So the girlchild has been asking for a hamster for about two months after seeing one in a pet store on a routine errand with her not-grandmother. 


I tried to do the impossibly responsible parenting thing of mentioning that her room was far too untidy to house a hamster and its associated belongings. 


And you know what..? I'll be damned if she hasn't kept her room clean for over a month without having to be asked. Curses! 


So the boyfriendliest partner and I headed to our local Pets at Home yesterday morning with the intention of looking at hamsters and learning more about them. You know, just in case we slipped slowly into Christmas related insanity.


And you know what..? I'll be damned if we didn't walk out with a hamster and said associated belongings on the spot. The child is going to be amazed, thrilled and excited all rolled up into one nine year-old package. 


And you know what..? I'll be damned if Santa isn't going to get credit for this tiny bundle of furry awesomeness. 


Ho! Ho? Ho.


ps - it's totally cute and I'd be completely lying if I said that @Aero and I weren't completely amused by watching the damn hamster in its damned cage doing damned fluffy and adorable stupid stuff. 

Stupid damn hamster.

So.. [yeah, I know.. it's been a while. I'm old now. Sue me.]

My friend Abi is a really funny lady. She decided to make a film about stalking another friend of ours, Sarah Pinborough. Sarah Pinborough, Author and Blonde Extraordinaire. She decided to stalk Sarah at the World Horror Convention in Brighton last spring. And here's the result... 

And no, you're not allowed to make fun of how big my mouth looks around 4:41... I was drunk and obviously the camera skewed me. 

Heh. I said skewed me.

 

So today is my 40th birthday. The big FOUR OH..

While I wish I had something immanently profound to tell you ... uh, I don't. My first day as a 40 year-old has been lovely and I still feel 12 on the inside.

That's about it!

I will say that if you know someone turning 40, please spare them the 'you don't look it' or 'you look good for 40' comments. It's just plain weird because I'm not exactly sure any of us know what 40 looks like. I just look like me. The me who happens to now be 40. So I guess this is what 40 looks like - totally hot.

This weekend the boyfriendliest and I are off on another grand adventure, complete with road trip, snacks and a cottage with 'superior views' at the end of a dirt road that's almost completely cut off from the outside world. Sounds perfect to me! I'm super stoked... (that's 40 year-old talk for 'very excited')

So enjoy my birthday - I've given you a very, very good reason to eat cake.. You thank me!

Gee, what are you listening to these days?

You're welcome!

From me to you.. my favouritest of favourite Elbow songs. 

And no - it's not just because I've had two of them. 

Shut it.

".... and I'll bring you further roses but it does you no good. It does me no good..."

Speaking of divorces - want to know my official stance? They suck. 

I mean, there's all the emotional crap, that goes without saying. Then there's the really boring stuff that has to be dealt with. Sort of like a loose thread on your favourite jumper that looks like it'll just pull out easily but doesn't. The string just knots up, ruining a lot of the garment landscape around it. 

I'm learning to care about a lot of things a lot less. I'm also learning what I can and can't control... And lemme tell you, there's an awful lot more of the latter than the former.

Fuck it. Let's just listen to Elbow, shall we?

Ps - Never listen to a hard house remix of The Kings of Leon's Use Somebody. You'll thank me for this totally random piece of advice later. 
 

Hey you. No, not you. You.
Wanna see my Instagram photos? Give you a dollar.

Thinkings..

A mere 65 days stands between me and my 40th birthday. Just in case you were curious, bored and/or interested.

But first - the boyfriendliest's birthday is fast approaching. Like two weeks from today kind of approaching. I have a few gift ideas rattling around in my melon but haven't quite decided on what will be, I'm sure, the greatest gift of all time (TGGOAT).

I always like to give gifts that are not just cool but meaningful as well. Now, TGGOAT ... well, it's for my boyfriend, my favourite person in the whole world. So it's going to have to be some kind of awesome.

Think, eBeth, think!

(I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that two of our three children also have birthdays before my gloriously undignified descent into old age happens in 65 days and the other a mere 11 days afterwards. But they're easy - see.. I've turned them on to the concept of Amazon wish lists. They think of it, whack it down on their list and ka-blam! Perfect 'just what I always wanted' present scenarios ensue!)

ps - Amazon totally owes me for all the business I will now, surely, throw their way. Vouchers will be fine, Mr Amazon, thanks. 

My favourite Dilberts

Nerd ahoy / Coffee dork.

The scene:
I'm reading my usual RSS feeds on a Sunday morning. He's taking a break from killing things / playing Call of Duty: Black Ops and looks over my shoulder.

He: You read a Starbucks gossip blog...?!!!

Me: Yeah, why?

He: No reason, but isn't that a bit uh... yeah?

Me: Well, remember when I told you that they were changing their logo earlier this year and I was the only person that we know who knew, including the good people at our local Starbucks? And do you remember how it was me who told said good people that their logo was changing and they just looked at me like I was this oracle of total awesome?*

He: Uh.. yeah?

Me: That's why. Well, that and because I fucking rule.

He: .... smirks and goes back to killing things.

(*okay, they didn't really look at me like I was awesome.. they looked at me like I was an idiot who always orders overly complicated lattes and who happens to read a Starbucks gossip blog.)

What's that? Why yes, that is a new picture over there. Enjoy!

In other news.. here's the song I can't get out of my head - Enjoy!

And here's the viral video that makes me laugh Every. Single. Time. I watch it.
Yeah? - Enjoy!

Okay, so being a bit of a nerd, a lover of books and always willing to at least listen to advice from others... I thought I'd see what books on step-parenting are out there and if any of them looked interesting and/or helpful*.

I have the Kindle app for my iPhone, so I was dicking about on Amazon, looking for those nice free sample chapters that I can peruse at my leisure to see if a book seems interesting or something I wouldn't mind paying for or at the very least borrowing from the library**.

So I search the Kindle store for the simple term 'stepmother' ... here are the results I received in order. You don't actually get to a "normal" self-help type book until result number ten!

• The Stepmother's Sinfully Sexy Surprise  
• The Young Step-Mother
• The Stepmothers Sins
• My Stepmother's Surprise Seduction - An Erotic Novella
• Taboo: Step-Mother's Desperate Measures  
• The Ambitious Stepmother
• The Stepmother Gangbang
• The Wicked Stepmother: A Novel of Erotic Discovery
• The Spanking Stepmother 

Now, it's not that I'm not ambitious or young ..because I totally am. 

But I'm not really all that sinful or desperate or taboo or wicked or even one who likes to spank. Oh and I never ever plan surprise seductions because most days the only way I get to seductive is usually by accident (see first sentence in which I mention being a dork).

Blergh - unhelpful and it, worse still, it completely put me off my lunch. 

Amazon totally owes me £2.35.

*I should state for the record that currently I think I'm totally okay as a step-parent and am really enjoying our lovely blended family. But I figure it can't hurt to know more than I may ever need. Knowledge is power.

**I love how I said that like I go to the library all the time and am a library patron in good standing. We all know the truth, right? I took out a book on the 4th of January and it hasn't quite made its way back yet. I'm going to burn in book hell, I just know it.

***And yes, I know that's not the most flattering photo. Duh. I was emoting, people.

If there's one thing you should know about me that's ever so slightly embarrassing, it's this...

I will listen to ANYTHING that's been autotuned. And I will not just listen to it, I will love it. Adore it. Think it's really excellent music. (I suppose it's something that I can admit that I know it's not, but I kinda like it anyway)

I adore all the geeky Symphony of Science songs (and you should note that I think Stephen Hawking should be permanently autotuned, seeing as he's a robot). I have them on my iPhone... I sing them to myself in my head - and yes, I sing them to myself autotuned.

The Black Eyed Peas AT stuff? Love it.

Then I found AutoTune the News .. HIGHlarious. I mean, who doesn't love an autotuned Katie Couric saying that everything is Pure Poppycock while singing about Bill Cosby? Hmm...?

Knowing me as well as he does - the boyfriendliest partner shared this with me. It satisfies me on so many levels.. The Apprentice? Check. Autotuned? Check check.

Enjoy!

1. I'm an ESFJ on the Myers Briggs personality test.
2. Apparently that makes me sensitive, caring and logical.
3. I am not shy.
4. I am 39 years old, staring a big birthday in the face.
5. I'm cool with said staring.
6. My favourite pizza toppings are beef, green pepper and red onion. It's like eating an unhealthy rainbow.
7. I love to go camping. I am the only person I know who enjoys it.
8. I do not like surprises. At all.
9. My favourite colour combination is pink and green.
10. I discovered that I liked pink and green together while reading The Official Preppy Handbook at age seven.
11. I used to treat The Official Preppy Handbook like a bible. My only copy is well worn and a prized posession.
12. When I was seven I wanted a preppy nickname like Muffy and wanted to go to boarding school.
13. I used to wear sweaters/jumpers over my shoulders.
14. I am originally from Atlanta, Georgia.
15. Until I moved away, I was never proud of being Southern.
16. I am now very proud to be Southern.
17. I am Southern, not Country or a Redneck. There's a difference.
18. Soul and Southern food are the same. Some call it country cooking or cracker cooking. I just think it all tastes good.
19. I like green beans, but only Southern ones that have been cooked for hours at a time.
20. I love math and was on the Mathlete squad in high school. This fact makes me laugh out loud to this very day. Competitive math. Awesome.
21. I love to remind my children that I was a Mathlete. I encourage them to do algebraic equations and proofs with me for fun.
22. My children humour me.
23. I was also the president of the Latin club, treasurer of the school council, in the science club, Key Club, a State officer of the International Thespian Society and for a brief semester in the Future Homemakers of America club.
24. The Future Homemakers of America is now called Family, Career and Community Leaders of America club. I never had any interest in being a leader of family, career or community - I was automatically enrolled because I took a HomeEc class.
25. I have weird musical tastes.
26. I love Lady Gaga and Neil Diamond equally.
27. Not many people know how odd I can be.
28. I work in a very corporate environment.
29. My freak flag does not fly high while I'm at work.
30. I have a therapist and I'm not afraid to use her.
31. The hardest thing for me to accept/deal with is rejection.
32. I am a Scorpio.
33. Apparently being a Scorpio makes me a jealous but sexy person.
34. I am 5'5" tall but feel shorter than that some days.
35. I lost eight stone about four years ago, which is like losing the equivalent of another human being.
36. I liked clothes shopping a lot more when I was larger.
37. I hate it now but appreciate that it's cool to be able to buy things in any store, not just the fat lady ones.
38. Only I'm allowed to make fun of how big I used to be.
39. My second biggest pet peeve is passive agressive behaviour.
40. My biggest pet peeve is chaos.
41. It's not a bad thing to live by a schedule, even if it's a loose one.
42. I am a nerd.
43. I love my gadgets, but not more than people.
44. No one should ever love gadgets more than people.
45. I put my right foot in my tights/jeans/trousers/underpants first. Without exception.
46. My favourite non-alcoholic drink is sweet tea.
47. Where I'm from, we call sweet tea the champagne of the south.
48. I do not drink sweet tea in the UK. This means I rarely drink sweet tea at all but I can still taste it like I had it five minutes ago.
49. My soft drink of choice is Pepsi Max mixed with sugar-free Red Bull.
50. I'm currently on the wagon, taking a big break from drinking alcohol.
51. I used to drink a lot of vodka.
52. I'm fun but stupid when I'm drunk.
53. My favourite flower is the peony. It used to be the tulip.
54. I have the most awesome boyfriend in the world. I could fill up numbers 55-100 telling you about our relationship.
55. Our relationship is private and none of your beeswax. This is the first time I've been protective of a major relationship.
56. I love my children very, very much.
57. My favourite book ever is A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving.
58. I wear a size 7 shoe. I think this might mean I have slightly big feet.
59. I bit my nails for 38 years. I don't any more.
60. I stopped biting my nails because the state of my hands embarrassed me but it wasn't until I really loved the person holding my hand that I stopped.
61. My parents divorced last year. I felt like the world as I knew it stopped spinning for a bit.
62. There are days when I don't handle their split very well.
63. There are days I forget that it's happened. It's easy to ignore sometimes as I'm 4,332 miles away from what I knew as home.
64. I have been married twice and divorced twice.
65. I am not in a hurry to get married again but I'd never say never.
66. It feels weird to have two failed marriages behind me.
67. I like video games but will only play puzzle or logic games. Or DJ Hero.
68. I like to watch other people play first person action video games. I've tried to play them but am rubbish with making my eyeball controller and my feet controller coordinate their actions.
69. I didn't eat spaghetti or mashed potatoes until I was 25.
70. I recently developed the urge to be domestic. I love to clean the bathroom - this works well for our family.
71. I am looking forward to moving house at some point. I would really love to have a garden complete with BBQ and green space for the short people.
72. I'll eat most anything if it's been cooked on a BBQ.
73. My boyfriend will tell you that I'll eat anything with BBQ sauce on it. He's not that wrong.
74. I would not eat fish with BBQ sauce on it. I dislike most things from the sea.
75. I do not like to swim or stick any of my body parts where a fish might touch them.
76. I do not trust fish.
77. I am very pale and do not tan. I burn. It's not hot.
78. I like to wear comfortable shoes.
79. This does not make me a lesbian.
80. I have very little athletic talent.
81. I was what my mother called 'an indoor child' growing up. I did not play sports. I read, drew and dorked about on my own.
82. I slightly push my daughter towards atheletics as I'm trying to make sure she has a chance to be active and/or healthfully competitive.
83. I like American football. I root for the Atlanta Falcons but am mostly interested in college football.
84. I went to the University of Georgia. I'm proud to be an alumni and even have a few UGA t-shirts that I wear every now and again. Go dawgs.
85. I love to take road trips with my boyfriend. We travel well together and both love quirky, off beat roadside attractions.
86. We also love 70's Elvis.
87. I've had one round of Botox in my forehead. I liked it but refused to fork out the dosh needed to keep up the treatments.  
88. I'm secretly hoping for a puppy for my 40th birthday. This will not happen.
89. I went to summer camp from the age of six to 16. I worked at summer camps from the age of 16 to 22.
90. I get a major boner thinking of one day owning my own summer camp.
91. I love to sleep under a heavy, homemade quilt. The one on our bed has been deemed 'The Waltons Blanket' and ends up only on my side a lot.
92. I was a Girl Scout until I was 12. I was competitive with cookie sales and earning badges.
93. I love to watch crappy television. America's Next Top Model, Toddlers and Tiaras, Dog the Bounty Hunter and The Dog Whisperer are my kinda things.
94. I'd like to move to the middle of nowhere with my family in tow and completely drop off the grid. 
95. I do not like working for the man. I'd like to figure out a way to survive financially while doing something I really love. 
96. My favourite movie of all time is Meatballs. It's about a summer camp - go figure.
97. I've only recently learned to play online Poker.
98. I always have a glass/cup/mug/to-go cup of some kind of drink with me. Always. It's a Southern thing.
99. I love modern art, especially Lichetenstein. I dislike Rothko immensely.
100. Someone once told me that if my life were a sit-com, they'd watch it. I found this interesting but not flattering.

My daughter has started saying 'oh, POOP' a lot.. Wonder where she gets it from?

Science, what is it all about? Is it good or is it wank?

Will computers ever be able to figure out 9,999,999,999 multiplied by 9,999,999 is?

Yes.

There are 145.9 days until my 40th birthday..

What's that? I don't look old enough to be staring the four-oh (or my preference, the big four-oh-fucking-shit-how-did-this-happen) in the face? You're kind, friend.. Real, real kind.

I'd like to thank the Academy, my parents for a decent gene pool and Garnier Ultra-Lift moisturiser. Okay, who am I kidding? I'd really like to thank all the little people that I've stepped on en route to the age that apparently is the new 30 or 20 or whatever people are saying these days.

Can I just take the time to say that I don't really care that 40 is the new 30 because uh, I thought 30 was old when it was the new 20. Call me when 40 is the new 18. Saying that - my life really found awesome in the last year, so maybe 40 is really only the new 39?

Ponderous.

Sorry, where was I? Oh yes - I was about to say fuck it - I have 145.9 (probably 149.8 by now) days to worry about whatever the 'essence of 40' is and what that means to me and how it will affect me. I'm guessing it won't make that much difference. But if it does, please don't remind me that I said it wouldn't.

Thanks.

Anyway.. what I really wanted to talk about is cooking and puppies and what sort of trouble the boyfriendliest and I should try to find over the upcoming weekend while balancing the needs of three people under 5'2".

In other words, I'm going to ignore the next 145.9 days. Although, I suppose a bit of cake pre-planning wouldn't hurt!

Speaking of cake - the only cake I will deign to eat is red velvet but only in the form of a cupcake and even then I will only eat half. I know, I know.. Trust me, I'm not trying to be cake-ist, it's just not my thing.

Oh and.. Apparently pie is the new cupcake just like 40 is the new 30. I'm guessing the cupcakes of the world are fucking thrilled to hear that they're no longer cool. Poor cupcakes, it was fun while it lasted, huh?

Ooh!  Remember how Turducken was all the rage about four Thanksgivings and Christmasses ago? (so popular that you can now order a ready-made turducken from Marks & Spencer because who doesn't love mass-produced combined meat products?) Well now there's Cherpumple - three cakes and three pies in one. A cherry pie baked inside a chocolate cake, an apple pie baked inside a yellow cake, and a pumpkin pie baked inside a gingerbread cake.

A vomit baked inside a fart would suit me better. Ick.

Have you heard about the sex scandal featuring Anthony Weiner, a member of the US House of Representatives...? He's a democrat (one of my people, I'll happily admit) and he's in some deep mother-effing trouble. Heh.. I just got to type weiner.

Weiner, Weiner, Weiner.

Weiner admitted June 6 in New York that he engaged in "inappropriate conversations" with six women over the last three years, including by e-mail, on Facebook and Twitter, and on the telephone with one of the women. He was quoted by the New York Post on June 9 as saying he had no plans to give up his House seat.

Friday night on Real Time with Bill Maher, he and "Jane Lynch performed a dramatic (and totally, awkwardly verbatim) reading of Anthony Weiner’s Facebook exchanges with Las Vegas blackjack dealer Lisa Weiss, complete with flirtatious looks, moaning, and Jane Lynch’s smooth comic brilliance. And trust us, when you have a script this good, it doesn’t matter that Maher is giggling uncontrollably to himself. Click through to watch the video, but be warned: as you might expect, the audio is definitely NSFW." (from Flavorwire) (Full transcript of the saucy naughtiness here)

Oh how I giggled.



ps - My throat and entire left side of my head hurts. Please send help, preferably in the form some kind of chocolate and peanut butter combination. xoxo

Holy shit.. Tetris is 27 years old.

Kill. Me.

Hmm.. the new must have books on parenting?

One should note that even though I'm posting this list - my children are blissfully too perfect for me to need these books. They're still funny ha ha, though. I think I might add Go the Fuck to Sleep to my collection which already includes Everyone Poops, The Gas We Pass (The Story of Farts) and an odd assortment of books on snot.

Baby Get Me Some Lovin' by Lisa Brown: If you're a new parent, you know how hard it is to get quality alone time with your partner. Instead of blaming the kid, put him to work! This handy manual will teach your baby how to set the mood for an intimate evening (and then make himself scarce). Thanks, Baby!

Baby Fix My Car by Lisa Brown: Are you a parent? Are you tired of driving around in an old wreck of an automobile? Never fear - help is on the way. This book will teach your little ones the ins and outs of basic repair. It's quick, easy, and best of all, much cheaper than your local garage. Thanks, Baby!

Can I Give Them Back Now?: The Aargh to Zzzz of Parenting by Joanna Simmons: A is for Anxiety, Alcohol and awful Activities. B is for Bedtime, Baking and Boredom. C is for Childcare and Cooking With Your Coat on. N is for Not Swearing (bloody frustrating) and S is for Soft Play Places, Sniffing Babies' Arses (to see if they've filled their nappies - are there not easier ways of finding out?) and Sex (see also L, for lack thereof).

The flowers doze low in the meadows
And high on the mountains so steep.
My life is a failure, I’m a shitty-ass parent.
Stop fucking with me, please, and sleep.

From Go the Fuck to Sleep by Adam Mansbach

Whenever I'm feeling a bit lacklustre, I just look at my favourite item from the SkyMall catalogue. That's right, friends.. it's the Litter Kwitter 3-Step Cat Toilet Training System  (not just a product, but a system)...!

I just can't stop laughing about the look on the cat's face!  Is it concern? Is it relief? Is it that look that you and I get when we're concentrating on not falling through the toilet seat?

What? You've never had to try and not fall through the hole in the toilet seat? Umm.. you need to drink more.

But I digress. Look at all the kit it comes with? Four seat inserts, some kind of pee/poop target, a DVD and a leaflet.. Simple, right?

I don't think so. No wonder the poor cat looks like that.  It's the cat version of, 'You're fucking joking, right?'

Rock on, mighty cat, rock on.

ps - Don't even get me started on the 'Kitty Kat Loo with Solution' ... with Solution? Is it a freaking puzzle?

pps - I just totally typed the words pee/poop target with a straight face. I've grown as a person today, I'm sure of it.

Unicorns are real. They're just fat and grey and we call them rhinos.

"One-sixteenth of the time people are happy. The rest of the time they’re not. So if you start to avoid all the things that cause unhappiness then maybe there’s a small chance you can improve the ratio in your favor."

"Always look back and ask yourself: “Am I smoking crack?” Every day check the ashtray. Is there crack in there? Delusions will keep you from making progress. Then suddenly, no money, no friends, no  PR. It’s just you on your bed smoking your last piece of crack, hanging onto the lonely panties of the last hooker who left you alone. This is your mind on crack."

Nine Ways to Guarantee Success (and Failure)

You may thank me later for opening your mind and helping you succeed. I'm nice like that.

Hey, stay sexy friends and enjoy your weekend in Bejebus's glorious sunshine, okay?

"I would love to change the world, but they won't give me the source code"- Unknown

Monkey update - we're back to normal, Captain.. all systems working normally. Stupid fucking monkey. It's funny, I got so many amazing comments on my last post. All from women.

Go figure.

Anything interesting going down in your particular emotional hood? No? Yeah, me neither.

I'm just keeping it real. Working for the Man. Keepin' on Keepin' on.

Yep, that's me. Living the dream.

Let's have a talk, friends...

Today I want to talk about PMS/PMT. That sounds like fun, right? Bear with me.. this is just as good for me to type as it is for you to read. Especially if you have a penis. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about.

I suffer from PMT. It's what I'd put on my on Glee t-shirt if I had one. By the way, Glee totally stole that idea from America's Next Top Model. Fo'shiz.

PMT sucks. I know it's not a life-threatening illness. I know it's not a disease. I know there are people in the world who really suffer from said illnesses and diseases. Duh.

For those of you that don't know .. PMT feels like there's a wild monkey riding on your back 24/7 for anywhere from a day to a week. That monkey starts to hit you, constantly, with a plank of wood. Hard. And it's annoying. And it makes you angry. And then because you're angry and annoyed and sad,  it clicks and you realise.. Duh, it's PMT, it's not insanity.

There are studies and books that have suggested that PMT affects the bits of your brain that control anger, hate and fear. The monkey makes sure that every single fear and uncertainty you could possibly think of comes to the surface and are so grossly magnified that it's unreal.

Then you feel humiliated and silly for thinking and worrying and overthinking and overworrying and acting like a bitch.. so you try to desperately function as normal in a world that has no clue that every nerve in your body is on high alert and that things that wouldn't even phase you are suddenly the worst things in the world. The world sees you as you normally are and you look perfectly usual and fine but your brain is .. uh, not handling things so well.

Stupid monkey.

You feel ugly. You feel like you have no friends. Your self esteem sinks lower and lower and lower. You know it'll be better in a few days so you press on and try desperately not to cry, lose your temper or piss off those around you, especially the people around you who love you. These are probably the people in your life who own a penis.

I've said penis twice. I rock.

So you feel like an idiot for letting the stupid fucking monkey control you and everything you think you know or knew or can handle seems really, really foreign and really, really far away. You're alone and there seems to be a screeching monkey doing some uh, really loud screeching in your head.

You feel like a failure.

Then things start to slide back to normal. The monkey disappears and it's like your little Insanity Episode never happened. The good hormones are obviously starting to do their job and your cycle carries on. And you feel better.

You try not to look at the potential path of devastation you've left in your wake. You try really hard not to beat yourself up about it. You try to explain it to those that you might have bowled over with some rather impressive emotional rambling.

You write blog posts about monkeys and penises. And you feel better.

Radio silence from the 2nd of April until today, the 9th of May. I know.. I know.. I rule.

So - what's shakin'?

The boyfriendliest partner and I recently returned from a trip to the Homeland (that's homeland with a capital H as seen on the badge worn on the shoulder of every immgration erm, Homeland Security Officer encountered during our trip. Trust me, I respect their authority. Honest.).

We spent time with my family and took ourselves on a five day road trip through Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Tennessee and Georgia. 1,070 miles later - we'd stayed in five different motels (most good, one not - it's a bad sign when you check in and then drive directly to the local WalMart to buy your own pillows, surely), had five different motel breakfasts (some good, some great - hello, waffles!) and made it to many, many interesting stops along the way.

The most noteable and honestly, the main goal of our road trip... GRACELAND!  You should note that Graceland totally gets more capital letters in my opinion then Homeland Security people. Just sayin'.

I have been to the birthplace and deathplace of Elvis, friends.

I've seen jumpsuits and graves, gold records and Lisa Marie's swingset. I've touched the statue of Elvis at the Memphis Visitor's Centre (who knew that fucker would be alarmed? Learn from my mistakes, those visitor people will know if you touch it. The entire city of Memphis will hear the alarm as you touch it. You'll have to call out an apology to the world if you touch it. Lesson learned: Don't touch it, okay?)

I introduced partnerman to the joys of dining at the Cracker Barrel.. and Chick-fil-A and Steak and Shake and... and... and... Hmm, let's just say there was a lot of eating (or eatin' as my people would say). Mm.. eatin'.

Sorry, where was I?

Oh yes, so we had a fantastic two and a half weeks with little responsibility, lots of laughs and highjinks that you don't really need to read about here.

Uh, if you're my mother reading this, No, I didn't wreck your bright green gaymobile, steal any road signs, driveway reflectors or any small helpless animals. Okay? Okay.

Now the glamour of our holiday is over and we're back in the Monday to Friday hum-drum. Thankfully, the inevitable return to the five day working week was delayed thanks to the royal people getting their marriage on and various other bank holidays.

I guess you could say I'm rested and ready to grind the daily for a while..

Summer ahoy!

Sixteen Military Wives - The Decemberists

I never speak on trains... Headphones in, music on, eyes down, playing solitaire. That's me. That's everyone. Trust me on this - I spend a lot of time on trains.

Just now I was on the DLR with a very large and very confused group of American teenagers and their even more confused adult chaperones / teachers / whathaveyou.

It's not that hard to get to Bank on the DLR.. you just sort of get on and go to the end of the line. But I suppose it's confusing if it's your first time and you're in charge of a zillion teens and their very bad skin (seriously, didn't they pack fucking pore scrub?! Eew.)

I digress.

One of the women looked at me with that look on her eyes and I could just tell... She was going to talk to me.

Now, I'm happy to help. I'm a helper. Shit, call me Helpy McHelperson if you like. But I was faced with a dilemma.

See ... They were American. And I'm American. Which pretty much means after I give them the information they were after [just stay on this train and you'll get to Bank, I promise] they'd recognise my accent and ask me where I'm from.

From there, we'd go on to details of their holiday and how long I've lived here.. it tends to be a very wicked yet predictable spiral.

That's just too much talking. We do not talk to people on trains. We stare at those who do from a safe distance. We watch people who talk on trains with a wary eye while pretending to play Bejeweled. Talking on trains is wrong. Talking on trains in a loud American accent is even wronglier.

Anyway.. It was a tough split second mental debate.

But I'm glad I got them to Bank safely. Go team America.

So four years ago today, I joined this relatively unknown micro-blogging service that we now all know and (most of us except the people who 'just don't get it') love as Twitter.

According to Wikipedia, "A microblog differs from a traditional blog in that its content is typically smaller in both actual and aggregate file size. Microblogs 'allow users to exchange small elements of content such as short sentences, individual images, or video links.'"

I'm not sure if that's how I best utilise Twitter - but it sure is fun to type the words aggregate file size. Aggregate. Aggregate file size.

Over and over again. Aggregate. See? It's like the word purple. Say it over and over and it suddenly becomes the funniest word and/or sound you've ever heard. Right? Purple aggregate. Aggregated purpleness. Go figure.

Totally random tangent (and hey, who doesn't love one of those?) Remember way back in the way back when WebRings were all the rage? You don't see those very much anymore. I guess those were so Web 1.0, huh? Don't know what I'm talking about? Get the hell out, whippersnapper, you're not old enough to be here. And you're probably not old enough to make me a cocktail and light my cigarette. Useless.

Wait. I'm kidding. Come back. Please?

Sorry - where was I? Oh, yes.. Twitter. So I joined Twitter on the 3rd of March 2007, scooping a relatively enviably short username (@ebeth).  I believe I said about four things and didn't look at it again for a year. As a side note, I just went to myfirsttweet.com to look up my very first ever words on the Twitter. Here was the response: "Sorry, something went wrong. This is what I have recorded as your error: Too Many Tweets."

I didn't add the boldness to TOO MANY TWEETS, they did. Do you think they're trying to make a statement? I mean, I know that as of this very moment, I've sent 55,586 tweets into the vast emptyness that is the Internet... but, seriously? Is that too many? Do I have issues? Does the void really need to know that I had a chicken, lettuce, carrot and cucumber salad for lunch today?

Fuck it, I say, 55,586 isn't enough. [update: I'm now on 55,587]

But, I digress. [and I digest, that salad was tasty]

One day in 2008, I decided to give it another go. You know, bark a mighty hello in less than 140 characters. So I did. And then, while in the cat food aisle at the Sainsbury's, I told the Internet that I had a wedgie courtesy of my Victoria's Secret underpants. Some people tweeted me back, we had a conversation and I was hooked.

And that, my darling electric children of the future, was when I finally 'got' Twitter. All it took was a rather fetching pair of incredibly uncomfortable underpants. Well, that, my MacBook, an iPhone and any other internet capable device that I could find.

I've tweeted in classrooms, parks, airplanes, roller skating rinks, cinemas, office buildings, stores, libraries, churches*... you name it. I've told the Internet more stupid things than I can recall.

I met my partner through Twitter (you will note I'm now calling him partner instead of boyfriend... I'm feeling mature today.) In that respect alone, Twitter changed my life. For the very better.

I adopted a kitten through Twitter and I have a Twitter vet (who is the awesomesauciest vet ever because he doesn't flip out if I text him at 10pm asking silly animal questions). My ex has a Twitter lawyer. I've been drunk with more Twitter people than I probably should've and thrown more parties than I ever thought possible. I'm the co-creator of a little thing we like to call Fuckoffee, #ebethchallenges and an awful lot of whatnot, so on and so forth.

I've made friends and kept them. Pretty sweet for throwing 140 characters at people every now and again.

Oh and... I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that I've said jizz an awful lot more than I ever thought I would over the last four years.

Jizz.

Sweet, sweet jizz. It's what brought us all together, electronic friends. Wedgies, vodka and jizz.

I raise my virtual martini glass to you all.. here's to four years down, lord only knows how many more to come!

What's the last good book you read?

Everyone Poops by Taro Gomi

Ask me anything

The boyfriendliest and I have just booked our easter trip to the States.. [That's easter with a lower case E, not Easter as in Bejeebus inspired holiday]

While this will be our second time to the U S of A together, it will be the first time going to my hometown. (and by 'going to' I mean 'enduring')

I'm originally from Atlanta, Georgia (why yes, that is the state above Florida) as you may or may not know. If you've ever been out with me in Atlanta this may be confusing because I constantly tell anyone and everyone that I'm from London - especially if I've been drinking. [And let's face it, until about ten months ago - I was always drinking]

I mean, I am from London - that's where I used to live, although Partytown is where I hang my hat (the one with the big snowflakes on it, complete with ear flaps and braided tassels) these days..

Oh.. uh, where was I? Ah. Yes. I was about to tell you all the nicknames for Atlanta:

• A-Town
• The Big A
• ATL or the ATL
• The Big Peach
• City of Peace
• City in a Forest
• City of Trees
• The Gate City
• The City Too Busy to Hate
• Dogwood City
• Hotlanta
• New York of the South
• Yankee-land of the South
• The Peach State
• The Goober State
• The Cracker State
• The Buzzard State

or as I like to call it... Home.  Or the city formerly known as home - sort of like when Prince was still Prince but you were supposed to call him Symbol.

Remember? Apparently said symbol was made up of the glyph symbols of Mars (male) and Venus (female) combined. Oh and did you know that Mr Symbol's symbol (hang in there, I'm getting to my point) is also essentially identical to an alchemic symbol for soapstone? Mmm, I'm thinking a little more research might've been in order.


"Hey, did you hear that awesome new single by Soapstone? He |20><" *

Sorry. Where was I?


Oh yes - Atlanta!


To make things interesting, while we're there we've decided to take another one of our infamous craaaaazy Americana road trips .. To where, you ask? Memphis, of course! Otherwise known as:

• Barbecued Pork Capital of the World
• Home of the Blues
• Bluff City
• Birthplace of Rock 'n Roll

That's right, motherfuckers.. we're going to Graceland!


* 0|-| '/34|-|, +|-|4+'$ |2i9|-|+ |\|3|2D$. I +074LL'/ $P34|< L337. +|-|4+'$ |-|0+, |219|-|+?

**If the above looks wonky to you - uh, it's not. Pwnd! (As an aside, I always read Pwnd As Pron. Ha - the internet is fun)

*** Oh, and All Your Base was 10 years old yesterday. That makes me feel slightly aged. Well aged, like a fine cheese or a bottle of dusty screw top wine.

xkcd makes me laugh:
http://xkcd.com/859/

Ooh I'm feeling all Thursday-ish at the moment. Have I ever told you that Thursday is my favourite day of the week?

No? Oh. Well, it is.

I like Thursdays because they're the day before Friday. Friday as a favourite day seems a bit cliche, n'est pas? Fridays are everyone else's favourite day. Thursday lovers are few and far between. So few and so far between that as far as I'm aware, I'm the only Thursdayholic that I know of.

And thus ends my importantly not so important essay on My Favourite Day of the Week. You thank me.

I'm working from home today due to various child-centric reasons.. Not that I mind! I had a call earlier from girlchild's school asking me to collect her as she wasn't feeling well. And it's not like you can tell them, 'no, sorry, I have other plans.. ' So off to collect her I went. Thankfully, it's a short walk there and back.

In other news, I'm staring the weekend in the face and daring it to show me something special. You hear me, weekend? Bring. It. On.

Overheard on various trains today..

"The hookers are better in Prague than Amsterdam."

"She thinks her boots are really classy, but I think they're from Primark."

And my favourite...

"No, you take the seat, it doesn't matter that I was here first."

Passive aggressive much, Mr Man?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Random Tube thinking:
- pies are the new cupcakes
- beaver is a very warm animal pelt, if one were making a coat
- why does only one nostril run at a time?
- young children on scooters in public are annoying
- tapas

Discuss.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

In the interest of public safety, if you are a person who enjoys a pasty on the train home in the evenings... stay the hell away from me, m'kay? (Not sure what a pasty is? Check out the offending provider's website here.)

Seriously, those things are like little shortcrust parcels of stink! The offending smell seems to get into every olfactory nook and cranny I own and tips me right over the edge. I walk a fine line of being a good hearted commuter on the best of days (what? at least I admit it), but shove a pasty or some other form of offensive foodstuff near me in a cramped, confined space and I tend to get ... rather cranky.

I watched the man across from me last night sit and unattractively shovel one into his mouth over the course of about ten minutes. The weird thing was that he ate pretty much the entire thing with his eyes closed.

After he was finished, I did check to see if he had some kind of explainatory eye condition.. but nope, apres smelly pasty he was all happy, blinky and wide eyed.

This made me wonder.. am I missing out on the most delicious meal on the planet? I'd find it hard to believe... A mass produced pastry shell filled with various savoury fillings (including massive amounts of E numbers, more sodium than you need in a week and other things you'd probably be better off not knowing about) that's been sitting in a train station display case for Bejebus only knows how long?

Uh, no thanks.

I think I'll stick to my usual evening train diet that consists of air, breathing, playing Scrabble and being impatient. I'm a happy, happy commuter and don't you forget it.

abba or beegees

ABBA. Why is that? Because I'm the fucking Dancing Queen. And my middle name is Fernando.

Ask me anything