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.