

But, despite this loathing, he did venture out and found me a gorgeous Christmas present (which I absolutely love). And knowing the time and research he put into it makes it an even more impressive gift.

Thank you bebezinho – you did an amazing job.

Some people are never satisfied, are they?

Last year, our first xmas living together, The Boy was less than impressed by the little star I had on top of the xmas tree. Admittedly, it wasn’t the most salubrious decoration, but I didn’t think it was that bad.

Anyway, I’d had in mind that maybe I’d be good and get something a little nicer this year. So when I was at a sale at the Christmas Heirloom Company’s factory shop a few weeks ago, I had a look at a few options.

Not being religious, I’ve never had an angel on my tree, so I was looking at stars. Then I started thinking that since The Boy is catholic, I should really ask his preference. I sent him pixts of the angel and the star they had and told him the choice between the two was 100% his, or if he didn’t like either then I could look somewhere else. He chose the angel.

So, that was fine – I brought the angel home, and he was happy. For all of 2 minutes.

Since then, he has been bad-mouthing the poor angel to everyone who comes round, saying it’s the gayest angel he has ever seen, and how bad it looks on the tree. Despite the fact that he chose it.

So there you go – next time I won’t give a toss about which he would prefer. If he’s going to whinge about it anyway, I may as well just get the one I like, right?

4 more sleeps…

I do envy people in jobs that let them slack off a bit in the week before Christmas, so they can start getting into the holiday spirit (or even take that time off). Unfortunately for me, my work is always absolutely frantically busy in the lead up to the festive season.

Still, it could be worse – I could be a courier driver. Not only are they flat out at this time of year, but they have to brave the madness on the roads. Mind you – considering they’re big contributors to that madness, maybe its just karma.

my new crusade…

I’ve been on a bit of a mission since we moved, and that mission is to eliminate all ants setting foot on our place. It’s a bit of a losing battle, considering the whole area is rife with them (with a thin layer of soil over volcanic rock, the conditions are ant-heaven). Still, I’m out there daily, refilling the ant-bait stations and fly-spraying anything that moves.

The latest discovery was a load of ants actually in my car. I must have used a good half can of fly-spray on them – we’re now in danger of suffocating on fumes if we drive with the windows closed, but at least there aren’t any crawly things in my poor wee car.

The Boy thinks its hilarious watching me race around with the ant bait and fly spray in my vendetta against all creepy-crawlies, but so long as I can at least keep them out of our house (and my car!) then I’ll be happy.

showing some christmas love

Partners of friends can be difficult to buy for, don’t you think? They’re often not people you have all that much contact with, even when the relationship is long term. Besides, when you’re on a bit of a budget, you don’t necessarily want to have to spend a lot of money on “partner presents”.

My solution to that for the last several years has been home baking. I make chocolate brownies and/or biscuits and buy some nice plates to put them on. Wrapped up in cellophane and tied with curling ribbon, it looks good and doesn’t cost the earth, but is still something that shows a bit of effort.

Since we had a Christmas gathering on Sunday, I spent a good part of Saturday evening and Sunday morning doing the baking (see how exciting my life is in the suburbs?!). This year it was a couple of batches of brownies and loads of cranberry & white choc chip butter cookies.

It occurred to The Boy & I that, since we had all this Christmas baking, it would be nice to do the neighbourly thing and give some to the people on either side of us. We still aren’t really used to this whole “chat to the neighbours” thing, but we’ve been trying to improve. Anyway, they seemed to appreciate it, so I guess we’re learning.

Actually, I suppose neighbours and friends’ partners are similar in a way. In both cases, you don’t necessarily have a lot in common with them or see them very often, and sometimes you don’t even like them that much, but it’s wise to maintain civil relations with them.

how do they do it?

Children really are amazing creatures. How can beings so small and so cute be capable of creating such bedlam, such ear-splitting noises and leaving such a trail of destruction?

I had the annual Xmas get-together with a few old school friends yesterday, which it was my turn to host. The party included 4 young whipper-snappers ranging from 1 to 6 years old. Two of them had just come from a birthday party, so they were already sugar-shocked before they even arrived.

Don’t get me wrong – I love the kids and always enjoy seeing them, but they could definitely teach Genghis Khan and his ravaging hordes a lesson or two. My utmost respect, and somewhat bewildered admiration, has to go to all the parents out there who deal with these little critters 24/7. I’m always completely exhausted after a few hours!

a cure, but only temporary

We discovered one cure for computeritis/internetitis last week – just blow up the power converter. Unfortunately it was only a temporary cure, because The Boy got a new one on Wednesday. Oh well – at least I got a few days with him off the computer and spending more time with me, even if he did spend most of that time whinging about not having his computer…

how many more sleeps?!

How the hell did it get to be only 11 more sleeps until Christmas??? Am I the only person in the world who hasn’t got the xmas spirit yet? Or, more to the point, the only person in the world who hasn’t made even a small dent in their xmas shopping?

Best I get my butt in gear on that, I suppose. Avoiding the malls whenever humanly possible, though – I like to think I’m a reasonably easy-going person, but the crowds in malls at this time of year do bring out the worst in me. Mind you, I never give anyone a discreet elbow-jab or heel-spike unless they really, really deserve it… honest…

movember

Well, “Movember” is drawing to a close. I don’t think anyone is NZ can possibly be unaware of what Movember is by now, but if so then check out http://www.movember.com/nz. It’s great to see prostate cancer getting a higher profile. After all, breast cancer and skin cancer both get a ton of press time, but an awful lot of people aren’t even aware of what prostate cancer is.

All the worthiness aside, though, one thing this past month has proved is that the mighty mo really isn’t a look for everyone. Honestly, have you ever seen such a sad lot of wanna-be-Magnum-PI’s?? The thing that has amazed me most is the number of guys who, after a month of trying, still only have the smallest wee bum-fluff mo.

One colleague of The Boy’s (who shall remain nameless) came to work one day with a mo that looked suspiciously darker and fuller than it had the day before. On closer inspection, they discovered that he had tired of being teased about only having weeny peach fuzz, and had used mascara to beef it up a bit…

Anyway – well done to all the guys who participated. Quite aside from raising money and awareness, you’ve also provided no small amount of amusement to the rest of us!

neighbours

Neighbours are funny things, aren’t they? I’m not really used to having neighbours that you do more than nod hello to as you pass on the street – I haven’t really been “buddies” with neighbours since I was a child. In fact, the last neighbours I had were an old pair of alcoholics, who must have single-handedly kept the local liquor store in business. They liked to have nasty arguments at the top of their lungs, smoked like chimneys (which doesn’t seem to have weakened their lungs any, given the volumes they could achieve) and regularly set off the smoke alarms with their cooking.

So you can see how I’d find it a little odd getting used to neighbours who not only seem quite normal, but who are actually friendly. To give you an idea, they brought us a cake when we moved in. Seriously! A very yummy strawberry cheesecake, in fact. And knocked on the door last night to invite us over for a quiet beer.

They seem like a lovely couple, though – about our age with a young baby. And, funnily enough, it turns out we know some of the same people – never mind 6 degrees of separation, New Zealand is more like two or three.

So there you go – a new experience for pj-now-in-the-suburbs: friendly neighbours.

relapse

The Boy has had a bit of a computeritis and internetitis relapse in the last few weeks. Just when he’d been getting a little better, too.

It started when we were out appliance shopping, of all things. The store we were in had a massive game section, which I didn’t realise. I foolishly suggested he occupy himself with something else while I looked at washers and dryers, since he has the attention span of a two year old about such things. Anyway, he found the game section…

After I’d sorted the appliances and organised delivery, it was time to leave. He wanted to buy a computer game first. These things aren’t cheap, and we’d just spent a fortune on whiteware, so I wasn’t really keen for him to do that. The resemblance to a two year old reared it’s head again and, one big tantrum later, we left the store with Civilisation IV (kind of an ironic choice, considering the behaviour).

He was just starting to surface from spending 95% of his at-home-and-awake time playing that (the other 5% being spent eating) when his new broadband connection finally came through. Yup, he’s been almost impossible to drag away from the internet ever since.

I know that it’ll taper off eventually (until the next big thing comes along, anyway), and I know I should be happy that he is happy, but I’m afraid I really just find it annoying.

Has a cure for computeritis or internetitis been discovered since I last asked? If so, please let me know!

invasion…

Not to sound like a girly wuss or anything, but one thing I am finding hard to adjust to again is insects.

We had a bit of an ant invasion over the weekend – the local ant colony apparently decided it didn’t like the stormy weather outside and decided to come on in. Fortunately they didn’t find the pantry (touch wood), but they did find the rubbish bin and spread themselves far and wide through the kitchen and dining areas, with a few hardy front-runners making a foray into the living room.

A can of Raid and a quick trip to buy ant bait later, we seem to have it pretty much under control. It’s just another one of the “features” (as opposed to the benefits…) of living in a villa, I guess, but I’ve always been a bit of a girl when it comes to creepy-crawlies.


ps – happy birthday dad!

suburbia…

Yes, we’re well and truly moved – PJ is now officially a suburbanite. I do still get my daily dose of the city at work, though, so I haven’t gone entirely over to the dark side.

We’ve been there 3 weeks tomorrow. It seems both longer and shorter than that, which I know doesn’t really make sense. Still, I never claimed to make sense.

In the three weeks, we’ve had multiple barbeques, unpacked the majority of the boxes, bought a few sets of drawers and abandoned the idea of taking the bus to work. We’ve also bought a washing machine & dryer, which seems like a very grown-up thing to do (my mum was a bit horrified when I said that – I think she thinks that someone my age shouldn’t find appliance ownership scary).

One thing I’ve realised is that I’ve been well and truly spoiled over the last few years by the excellent insulation that modern apartments have – I’d forgotten how cold villas can be. We’re definitely going to have to invest in an amazing heater (or three) before winter.

apartment or tardis??

We’re well into the packing now, and the place is looking absolutely horrendous. We have boxes everywhere, rubbish everywhere and very little room to move. It isn’t exactly the most pleasant environment right now.

I have to say, though, I’m astounded at how much stuff we have. I knew things were jammed pretty tight into that little shoebox-sized apartment, but it just keeps on coming. We have boxes stacked to the ceiling along the wall, and we’re not even done yet! I’m starting to suspect our apartment is actually a tardis…

too sexy?

I don’t know if I’d go quite so far as to agree with the whole men are from mars, women are from venus thing, but there is no denying we have our differences. And one of the big ones is self-image.

Its something everybody knows, but it really struck me this morning that the average male self-image and the average female self-image are absolutely miles apart. What brought it to mind this morning in particular? Watching The Boy, fresh out of bed, unshaven and wild-haired, singing I’m Too Sexy into the bathroom mirror… Ok, it was a little tongue in cheek, but how many women do you know who would do that, especially when they’d just got out of bed??

rent to own, my butt…

One thing we’re going to have to do with this new place is buy whiteware, which I’ve never needed before. Everywhere else I’ve lived has already had all the whiteware – either belonging to an existing flattie or as part of the package. The new place has a stove and dishwasher, but no fridge, washing machine or dryer. So we can cook but not store fresh food and we can wash our dishes but not our clothes… not exactly ideal!

So, we’re going to have to sally forth and learn about the wonderful world of home appliances. One thing we’ve learned already, through the wonders of the internet, is that DTR is a rip-off. Rent to own, my butt. When you multiply their “low weekly payments” by the number of weeks you have to pay, it works out at least double what you’d pay if you just bought the things from a normal appliance shop. You see “2 years interest free” specials all the time, so it isn’t like you have to have all the cash up front, so why on earth would you do DTR??

A trap for young players, that’s all it is.

pj in the suburbs?

Yes, its true – we’re moving to the suburbs… The big move is happening over Labour Weekend.

We’ve finally had enough of living in a city apartment the size of a shoebox, and are ready for a bit of greenery and a real kitchen. Maybe once we have a kitchen bigger than a ship’s galley, it’ll be easier to get The Boy to cook a bit more often. We’ll definitely be having a few bbq’s in the summer, which should keep my Brazilian Gaucho happy.

So, now we have the super-fun task of packing and planning what needs to come out of storage. Plus what needs to go into storage and what just needs to get chucked. I really hate packing and moving. You’d think it wouldn’t be so hard, considering the size of our current place, but its amazing how much crap we have jammed in there. The Boy is a bit of a hoarder…

I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to go with the whole taking the bus to work thing. That will definitely be a shock to the system. I’ll give it a go, anyway, and see what happens.

welcome to daylight savings…

What a crap start to Daylight Savings this year is having. Despite having great weather for most of September, the first two and a half days of daylight savings have seen some of the worst thunder storms Auckland has had for ages. I know its all about Murphy’s Law, but someone should have strangled that bugger at birth. If this is a sign of the summer to come, lets all move to the Gold Coast now.

By the way – if anyone is wondering how The Boy’s vegetarianism is going… he hasn’t had a meat-less day yet!

it really isn’t that bad…

Why is it that men are so phobic about shopping? It really isn’t that bad. In fact, it can even be fun.

The Boy’s work shoes reached the end of their life last week, and needed to be replaced. I’d heard about a shop that had an amazing sale on men’s shoes, so I suggested that we go.

His counter-suggestion was that, since I was going shopping with mum on the weekend anyway, I should just choose for him.

Now, we’re not talking about a new toothbrush here. We’re also not talking about something that he could do without. We’re talking about shoes that he has to wear most days of the week, including walking home from work, and be comfortable in. So don’t you think he should come and try them on? Well, apparently not.

His theory was that I’d chosen shoes for him before and they’d been fine, so why did he need to go? I did point out that they were running shoes, which are pretty much always comfortable, and that I’d been overseas so having him try them on was impossible, but that didn’t even put a dent in his determination not to go shopping.

In the end I gave up and included his shoes in my shopping trip with mum. After checking that we could exchange them if they didn’t fit, I did choose shoes for him. Luckily for him, they fit and are (he says) comfortable. I guess that means my chances of getting him to come shopping next time are now even slimmer…

a grain of salt

I’ve learned by now that I have to take some of the things The Boy says with a grain of salt.

His latest ‘yeah right’ statement came yesterday, when he declared that he was going to become a vegetarian and drink nothing but green tea and water.

Much as I love my Boy, we both know that will never happen. In fact, I’m starting to think he says some of these things just to watch my reaction or to make me laugh. And I’m sure my reaction to the thought of my south-Brazilian carnivore giving up meat would have been everything he hoped for.

Anyway, that’s gone by the board already. He had meat in his dinner last night and, although he had a cup of green tea before leaving for work, he only lasted until about 10 am before he had a coffee.

Oh well, I guess I wouldn’t recognise him if he wasn’t bouncing off the walls anyway…

ick…

I’ve been doing a bit of overtime at work in the last few weeks, and The Boy has had to take on more of the cooking than usual. Last night I knew I’d be late, so I told The Boy I’d just grab some noodles at work and not to worry about cooking for me.

As it turned out, I got home a bit earlier than I thought – just in time to watch him prepare the most disgusting concoction I’ve seen in a long time.

This was: 1 can of tuna (large), about half a jar of mayo and a good tablespoon of garlic. He then proceeded to slather it about an inch thick onto bread to make a huge stack of sandwiches. Just the smell of it was almost enough to drive me out of the house. It was certainly enough to drive me out of the kitchen. I don’t like canned tuna at the best of times, but that was just gross.

Certainly not his finest moment in the kitchen.

new people

Isn’t it interesting the little dance you go through when getting to know new people and making new friends?

The Boy and I had dinner with a couple and two of their friends on Saturday night. One of the couple is an old friend of The Boy’s, but he doesn’t know the partner all that well. I’ve only met the couple once or twice previously, quite briefly, and neither of us had met the others.

Dinner was prepared by the couple, and they did a lovely job. I was noticing, as the evening progressed, how everyone was sort of feeling their way with each other. Conversation covered a number of different topics, and it was funny watching which ones were abandoned quickly as it became clear that one or more people really weren’t into it (or when the conversation came to a crashing halt). Everyone was searching for that point where it all becomes easy and relaxed, and trying to enjoy the journey to that place.

It’s something we do almost every day, but its still interesting to take a step back and watch the process now and then.

go madrid!

Apparently the organisers of Madrid’s fashion week have placed a ban on overly-skinny models. This year they’ve set a minimum BMI (body mass index), and will have medics on hand to check the models. So far, this has ruled out about 30% of the models used in the last event. The organisers say they “want to promote an image of beauty and health”.

The mayor of Milan has said she will seek a similar ban for Milan fashion week, but I don’t like her chances there.

Good on you, Madrid – being able to count the ribs and vertebrae as a model struts the catwalk is beyond disturbing. Well done.

alcohol advisory

Anyone who lives in Auckland is pretty much guaranteed to have heard of Brucie’s. It’s a takeaway grease-pit right opposite Sky City, and has been around for a million years.

My question is this: if you wouldn’t eat there on a dare when sober, why do people flock to it when drunk?

It seems to be mostly a male thing, but Brucie’s (in the early hours of the morning) is always full of drunken partygoers in search of some late night grease. I’ve always managed to avoid going into the place myself – until last weekend, that is. And it’s all The Boy’s fault.

I ended up there at about 5.30 am Sunday morning, with The Boy, at the tail end of a night on the town together. He ordered our food, and I made the mistake of actually watching the “chef” while we were standing waiting for it. Good lord, it was an education and a half. I did point out to The Boy that I wasn’t sure I was drunk enough to actually eat what he was preparing. I definitely had to look away. Mind you, the sight of the other patrons really wasn’t any more appetising.

If anyone needed confirmation that alcohol consumption causes lapses in judgement, all they need to do is go into Brucie’s in the early hours of the morning.

the sad decline of captain kirk

Apparently, Richard Branson has offered William Shatner (aka Captain Kirk) a free ticket, yes I said a free ticket, on one of the first Virgin Galactic flights. However, the not-so-bold captain has declined. The UK’s Sun newspaper has supposedly quoted him as saying “I’m interested in man’s march into the unknown, but to vomit in space is not my idea of a good time.”

So much for your mission being “to boldly go where no man has gone before”, captain. Despite the fact that I’m definitely not a trekkie, I’m willing to bet that Gene Roddenberry is rolling in his grave.

happy father’s day

It was Father’s Day yesterday, so The Boy and I spent the day with my family.

Part of the day involved a bit of a reversion to childhood, with a family expedition to play mini-golf. Unfortunately, we didn’t manage to finish the round in quite the right Father’s Day spirit, as poor dad ended up last. Mind you, I was only 2 ahead of him, so it was pretty close. The Boy was the overall winner, which (as you can imagine) put him in a very good mood for the rest of the day.

So, Happy Father’s Day, dad – sorry about the score!

not enough sleep…

I should know by now that if I’m laying down ground-rules for something I need to be very, very specific.

Last Saturday was The Boy’s birthday, and I told him that he wasn’t allowed his presents at 12.01 am because it wasn’t his birthday until he’d been to sleep. What I failed to specify is that he had to sleep until at least 6 am…

At 4.30 am he decided he was wide awake and wanted his presents. It quickly became clear that I wasn’t going to get any peace, or any more sleep, unless I gave in. I did briefly consider smacking him, since that’s what happens to naughty boys, but I suppose that sort of behaviour is frowned upon when it’s the person’s birthday (unless you have certain highly specialised interests, which neither of us are fans of).

So, there we were at 4.30 am, opening presents. The Boy managed to get over his disappointment at not getting a full Darth Vader suit, helmet and real light sabre, and was pretty happy with the PSP. At least it kept him quiet for a while so I could get a little more sleep…

one more sleep…

Only one more sleep until The Boy is officially one year older.

Which means one more sleep until he stops going on about me being an old woman (at least for another 6 months). Yes, I’m 6 months older than him, which he likes to tease me about. To hear him talk, you’d think I was 60 years older. Older and wiser, I like to say.

I think he’ll like his presents – if not I’ll just have to keep them for myself… He always has amazingly high expectations (considering we haven’t won lotto yet), so we’ll just have to see. I think I’ve chosen pretty well, but he'll be disappointed not to get the working Light Sabre he wanted (sorry, Boy).

truly a little Boy at heart

It’s The Boy’s birthday on Saturday, and he is currently swinging between being very excited about presents and not so excited about turning another year older.

He is sure he knows what I’m getting him. Mind you, that’s what he thought last year too, and he turned out to be dead wrong.

I drive him crazy because I believe presents should be a surprise, and won’t confirm or deny anything. I don’t play the yes/no game, because then people eventually guess – I just stick very firmly to my ‘no comment’.

One suggestion, Boy – this could be a good time to be on your best behaviour…

pj who?

Despite The Boy’s protests of innocence, I think it is safe to say that he gets completely and utterly hypnotised by his computer.

Yesterday he asked me nicely if I’d make him a cup of coffee, which I did. We’re talking a proper flat white made with an espresso machine, so it isn’t a quick or quiet process. I made the coffee, leaned across in front of him to put it down on his computer table then left the room. All with absolutely no response from him.

About twenty minutes later he came into the bedroom, where I was lying reading a book. When I said to him “oh, so you’ve finally decided to say thank you for the coffee, have you?” his response was “what coffee?” Despite the fact that I’d made it less than 3 metres away from him, at his request and in a less that quiet process, then had to lean across in front of him to put it down, he hadn’t noticed. Seriously.

So, Boy, you win the Computer-Struck award this week, with a special mention in the What Girlfriend? category. A dubious honour at best.

yes, he paid…

I’ve had a couple of people ask whether The Boy paid up last Saturday night and took me out for the nice romantic evening that was promised (as per the 7 August posting).

The answer is yes – he took me out for a lovely dinner in Herne Bay. Well done Boy – it was a beautiful night. And it only cost you about 5 times as much as if you'd come out the previous Saturday like you were supposed to...

a new money spinner?

The Boy is doing extra-mural studies at the moment, and was working on an essay last night. He asked me to proof read it for him, which I did. I usually proof read his website stuff, so I’m quite used to it and didn’t really think anything of it. His English is generally very good, but he does have a few grammar and spelling quirks that need fixing. Plus, when he is studying he tends to think in Portuguese, so his sentence structures can sometimes be kind of odd.

Sadly for him, he let slip that when he used to have to pay someone to do the same job, through the university, they charged up to $100 per essay… hmmm… sounds to me like I could have a new source of income sitting at the computer desk… I don’t think I could make myself charge him cash, but you’d better believe I’ll be milking it in other ways!

what is the fascination?

Can someone explain to me why men have such a fascination with kung fu movies? I think its definitely a guy thing – I don’t know too many women who are really into them. The acting is always terrible and the action totally unbelievable. In fact, the only kung fu movie I’ve ever seen that I thought was ok was Kung Fu Hustle, and that was because it was taking the mickey out of itself.

Mind you, I’ve certainly never claimed to understand the male thought process, so I guess this is just one more inexplicable example.

pay now or pay lots more later

The Boy & I were supposed to go to a 30th birthday party on Saturday night, for a colleague of mine who is currently on maternity leave. After I’d spent half an hour doing my hair (which I never do, because I’m completely useless at it) and another half hour doing a full-on evening makeup (which I hardly ever do, because I’m too lazy), he decided he was too tired and too sick to go out. Wonderful timing, sweetheart. Especially considering you were well enough to go out Friday night…

So, as penance, he has to take me out on a proper “date” this Saturday. That means a nice romantic night, getting nicely dressed up, going to a nice restaurant and out for drinks somewhere nice afterwards. It would have been cheaper and easier for him if he’d just got off his butt and gone to the 30th, but you know boys – sometimes they’re slightly slow learners.

exhausted but intact

Well, we all survived the weekend exhausted but intact. There were no tears, no major tantrums and no screaming “I want my mum”. And the kids were okay too.

We managed to keep them entertained from about 10.15 am Saturday to 5.30 pm Sunday, so did pretty well for amateurs, I thought. Especially considering they decided they were wide awake at 5 o’clock on Sunday morning, which is not an hour I consider civilised. I must confess, though, I’m glad I don’t have to do this every day. Parenthood / Caregiving is certainly not an easy job.

wish me luck!

The Boy and I are looking after my 6 year old godson and his 4 year old sister this weekend, which should be interesting. Although we’ve spent time with the family on holiday, and I’ve had one of the kids at a time for short periods, it’s the first time we’ve had them overnight without “parental supervision”.

Fortunately The Boy loves kids, so I know he won’t abandon me to it (not if he wants to live, anyway). Plus, he is already a favourite with The Godson due to his willingness to kick around a soccer ball for extended periods of time.

So, wish us luck – hopefully we won’t be complete physical and emotional wrecks by Sunday (and hopefully neither will the kids!!). I figure if all else fails, we can always go visit my mum…

cooking machine

I’m not sure what’s got into The Boy lately, but he’s been a cooking machine for the past couple of weeks. He would definitely have cooked more than I have in the last two or three weeks, which is pretty rare.

I don’t know what has caused it but, believe me, I’m not complaining – long may it last!

selective blindness

I have a question – do guys have the same eyes women do? I’m starting to think that the male of the species has a genetic defect that causes selective blindness.

How many times have all the women out there heard “Babe, where is the XXX”? Yet when you tell them precisely where to find whatever they’re looking for, they can’t see it. Even when they’re looking right at it.

How many times have you seen a guy staring blankly into a cupboard (or wherever) completely unable to see what they’re looking for. They insist that you’re wrong and that the item is not where you say it is. So, you interrupt whatever you were doing (which is clearly less important) and pick up the item from right in front of their nose. Every time.

If someone could find a cure for this selective male blindness, I’m sure there are millions of women out there who would happily pay any sum of money for their men to receive the treatment. I know I would.

tough decisions

Never mind “First Up, Best Dressed” – in our house its “First Up, Warmest Shower”.

The fact that I love my long showers has been a standing joke in my family most of my life. Now the biggest joke of all (and its on me, sadly) is that these days I live with someone who is even worse than I am. And compounding the problem is the fact that we have quite a small hot water cylinder.

So, every morning, especially in winter, it’s a race for the 2nd person in the shower to finish before the dreaded cold water starts flowing. Unfortunately that person is usually me, since The Boy starts work earlier than I do (and therefore gets out of bed before I do). What a horrible decision to have to make – get out of bed earlier, which I also loathe and despise, or have to have a super-quick shower. I must really love that Boy to live with this.

sold out

Don’t you hate it when you’re really looking forward to seeing a movie but its sold out when you arrive? That happened to us on Saturday night with Pirates of the Caribbean 2. We would normally have pre-booked online, but I had free passes which couldn't be pre-booked (but could be used at No Complimentary movies, so obviously not Hoyts passes…).

The other choices weren’t too hot. The Boy refused to see Take the Lead, I refused to see Final Destination 3 and we’d already seen Superman and X-Men. That left a choice of Click or RV. I’m not a big fan of Adam Sandler, but it seemed better than watching a Robin Williams family vacation movie, so we saw Click.

Even when the movie you end up seeing isn’t too bad, you still have that dissatisfaction of missing out on your first choice. Oh well, no doubt we’ll see it another time.

one for the record books

You may remember the posting about how much cheaper the trip to supermarket was without The Boy along making all his usual impulse buys.

Well, we made the personal record books last night – a trip to the supermarket with The Boy with no impulse buys! Amazing but true.

We had a little chat before we went in about how we're supposed to be saving money and how the little things have a habit of adding up. We decided to see if we could make the rounds without picking up any wee extras, and we actually made it. It really made a difference at the checkout, too. I’d hate to promise that we’ll manage it every time, but its good to know that we can if we have to.

shameless plug

My friends Danika & Andrew are heading off to compete in the Salsa World Champs in Las Vegas in December (go guys!). They’re having a fundraiser on Thursday 27 July at Guada Bar in Manukau (Ronwood Ave, opposite the mall). Tickets are only $10 each, which includes a free drink, free salsa lesson, a band and a bunch of performances by some of NZ’s best latin dancers. There will be sales at the door, if there are any tickets left by then, but why not secure your tickets beforehand? It should be a great night.

For details on how to get tickets, see www.sensalsa.co.nz or email me at pjinthecity@gmail.com.

super long

The Boy & I went to see Superman Returns last night (not my first choice, but the timings were best). It was better than I was expecting, which probably wasn’t hard, but it was a bit long and waffly. The new guy looks eerily like Christopher Reeve in some of the shots – its quite bizarre – and Kevin Spacey is a good Lex Luther. Its definitely more of a wait-for-dvd movie, though.

zero bubbles

As everybody not living under a rock will have seen, Coke Zero is Coke’s latest ‘new big thing’ here. Although I agree that the taste is a bit more like original coke than diet coke is, I’m not going to be rushing to buy more coke zero. Why? Because it goes flat faster than a popped balloon or a New York gang member hearing gunshots.

I can’t understand why, but zero seems to lose it’s bubbles ten times as fast as original or diet coke. Strange but true.

what is it with guys & chicken?

There is a bit of a standing joke in our house – whenever The Boy asks what I’m making for dinner, my answer is chicken (whether that’s the truth or not). Although he has become better about it over the time we’ve lived together, along with learning how to eat veges, he doesn’t really consider chicken to be real meat. Thinking about it, my dad and my brother are pretty much the same – its not real meat unless its red.

So my question is this: why is chicken seen as ‘chick food’ (no pun intended)? What is it about chicken that makes it ‘unmanly’??

ah, nostalgia…

I popped in to a dvd sale on the weekend and picked up a few $10 dvds. The title selection at these sales is always pretty sad, so it was slim pickings. I did find a couple I couldn’t resist, though. Not necessarily because they’re such fantastic movies, but because they take me back to my high school years and memories of watching them again and again with friends. It was a real nostalgia trip, and I loved it.

Of course, since he doesn’t have those memories and was just judging the movies on their actual merits, The Boy thought I was totally mad. Maybe I am, but it was fun.

where does it come from?

I’m in the process of moving offices at the moment, which is a pain in the butt. You don’t realise how much stuff you have until you have to move it, although at least it isn’t as bad as moving house. Mind you, what could be?

The thing that really amazes me, though, is how dirty things are. I like to think I’m pretty good at keeping my office clean – I clean my desk and shelves regularly, ditto my keyboard, mouse and phone. And yet I was looking at my hands after moving a bunch of stuff yesterday and they were seriously black with dust. So where does it all come from? You’d think an environment as sealed as an office building would be cleaner (its not like our windows open or anything). I guess it just goes to show how shoddy and unhealthy our air-conditioning system is.

girly-ness gone mad

Mum has always been the ultimate girly-girl, with a ‘pink is good and pink & fluffy is better’ kind of attitude. So you can imagine how happy she was to see Telecom’s new offering – the Pinkilicious mobile phone. Yes, it’s a pink phone, with pink casing and pink buttons. And yes, she got one on Monday, the very same day they were released (and wanted it bad enough to go to three different shops to track one down).

Oh well, it may be way too frou-frou for me, but I guess it will go nicely with her pink keyboard and pink mouse…

extreme ambience?

I know many restaurants like to have ‘mood’ lighting to add extra ambience, but SPQR in Ponsonby really takes the cake. The lighting is so dim that you need a torch to read the menu. Seriously. I had dinner there last night with a couple of industry friends, and the waiter was giving patrons a torch to read the menu with. And, believe me, it was necessary.

Mind you, dim light is my best light, so I shouldn’t complain too much!

Despite its wee quirks, or perhaps because of them, I do like dining at SPQR (aka Camptown). The food is always good and the waiters are always entertaining.

overly desperate

The first season of Desperate Housewives was great. It was quite camp, quirky and funny – a true guilty pleasure. The second season has turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, largely because of that dropkick Susan. I swear she gets more ridiculous every week. I think what the show needs to improve it 100% is for the psycho young guy in the basement (Caleb? I can’t remember his name) to do us all a favour and kill Susan off.

can I get a refund, please?

I was wondering – who do I need to see about getting a refund on a crap weekend? Surely there must be somebody I can complain to about this.

With the exception of a lovely dinner with friends on Saturday night, this past weekend wins the Most Crap Two Days Of The Year So Far award. It was one of those weekends when you wonder why you bothered getting out of bed, because everything that can go wrong does. It was so bad that the highlight of the whole two days (other than dinner Saturday) was giving the apartment a somewhat overdue spring clean.

So, if we can be refunded for products that don’t live up to their promise, doesn’t it seem wrong that we can’t be refunded for time that doesn’t?

surprisingly ok

Well, Brazil’s World Cup is over for another 4 years – ignominiously bundled out in the quarter finals. I was expecting some tantrums and tears, but The Boy is surprisingly ok about it. I think the fact that Argentina and England are also out helped a lot. I was sorry to see Brazil go – I was hoping they’d win – but at least we can go back to having a decent sleep now.

oblivious or polite?

Ok, I’m getting a bit of a complex here. Last night I dyed my hair chocolate brown, which is very different from the dark blondes and copper blondes it’s been for many years.

You’d think that people would notice a change that big, but it’s pushing midday and not one person has said anything. Its not like I’ve been hiding in my office either – I’ve interacted with dozens of people this morning.

So my question is this: Are people really that oblivious, or is it so bad that they politely don’t want to mention it?

progress update

For those of you are wondering, here is a progress update on The Boy’s resolutions. There has been one wee setback - he has decided to defer the start of the alcohol-free one until after the World Cup. He isn’t doing too bad on the added sugar and coffee ones though, as far as I know. He’s been good at home, anyway (although work could be a different story).

sleep deprived

I think sleep deprivation could do The Boy in before the World Cup is over. It’s not just the fact that the games are in the early hours of the morning that’s the problem. Unfortunately, if Brazil is playing, he can’t sleep the night before. Brazil played (and won) at 3 am yesterday, and he would be lucky to have had an hour of sleep in total before or after the game. He was in bed by 8 pm last night and slept like a rock until the alarm went off this morning.

The real bugger for me is this: when he can’t sleep, neither can I. I don’t even like soccer, but I’m nearly as sleep deprived as he is. July 10 can’t come quickly enough.

a bit mean

I bought The Boy a present on Saturday which, considering the promises he made last week, was probably a bit mean. Remember promise number 3? The “I won’t drink more than 4 cups of coffee per week” one? Yes, I got him an espresso machine… In my own defence, I was at the Sunbeam factory clearance, and they had an incredible special on them. And he does love it.

Besides, if you’re only allowed 4 cups per week, they should at least be good ones, right?

bad business

I spent my Sunday afternoon at the Bride & Groom Show with my future sister in law, my mum and one of the other bridesmaids. I have to ask – how can there be so much ugly stuff out there specifically designed for a day that is supposed to be so beautiful?? Some of it was just horrific.

Anyway, we went to one of the seminars presented by a hair & beauty company, who shall remain nameless. The presentation was good – the models were well done and the guy talking was fantastic, with some really excellent points.

Since he had been so good, we popped in to their “pamper zone” to see about getting a sample make-up done by them. They could squeeze in an appointment for The Bride & I, which we thought would be great. The girl I got wasn’t bad – she did a good job of the eye make up, although the lippie wasn’t so flash.

Unfortunately, The Bride wasn’t so lucky. She got an absolute dipstick. Tell me this – would any makeup artist with half a brain, having been told that the bride (who is blonde) is wearing baby pink, proceed to do an eye makeup so dark and black that it honestly looked like she’d been punched in the eye? For a wedding? It was so bad that The Bride asked her to take it off and try something else. Well, she did. It was a little better, but still very dark and black, and a pretty rough job. By that time, though, we just wanted to get out of there.

As it turns out, some of the people they had working in their makeover area were only students. It seems to me like very bad business practice to have inexperienced and, in some cases, incompetent makeup artists demonstrating for you at a show like that. We came out of the seminar feeling good about this company, but after that makeover we wouldn’t have them do the wedding makeup if you paid us. Very foolish on their part.

a shaky start

Last night The Boy made a few very bold pledges, which I’m personally sure he will regret very soon. I’d like to clarify that these are promises he made to himself – they weren’t demanded by me in any way, shape or form.

He said that he was going to:
1. Eat no sugar until February 2007 (meaning adding no sugar to his coffee, no cake, sweets etc).
2. Drink no alcohol until February 2007.
3. Drink no more than 4 cups of coffee per week until February 2007.

I’ve seen him go alcohol-free for a couple of months before, so I don’t think that is really the difficult promise (although there is still the rest of the World Cup, his birthday, Xmas and New Year to get through before February 2007).

The real problem will be the coffee. This is a guy who drinks 4-5 cups per day (at least one of which is usually a 4 shot flat white) saying he can reduce to 4 cups per week. Hmmm… no, sorry Boy, I don’t think so. Especially when you’re already on your 2nd cup today, and its only 11 am.

buying for boys is hard…

Buying presents for guys is 1000% harder than buying for girls, don’t you think? At least it is if you’re not buying on an unlimited budget, and especially if you’re buying for a friend not a partner.

The things guys like seem to be a lot more expensive, on average – ‘big boy toys’ like x-boxes, phones, playstations, car stuff etc. Anything cheaper that they want, they tend to go out and buy straight away (even when it’s right before their birthday, which is incredibly frustrating). You can always go with the old standby – alcohol – but for milestone birthdays like 21, 30, 40, 50 etc, its nice to give a keeper present, not something that’ll probably be gone by the end of the night.

Don’t get me wrong here – I’m not saying that girls don’t like expensive things too. Of course we do. But there are more options in various price ranges for us – jewellery, homewares, clothes etc, that don’t always have to be expensive. Can you imagine the look on a guy’s face if you gave him a platter for his birthday??

Although it can be done, finding a nice present for a reasonable price (that the person will actually like and use) usually takes a lot more searching for boys than girls.

lifestyle change anyone?

A friend of mine, who lives in Sydney, made an announcement yesterday which floored us all. She has quit her job and is going to join her man, who has been working in the Solomon Islands since January. Wow – Solomon Islands, huh? That’ll be a change of pace, to say the least (and no, Boy, this doesn’t mean I’ll change my mind about us moving to Kodiak Island).

The company he works for provides a house, complete with generator, 6 foot fence and security guard. Yes, generator and security guard.

You go, girl. Have fun – can’t wait to see the new blog.

complimentary, my butt

I really think that Hoyts so-called complimentary movies passes are a major con. I was given two Hoyts passes recently, which can also be used at VillageSkyCity in Queen St only. Of the 14 movies that are potentially on show tonight at our local multiplex, 7 of them are “no complimentaries”. The 7 that we could use the passes for have all been out for weeks, at least (in fact, one of the 7 has been showing since 30 March!). Four of them we’ve already seen and the other 3 we have no real desire to see.

New release movies are almost always “no complimentaries” for at least 2 weeks, and it can be close to a month for big movies. So really, “complimentary” movie passes are only good for people who hardly ever go to the movies, and who don’t mind waiting for weeks after release to see films.

Personally, I think it’s a con to trap the uninitiated. You get people coming along planning to see a particular new movie, only to find that the passes can’t be used. By then, they’ve been looking forward to seeing that specific film, and end up paying to go. Well done, Hoyts, you’ve just forced the poor punter to pay out cash & have to come back again to use their passes! It’s not like the vast majority of movie passes haven’t been paid for by somebody – there very few truly complimentary movie passes floating around out there – so why not just accept them for everything? Shame on you, Hoyts.

how to strike terror into a man’s heart

Just because I took an evil delight in deliberately striking terror into The Boy’s heart last night, does that mean I’m a bad person? Ok, so maybe I am, but it was fun!

I was writing a few things into our calendar last night, and reminded The Boy that I’d be out on Sunday. When he asked what I was up to, I said “I’m going to the Bride & Groom Show, and I’m going to come home with loads of great ideas”. The look of baffled terror on his face was priceless – it was every bit as good a reaction as I’d hoped for. Once I’d stopped rolling around the floor laughing, I relented and told him that I was going with my future sister-in-law to get ideas for her, not me.

Bride & Groom Show Entry: $15
Brunch with the bride & mum beforehand: $25
The look on The Boy’s face: priceless

she shopped, I dropped

I have to hand it to mum – she is a shopping machine.

This Mother’s Day she wanted clothes, and the deal was that we’d go shopping together so she could try on and choose for herself. Being the busy social butterfly she is, and not helped by the fact that she works Saturdays, we’d been having a bit of trouble finding a Sunday she could do. Yesterday afternoon she finally managed to squeeze in a bit of time for me (between brunch with the girls and dinner out with dad). I think the “well, you obviously don’t want a present this year” noises I’d started making finally convinced her.

Basically we spent over 2 hours in one store, trying on half the stock and considering options. It was the kind of store where when they have a half price sale (which they were), they’re just expensive instead of a ludicrous price, but they do have some beautiful clothes. After a lot of trying on and negotiation over exactly what I was going to cover and what she had to get herself, plus a quick phone call to dad, mum walked out of the store with 6 new items of clothing. She was rapt – I was just exhausted!

and they say women are impulse shoppers…

The Boy and I usually go to the supermarket every 2 weeks or so to do the bulk of our shopping. He doesn’t particularly enjoy going to the supermarket, but neither do I and I generally refuse to suffer it alone.

Last night I did go alone, though. The Boy had a late meeting and I thought I may as well get it over with (plus, he’d be home in time to help carry the bags in). One thing I did notice as I was going through the check out was the much smaller number of “impulse” buys. No chocolate, no beef jerky, no magazines etc. And I should probably point out that these are never things that he will share – these are his personal treats. The only impulse buy, without him along, was some wine that was on sale (which both of us drink).

So there you go – proof that men are just as bad, if not worse, at impulse shopping. Mind you, that doesn’t mean he’s going to get out of going to the supermarket with me from now on. It might cost a little more when he comes along, but at least I’m not navigating the madness by myself.

go brazil!

Brazil winning their first match in this World Cup must have put The Boy in a good mood. When I got home from work last night he was waiting with a glass of wine for me, and announced that he was taking me out to dinner and a movie.

Of course I was always hoping that Brazil would win, as a good girlfriend should, but it looks like I now have an added incentive to cheer for them…

wasted time

The Boy and I went to the movies last Friday night with a couple of friends. After a bit of debate, we decided to see The Omen. I left the theatre afterwards wondering why they’d bothered with the remake. There weren’t really a lot of whizz-bang effects or changes. It was an almost word for word remake of the original, with just a few minor differences (mainly to update it with new technology, like digital cameras and email).

Quite honestly, I think I’d recommend getting the original out on dvd rather than going to see the new version.

definitely not cheating

Well, last night The Boy more than made up for last week’s toasted sandwich dinner. I got home from work to find him not only feeling 100% better, but putting the final touches on a big pot of made-from-scratch soup. Since homemade soup is one of my very favourite winter meals, he definitely got points off the scale for that lovely surprise.

literally powerless…

We don’t realise how reliant we are on electricity until it isn’t there, do we? The power went out in the city about 8.30 this morning, and didn’t come back on until 12.30 pm. We were all sitting around work griping about it, and realising how completely dependent we are on our computers. All the local cafes were out of action, as was our boiling water tap, so some of the caffeine addicts were getting pretty ugly, too.

The Boy is home sick today, and was completely gutted that he couldn’t even watch tv or play with his computer. I popped home earlier to check on him (since I work just over the street), and he was still sulking about it. He really isn’t the best patient in the world, poor baby. Oh well, at least the power is back now.

cheating?

So, if you’ve promised to cook dinner, is making toasted sandwiches cheating? I’m a little torn on this one. On one hand, you technically have provided food, which is what you promised to do. On the other hand, though, it isn’t really a “proper” dinner.

Yes, The Boy made toasted sandwiches for dinner last night. Ten points for keeping his promise, but minus 5 for execution…

go boy!

On Monday, The Boy promised me that he would cook Tuesday to Friday this week (I may have mentioned that he’d been a tad slack in this area lately…).

I must have looked a little sceptical, because he then asked, in ever so slightly offended tones, if I wanted it in writing. Of course I did, so there is now a little green sticky note in the kitchen bearing witness to his promise.

To give him credit, he has indeed cooked for the last two nights, which bodes well for him following it through to the end. Well done, babe – keep up the good work.

And for those who are wondering – yes, he can cook!

sacrilege!

Apparently there is a theme park in Japan currently hosting a tribute to ice cream. Ordinarily I’d think this was a great idea, since I must confess to considering ice cream a staple food group.

However, I read the list of flavours they were featuring with growing horror. As if flavours like soy sauce, wasabi and fish salad weren’t bad enough, it seems the top choice is cow tongue flavour. Yes, cow tongue flavour. This stomach-churning concoction is made with a mixture of vanilla and beef broth, with little red chunks of actual cow tongue.

I can’t even begin to describe how deeply wrong that is.

a harmless passion

I may tease The Boy about his addiction to football but, all in all, it’s a pretty harmless passion. I was just reading an article about Mark Inglis, the idiot (oops, did I say that out loud??) who recently returned from Everest. You know, the one whose climbing party left a fellow climber to die.

Imagine having a partner who, having already lost his legs mountain climbing, decides to give Everest a shot at him. This time he “only” lost a few fingertips, although there may be further damage to his leg stumps as well. Imagine being the partner of an extreme sportsman like that. Waiting for the call about whether he was alive or dead, and what condition he was in this time.

The Boy may come back with a few lumps & bumps from a football game, and may get up at all hours to watch Brazil play, but at least I don’t need to worry about whether he’ll die from it. Except for the possible heart attack risk if Brazil makes it to the World Cup final. I guess football isn’t so bad after all…

the ultimate winter comfort food

After the icy blasts we had this long weekend, there can be no doubt that winter has well and truly arrived. And along with winter temperatures comes winter comfort food. Usually a remnant of childhood, winter comfort food is whatever makes you feel warm, cosy and, of course, comforted on a nasty day.

For me, the ultimate is definitely homemade soup. The Boy and I beat the winter chill yesterday with a huge pot of it, with a bit of warm cheese bread on the side. What a great meal to warm up a cold, nasty evening.

how can it be so hard?

I was putting my black pants on this morning, and noticed that they really are getting a bit past it. You know what that means – its that time every woman dreads: time to go shopping for black pants.

Every woman’s-wear store you go in to, especially at this time of year, has black pants for sale, usually in at least 3 different styles. With that being the case, why is it so hard to find a pair you like, that fit well and are reasonably flattering?

I know I’m not alone in this – I work with loads of women, and most of them agree. How can buying something as seemingly easy as a pair of black pants be so hard?

run, forrest, run

The Boy and I finally saw the da Vinci Code last night. Although I thought the book was better, overall it’s a pretty well done movie.

The major drawback is how can you take the guy who played Forrest Gump seriously in a role as intellectual as Robert Langdon?

Every time Tom Hanks’ da Vinci Code character was deep in thought over some knotty code, he got that slightly vacant, puzzled look. It might make me a bad person, but all I could think was “run, Forrest, run!”… because that’s just who he looked like…

false advertising

Never mind the media – in my opinion, the world’s most widespread case of false advertising can be witnessed in cafes and kitchens in every country on the globe. So what am I talking about? Coffee.

My question is this: how can something smell so amazingly good and yet taste so amazingly bad?

I know I’m not really in step with most of the population in thinking this, but I find the taste of coffee absolutely disgusting. The Boy is the complete opposite – just the thought of a 4 shot flat white with a sprinkle of cinnamon sends him into a Homer Simpson-style trance (“mmm, coffee…”). Not me. Give me a nice green tea over that any day.

if in doubt, give presents

One thing I do find kind of odd are those moments when co-workers bring their babies & toddlers to the office to visit. These aren’t children you see more than once or twice a year, if that, and I’m never quite sure what to do with them. Especially when the co-worker is also a friend, so you can’t get away with just ignoring them.

You don’t know really anything about the child’s likes or dislikes, or even about their basic personality type. They’re looking at you like the stranger you are, and generally seem paralysed by any questions you might ask to try to break the ice. Older kids are happy to chat about themselves, but strange toddlers can sometimes be a bit more of a challenge, especially when they're in such an unfamiliar environment.

As a non-parent, I’ve always found bribery works well in these situations. Fortunately, in my office I usually have a few little toys or pins or suchlike that my suppliers have given me (some of whom are big-name child magnets). I’ve always found that handing over one of these works a treat.

Yes, its bribery and corruption, but hey – it works!

only in Ireland

I don’t really want to re-start the whole debate on the merits of football players, but I just read a very bizarre article. Apparently, Belfast has just named the smaller of their two airports after Irish football star George Best, who passed away in late 2004.

Now, I have nothing against things being named after local sporting heroes, but is George Best really someone who should be held up as a hero and role model? Alcoholism put an early end to his career, and his incessant drinking put him on the liver transplant list. Even after receiving the transplant, and being told he would die if he didn’t stop drinking, he defied doctors’ orders and drank himself into the grave. What a waste of a donor organ – I feel sorry for the family of the donor and the family of the person who was next on the list.

This is surely the most “Irish” decision I’ve seen in a long time.

one shoe

Why is it that whenever you’re in a hurry you can only find one of the shoes you need? You can find dozens of other pairs, but not both shoes of the pair you really really want.

And why is it that you can always find one of the shoes? Finding one of them just rubs salt in the wound. After all, if you can find one of them then, seriously, how far away can the other one be??? But no – you never lose both shoes, just one. And yet as soon as you come back home from wherever you’ve been (wearing 2nd choice shoes), there they both are. Right where you’d swear you’d already looked a dozen times.

I don’t believe in Santa (sorry kids), the Tooth Fairy or The Monster Under the Bed, but I’m perfectly willing to believe there is a Shoe Thieving Elf out there whose sole purpose in life (no pun intended) is to hide my shoes. One at a time.

dark & dangerous

The Boy is wearing his black shirt today – coincidence or reaction to the pretty in pink posting? I wonder…

pretty in pink

As those who work with him may have already noticed, The Boy has been pretty in pink this week. After a weekend shopping expedition netted him 6 new work shirts (3 of them pink) and a couple of new ties, this week has seen The Boy modelling an array of new gear.

I must admit I was pretty surprised that he agreed to even try on the pink ones, but he did. I guess he must trust my judgement. Either that or he figured the quickest way to get out of the store was to agree with whatever I said. Hmm, yes – I think that scenario is much more likely. A fan of shopping The Boy is definitely not. Either way – you’re looking good, babe.

ah, the passion…

Seems like my wee posting yesterday struck a few nerves with The Boy…

Thanks for your comment FMF – you do have a good point. I’ve personally always found rugby better for that, though – they tend to be bigger than the soccer (oops, sorry – FOOTBALL) players ;o)

the things a man does for love

It’s amazing the things a man will do for his one true love. Get out of bed at the crack of dawn (or earlier), dress in clothes to match his loved one and support that loved one to death and beyond. The Boy has a love like that. If only it were me…

Yes, I’m talking about football (aka soccer). I’m sure there are many women out there who can relate to my pain here – especially those with Brazilian partners (or British, or Iranian, or Italian…). The World Cup starts in a few weeks, and I know I’m going to have a month with a lot of free time on my hands – just another soccer widow. I think I should seriously consider sending The Boy for a full medical check-up before the World Cup starts, though. Having seen how seriously these guys take the game, I’d like to be sure his heart is up to the stress!

there's no place like home…

Corny but true – much as I love travelling, nothing beats that moment when you first get back home. The Boy had a lovely dinner waiting, and seemed to be as happy to see me as I was to see him. It’s been a long and busy couple of weeks, so getting home & putting my feet up felt nearly as good as winning Big Wednesday. Nearly.

The apartment now looks like a tip, with piles of washing & suitcases everywhere, which I know is driving The Boy crazy. Sorry, Boy, but at least give me a few days to sort myself out. Remember how long it took after you got back from your sister’s wedding!

Did I get on the wrong plane?

Just to make the visitor feel safe and secure, there was a ‘Safety Tips’ pamphlet in my rental car. Here are a few selected highlights:

1. Do not idle your car in neutral. You may need to accelerate quickly should someone approach you.
2. Avoid travelling in curbside lanes whenever possible. When stopped in traffic, always leave enough room between your car and the one in front of you so that you can pull around it if necessary.
3. As you approach your car, check inside and beneath your car to make certain no one has hidden in or near your vehicle.

Remind me where I am again? Orlando, Florida (one of the world’s top family holiday destinations) or Baghdad?

and so it goes…

Well, the rental car collection fun & games continue… I picked up another rental car at Orlando Airport this evening. The guy at the counter was great – very friendly and efficient – and I thought all was good. Until I got to the car. After (of course not before) I’d traipsed to the far end of the lot where my assigned car was & put all my heavy bags in the boot, I discovered the car wouldn’t start… doh. After getting all my heavy bags back out of the boot and traipsing all the way back to the customer service desk, they managed to give me a car that worked. Of course it was right back by the first one. On the far side of the lot.

Oh well…

it’s really not cheating…

Is confession really good for the soul? So maybe I should confess that I’ve just been out wining & dining with two lovely, intelligent, funny, gooorgeous men… I did tell The Boy about it, though, if that makes it better - I even sent him pixts of us. Kinky, huh??

Two very lovely friends took me to the Gypsy Den in Santa Ana for dinner, a café which had been recommended to them. It was a quirky wee hippy-ish café – loads of, ummm, loads of character is probably the best description. They also have live entertainment, and I’m very thankful that we went tonight, which is Wednesday (local time). It means we missed Poetry Reading Tuesday and Open Mike Night Thursday. The thought of either is just too hideous to contemplate. Tonight was a jam session with some pretty good jazzy-type musicians.

The food was good, though, and they had a great selection for the veggie guy. Plus, the desserts were definitely yummy. Besides, you’ve got to love a café that has a sign on the counter saying “Friends don’t let friends go to Starbucks.”

All in all, an interesting & fun night to add to the memory box. Mind you, any night in the company of these two lovely lads is bound to be a good one. Thanks guys (and thanks Howard for picking up the tab!).

Is that cheese I smell?

I went on a quick tour of San Diego this morning. Overall, it’s a pretty nice city, although it seems fairly quiet. The lowlight of the tour had to be San Diego’s “Old Town”, though. What a crock – its 99.9% over-priced touristy shops & cafes, 0.1% actual history (if that). It’s a shame that the longest single part of the tour was spent caged in this tourist trap – a full hour they left us there, when there are far superior parts of the city to explore. Talk about cheesy. This isn’t a nice low-fat edam, it’s a full-on, overly-aged roquefort. Yes, that is cheese I smell…

Panda eyes – and not just in the mirror this time…

Let’s be honest – when most kiwi chicks talk about panda eyes, they’re talking about the consequences of not taking their mascara off the night before. Not today, though. This afternoon I took a look at the pandas in San Diego Zoo. They really are so much cuter up close & personal than they are in pictures. As an added bonus, one of them was being hyperactive – running around & climbing trees. I had no idea pandas could climb so well (or at all, for that matter). All together now – awww, how cuuute….

past my use-by date

Well, here I am in San Diego on Sunday afternoon (local time). After a 12 hour flight immediately followed by a 3 hour drive (trying the whole time to remember that I have to drive on the other side of the road, and that the car/tank I'm in is twice the size of my wee mx5), I've finally checked into my first hotel of the trip. I'm definitely feeling well past my best-before date, even after a shower.

I would like to ask whats up with staff at car rental counters, though. Has anyone out there ever picked up a rental car when the counter staff didn't have some sort of issue that meant you had to stand around for half an hour arguing with them until they pulled their fingers out of their butts & did what they were supposed to? I've had a good experience maybe once or twice in all the times I've had a rental car, but today wasn't one of them. Enough said about that.

Just in case I needed it – another excuse!

I can always justify shoe shopping to myself, but I’ve just been given another excuse I can use to justify it to The Boy. My brother and his fiancée are getting married next February (see their website link on the right), and preparations are well underway. My mission, and I’ve chosen to accept it, is to keep an eye out for wedding shoes while I’m in the USA.

Sorry, Boy, but what’s a bridesmaid to do? It’s my duty!

Flat shoes???

I’m heading away on a business trip to the USA in a few days – a combination of California & Florida, this time. I’m lucky that business trips for me (being in the travel industry) often involve theme parks and sightseeing tours – one of the few perks of the industry. The downside is trudging around inspecting 10 huge hotels a day in 33 degree heat.

Anyway, this time I’m fortunate enough to be invited to a Busch Entertainment VIP party. They’re the owners of the SeaWorld & Busch Gardens theme parks (and Budweiser!), among other things. This year we’re being picked up from Orlando in Hummer limos (believe me, The Boy is so green with envy that he looks like Kermit the Frog) and taken to Busch Gardens Tampa Bay for a private “safari party”. I can tell you from past experience, these guys really know how to put it on, so I know its going to be a great night.

Just one problem, though… my lovely friend who has organised this emailed today to say there’ll be a fair bit of walking & an outdoor dinner (on grass, by the sound of it), so comfortable shoes are recommended – and she suggested flat shoes. Flat. I don’t own any flat shoes except ratty old beach slips-ons and ratty old sneakers, neither of which are appropriate. Seriously. Not that I’m admitting to being short or anything, I just like heels. Honest. I think I’ll have to take this as a good excuse to go shoe shopping when I get to the USA – damn, what a terrible thing to have to do… Sorry, Boy, but what can I do?? I’m being forced to go shoe shopping! And if I just happen to find something else I like, say some nice new strappy heels, well that’s not really my fault, is it??

Scrapheap Challenge

Have you ever seen the Scrapheap Challenge on tv? It’s a very sad and strange show where teams compete to build something (usually a car or boat) out of scrap from a junkyard. Well, we had our own version of the scrapheap challenge last night, albeit a somewhat less greasy & grimy one. Warning to all guys: you might want to stop reading now – this is definitely a girly post!

I have a friend’s wedding in a few weeks, and have been wondering what to wear. I was given a skirt a while back that I never wear because, although I like the top, I hate the bottom of it. So, I had the bright idea of chopping the bottom off and replacing it with some black satin that I knew I had in storage.

After trekking out to the storage unit to pick up my sewing bag and then to mum’s to use the sewing machine, I discovered the satin wasn’t in my sewing bag… which meant it was MIA somewhere in the depths of the bedlam we not-so-lovingly call our storage unit. Doh! It was just too hard to head back looking for it, so we plumbed the long-forgotten depths of my sewing bag (unused for many years) to find an alternative.

What we found was a huge amount of lovely soft black silk, a big length of black organza and a shorter length of broderie anglais black satin. After a bit of consultation, we decided to just make a new skirt from scratch, and settled on a layered wraparound that only required a few hooks and a vintage brooch found at the bottom of one of mum’s old jewellery box (no nasty zips or buttonholes). Mum definitely earned an upgraded Mother’s Day present by slaving away doing the actual sewing while my sister in law & I supervised.

The result is fantastic – just like a bought one, only better. Not bad for a ‘scrapheap challenge’ skirt. Thanks mum – you’re a star.

Never trust a boy’s bargains…

You’d think I would’ve learned by now, but every now & then I decide to give The Boy the benefit of the doubt when he wants to make a bargain. You know the type of thing I mean –“Honey, if you cook tonight I’ll cook every other night this week…” What he doesn’t seem to realise is that every time I do give him the benefit of the doubt & he blows it, he just makes it harder for himself next time.

Yes, you guessed it – I foolishly caved and made exactly that bargain on Tuesday night. At the time he was given an exemption for Thursday, since we’d already planned the movies, but was supposed to do Wednesday and Friday to Sunday. Well, care to guess how many of those 4 days he actually cooked??? No, not zero. After conveniently deciding to go out with the boys on Wednesday & Friday nights (which he decided to do after he’d already made the bargain), he did manage to cook one meal – he made a beautiful dinner on Saturday. So well done, Boy – you’ve won a special prize – the “Gee, Thanks Honey” prize.

check out Rialto’s extreme makeover

We went to the Rialto in Newmarket last night for the first time since it re-opened. One word – wow. What a difference. I used to avoid Rialto whenever possible, even though they show some great movies, because the grot factor was just too high for me - call me a snob, but I do at least expect semi-cleanliness. The place has been completely transformed (plus, you can take your glass of wine from the bar into the cinema, which is great for all us booze-hags).

The Boy & I were there thanks to his connections at the Brazilian Embassy. He scored us tickets to the Latin Film Festival opening, and the pre-drinks hosted by the Ambassador of Mexico. Very nice. The movie was Amar te Duele (Love Hurts) – a Mexican film. It was basically a modern Romeo & Juliet, and wasn’t bad if you like such things. It was definitely too long, and the director seemed to have a bit of a thing for nipples. There were loads of gratuitous nipple shots – male and female (although, oddly enough, The Boy only noticed the female ones…).

My main complaint about the movie was that we were sitting in the front row, which is too close for a subtitled film (it was pre-seated and full, so we couldn’t move). Since my Spanish is limited to ordering a beer and cursing at people (you know, just the important stuff!), it was a bit of a pain.

All in all, though, a good night out.

Who is that guy?

Ok, so the hair wasn’t too bad, in an Establishment sort of way. I will miss the long flowing locks, but the short hair does make the grade. It makes The Boy look pretty different though – what is it they say? A change is as good as a rest?

I'm scared!

Yep, I'm a bit scared to go home today. The Boy got his long hair all chopped off today. It was half way down his back, but is now a Young Republican Short Back & Sides (what am I supposed to hang on to now?!).

I've seen a pic that he sent to my mobile phone, but the resolution isn't too hot. Makes it a bit hard to tell how it looks, really. Oh well, I'll find out soon enough...

Its a disease...

Did anybody watch the controversial “Bloody Mary” episode of South Park? If so, you’ll know that they were actually bagging alcoholics and AA more than Christians, and you’ll understand the “It’s a disease – I’m powerless” reference.

Anyway, I’m more and more convinced that The Boy does indeed have a disease, and is (quite willingly) powerless. The disease is computeritis, with the added complication of internetitis.

His latest discovery is http://www.orkut.com/ – a sort of ‘find an old friend’ website. There are dozens (perhaps hundreds) of his old school friends, family and acquaintances from Brazil on the site, and he has been like a kid at Xmas since he discovered it yesterday.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the wicked witch of the west. Well, ok, maybe sometimes… I’m happy for him finding all these people again & being able to catch up with what they’re doing (even if it does seem like half of the female population of South Brazil are ex-girlfriends of his). I think its lovely for him, but its just the latest in a long string of discoveries of such things (Google Earth, Hi-5 etc etc). Its never ending, which is both the blessing & the curse of the internet.

If anyone knows a cure for computeritis and/or internetitis, can you please contact me on pjinthecity@gmail.com – I’m willing to pay. A lot.

a confession...

I have a confession to make - I've never really understood the appeal of blogging. My partner is a mad-blogger, with not one but two blogs - one of which he spends a huge amount of time updating and fiddling with. I suspect he may also have a 3rd secret (from me, anyway) blog where he vents about my... well, lets call them my 'adorable quirks'.

In my role as Good Girlfriend I read his blogs daily, but they're pretty much the only ones I've ever looked at regularly. I do like the Borowitz Report (www.borowitzreport.com) for a bit of news satire, though.

Anyway, my personal take on blogging has always been why the hell would anyone want to read random rants from people they don't even know? And who the hell has time to upload pages and pages of stuff every day? However, The Boy has suggested that I not knock it until I try it, so here goes. A commitment from me to not only try to read more blogs, but to actually have one of my own & see how long it lasts. Any suggestions of worthwhile (and preferably entertaining) reading are welcome.

One thing I've learned from The Boy is this: keep it short & simple. Plus, you're probably not as interesting as you think you are...

So, with this in mind, the Virgin Blogger is about to make a start. Watch this space...