Monday, December 13, 2004
A Weekend of Not Much
When we wrapped up the afternoon meeting on Friday, I was already at my peak with the motivation to pursue the wonderful world of revising for FRCA exam this weekend. Like you would, you know.
In my mind, I was hoping for a rather chilled, energising, full of positive speed reading and more reading, as if reading Parbrook on saturday afternoon is the most wonderful thing in the world, with possibly a hint of excitement over the veg section at ASDA 10 minutes before closing time on Sunday.
10 minutes according to my randomised non controlled trial of a shopping for one study involving one subject with very low power of study, is the mean time needed should a single professional woman desire to go shopping and come out only with the stuff she needs and needs only, minus the things she wants. Honestly, a visit to ASDA on an empty stomach with the whole afternoon to yourself can do a substantial amount of damage to the little black Elle purse.
Little that I know it was going to be somewhat tad bit contrary to the former belief.
***
When Dear Friend arrived on Saturday with a suggestion for an outing at the flick, I didn't know that he meant 3 in a row. I was amazed at my newfound ability to watch The Incredibles, which was absolutely hillarious, rectus- abdominis- clenching, serratus-anterior-jiggling, levator palpabrae paralysing session through and through. Kahkahkahkahkah...to say the least. (Don't be deterred by the goobledegook, they are harmless really).
Followed by the provoking Phantom of the Opera. Like Dear Friend said earlier, Joe Schumacher has succesfully delivered a musical through a film, which is normally difficult to strike a balance , without being too over the top.
I did however reliquish consciousness momentarily , when Christine Daee did the Oh- I want you so much but I am oh- so confused because the phantom is oh- so dark and mysterious and I am oh- so drawn to the phantom but I am oh-so scared, save me save me (ZZZzzzzzzzz) , on that roof top with absolutely no clue that the phantom was hiding behind the pillar while she displayed the embodiment of the above confusion vs desire and mind vs emotion.
Just to bring ourselves back to 21st century, we found ourselves watching the Manchurian Candidate. Well, what can I say, I always get overexcited about films which bring together manipulation of human bodies with the perishing of morality to bring about a feel of awe for the level of intelligence the Americans (could potentially) have. Period. These 3 doses of well selected films should see me well through some difficult weeks ahead.
Dear Friend was lucky to have found himself a patch of visible carpet after much pushing and stacking piles of books and paperwork to squeeze himself into his sleeping bag in the living room and to rest his head for the night. I too detest that blue sofa which so far had not done much justice to either comfort or space in this rather deceivingly spacious room.
In the night, after I have done my ritual of 2 chapter per night of Tony hawks-Round Ireland With A Fridge, I was hoping Dear Friend would find comfort on the floor. Little that I know about his little adventour in the little world of my living room as I went into a slumber.
Allegedly, Dear Friend found himself brushing his teeth in the living room. Yes, legs and other organs below the waistline do funny odyssey of it's own course when one's mouth is full of flourided bubbles. I shall be diplomatic and say that he was snooping for a Nokia phone charger, when, lo and behold he found one stuck onto one of the sockets on my 'Surgemaster'. As he was bending over to have a closer look at the charger, some funny cosmic rearrangement of the solar system has, at that particular time, caused, his ability to contain the ever lavishly flourishing bubbles he's produced in his mouth to go into a spasm, due to vigorous act of brushing and lack of ability for the designer of my flat to design a sink in my living room for Dear Friend to spit into.
A splat fell to the ground and somehow, the carpet was saved, but not my baby blue cute little socks, well the left side one at least. In sheer terror Dear Friend confessed that panick strickened, he rushed to the bathroom and performed the initial contingency act of covering the evidence. So he washed it. Very thoughtfully.
Now he wanted to dry it. Much to his dismay, the heater had seized to retain it's ability to either convect, conduct or radiate any heat as it's functioning on a rather strictly controlled timer which was located in a building in one of the rooms which, to get to it, you have to make yourself tiny and imagine that you are doing a i-can-smell-the-carrot scuttling through a rabbit hole.
So being a man that he is, Dear Friend adamantly stuck to his idea of heat and put on the stove and left my baby blue cute little left sock on the stove metal. You may guess what happened after that. Yes , the baby blue left sock was later found to have changed colour to baby blue with rather fascinating hues of yellow and amber bridging into rusty brown which had adopted rather marvellous pattern of a swivel. Bless your little heart Dear Friend.
****
His rather incomprehensible act of discordant may have been brought about by my obsession for new sets of socks earlier in the day when we had the pleasure of gaining a parking space near the infamous Freshney Place.(We'd be lucky to get a parking space in there). My feet had over the years manage to practice poke-a-hole game to perfection so much so that buying socks is almost like buying a bottle of shampoo. Having said that this baby blue socks did not even have a premature hole or even a holism.
We abandoned the idea of catching mid morning latte/mocha at Starbucks as we came to realize that our friend The Goddess is turning 24 on Monday and urgent brainstorming was needed to arise to an agreement as to what to get her for her birthday. After some head shakings and noddings later we found something that I was delighted to name it a genious discovery.
We found a poncho for her. Now this poncho mallarkey is very in at the mo. You would see one in 3 female gender roaming the surface of Grimsby donning it with much sophistication. This one is not an ordinary one, firstly it's from Tie Rack, secondly it's lambswool so The Goddess will feel warm in it, thirdly, as The Goddess is always modest when it comes to adorning self, this is going to be perfect when she wants to glam up a tight top with a pair of faded jeans. Very sheek, little effort but a big whallop of impact.
Above all that , it's listed under the united colours of safety -black with meticulously handsewn sequins which was quite an elaboration at the front but as it 's been ramified into a corner with the reticularing extensions of shoots from the main flower bed carressing the midrif as it sits to sculpt the waistline, this I still think is still understated. Oh so excited. Please love it as much as I do.
As far as the weekend is concerned, we all know it's never long enough, but it's what you make of it that matters and as for when a favour/gift/offering is given in any shape or form, little did I realize how much contentment it could bring to the giver when the got given passes it on.
Happy Birthday The Goddess.
In my mind, I was hoping for a rather chilled, energising, full of positive speed reading and more reading, as if reading Parbrook on saturday afternoon is the most wonderful thing in the world, with possibly a hint of excitement over the veg section at ASDA 10 minutes before closing time on Sunday.
10 minutes according to my randomised non controlled trial of a shopping for one study involving one subject with very low power of study, is the mean time needed should a single professional woman desire to go shopping and come out only with the stuff she needs and needs only, minus the things she wants. Honestly, a visit to ASDA on an empty stomach with the whole afternoon to yourself can do a substantial amount of damage to the little black Elle purse.
Little that I know it was going to be somewhat tad bit contrary to the former belief.
***
When Dear Friend arrived on Saturday with a suggestion for an outing at the flick, I didn't know that he meant 3 in a row. I was amazed at my newfound ability to watch The Incredibles, which was absolutely hillarious, rectus- abdominis- clenching, serratus-anterior-jiggling, levator palpabrae paralysing session through and through. Kahkahkahkahkah...to say the least. (Don't be deterred by the goobledegook, they are harmless really).
Followed by the provoking Phantom of the Opera. Like Dear Friend said earlier, Joe Schumacher has succesfully delivered a musical through a film, which is normally difficult to strike a balance , without being too over the top.
I did however reliquish consciousness momentarily , when Christine Daee did the Oh- I want you so much but I am oh- so confused because the phantom is oh- so dark and mysterious and I am oh- so drawn to the phantom but I am oh-so scared, save me save me (ZZZzzzzzzzz) , on that roof top with absolutely no clue that the phantom was hiding behind the pillar while she displayed the embodiment of the above confusion vs desire and mind vs emotion.
Just to bring ourselves back to 21st century, we found ourselves watching the Manchurian Candidate. Well, what can I say, I always get overexcited about films which bring together manipulation of human bodies with the perishing of morality to bring about a feel of awe for the level of intelligence the Americans (could potentially) have. Period. These 3 doses of well selected films should see me well through some difficult weeks ahead.
Dear Friend was lucky to have found himself a patch of visible carpet after much pushing and stacking piles of books and paperwork to squeeze himself into his sleeping bag in the living room and to rest his head for the night. I too detest that blue sofa which so far had not done much justice to either comfort or space in this rather deceivingly spacious room.
In the night, after I have done my ritual of 2 chapter per night of Tony hawks-Round Ireland With A Fridge, I was hoping Dear Friend would find comfort on the floor. Little that I know about his little adventour in the little world of my living room as I went into a slumber.
Allegedly, Dear Friend found himself brushing his teeth in the living room. Yes, legs and other organs below the waistline do funny odyssey of it's own course when one's mouth is full of flourided bubbles. I shall be diplomatic and say that he was snooping for a Nokia phone charger, when, lo and behold he found one stuck onto one of the sockets on my 'Surgemaster'. As he was bending over to have a closer look at the charger, some funny cosmic rearrangement of the solar system has, at that particular time, caused, his ability to contain the ever lavishly flourishing bubbles he's produced in his mouth to go into a spasm, due to vigorous act of brushing and lack of ability for the designer of my flat to design a sink in my living room for Dear Friend to spit into.
A splat fell to the ground and somehow, the carpet was saved, but not my baby blue cute little socks, well the left side one at least. In sheer terror Dear Friend confessed that panick strickened, he rushed to the bathroom and performed the initial contingency act of covering the evidence. So he washed it. Very thoughtfully.
Now he wanted to dry it. Much to his dismay, the heater had seized to retain it's ability to either convect, conduct or radiate any heat as it's functioning on a rather strictly controlled timer which was located in a building in one of the rooms which, to get to it, you have to make yourself tiny and imagine that you are doing a i-can-smell-the-carrot scuttling through a rabbit hole.
So being a man that he is, Dear Friend adamantly stuck to his idea of heat and put on the stove and left my baby blue cute little left sock on the stove metal. You may guess what happened after that. Yes , the baby blue left sock was later found to have changed colour to baby blue with rather fascinating hues of yellow and amber bridging into rusty brown which had adopted rather marvellous pattern of a swivel. Bless your little heart Dear Friend.
****
His rather incomprehensible act of discordant may have been brought about by my obsession for new sets of socks earlier in the day when we had the pleasure of gaining a parking space near the infamous Freshney Place.(We'd be lucky to get a parking space in there). My feet had over the years manage to practice poke-a-hole game to perfection so much so that buying socks is almost like buying a bottle of shampoo. Having said that this baby blue socks did not even have a premature hole or even a holism.
We abandoned the idea of catching mid morning latte/mocha at Starbucks as we came to realize that our friend The Goddess is turning 24 on Monday and urgent brainstorming was needed to arise to an agreement as to what to get her for her birthday. After some head shakings and noddings later we found something that I was delighted to name it a genious discovery.
We found a poncho for her. Now this poncho mallarkey is very in at the mo. You would see one in 3 female gender roaming the surface of Grimsby donning it with much sophistication. This one is not an ordinary one, firstly it's from Tie Rack, secondly it's lambswool so The Goddess will feel warm in it, thirdly, as The Goddess is always modest when it comes to adorning self, this is going to be perfect when she wants to glam up a tight top with a pair of faded jeans. Very sheek, little effort but a big whallop of impact.
Above all that , it's listed under the united colours of safety -black with meticulously handsewn sequins which was quite an elaboration at the front but as it 's been ramified into a corner with the reticularing extensions of shoots from the main flower bed carressing the midrif as it sits to sculpt the waistline, this I still think is still understated. Oh so excited. Please love it as much as I do.
As far as the weekend is concerned, we all know it's never long enough, but it's what you make of it that matters and as for when a favour/gift/offering is given in any shape or form, little did I realize how much contentment it could bring to the giver when the got given passes it on.
Happy Birthday The Goddess.
