Murphy and his stupid law

Some may say I'm too cynical, but I say there is a reason. Longer post later, but remember how I was supposed to leave for the US on the 16th (last Monday)? Yeah, remember too how I have a baby who was one on 19th July? Also, recall that I'm an internet addict who needs to read and/or write blog-related things multiple times a day. Welllll...

From last Friday (13th, go figure), there was a pox on our house. A big, nasty case of it. Thank you universe.

My poor daughter spent her first birthday itchy, snotty, and all around miserable. As did her parents.

We were without internet access for over a week and only regained it today after much shouting at internet providers. Yes, internet access 18 hours before we leave for a month. Cheers.

Keep your fingers crossed for us tomorrow when we *may* actually depart. The fates have certainly been against us so far.

Let's be friends

I am a total loser who reads fabulous blogs and steals inspiration from them. I was reading Jonniker's recent post about making friends as an adult, thinking the entire time, "That's me! That's me! I am an uncomfortable freak and seemingly obsessive psycho when it comes to making friends!" For instance, would I actually email Jonniker to say how much I enjoy her writing? Hells no!

I know for me to write about this in the shadow of Jonniker's post it's like a gorilla painting with its own feces as compared to Caravaggio, but I need to take inspiration as it grabs me. Otherwise I'll just sit here looking at a blank screen on Blogger wishing I had something...anything to say.

I didn't have many friends growing up. A quick glance at the limited number of friends on my MySpace (yeah, shut up) page yields almost the entire contingent of my friends throughout my life. That's even with my brother and various bands padding that space. I made no friends in college as I was a commuting student who really didn't have much time for anyone in my classes. I *finally* made friends working at Large Chain Bookstore, most of whom I am still in contact with more than 5 years later.

Once I moved to the UK, my distinct lack of friends and friend-making ability became readily apparent. I made one friend through my job, and that was only because she's a rather forceful, outgoing personality who is hard to not befriend. I adore my other co-workers as well, but they are all in their early to mid 50s, and much as I love them, it would be too strange to hang out with women my Mom's age outside work.

I wouldn't know where to even start on this whole friend-making venture. How do you make new friends outside work when you are an adult? For whatever reason I think of a dating tip I have read on far too many occasions - meet a member of the opposite sex while grocery shopping! Bond over a common love of nearly ripe mangoes or orange juice without pulp! I think of making platonic friendships the same way. What, when I'm shopping for a new pair of jeans do I compliment the woman standing next to me on her stellar taste in denim? Is a friendship really going to be forged over a mutual love of Gap apparel?

The internet, thank fuckery, almost puts this touchy subject to rest for me. I have friends! Real, live, breathing people who think I'm a cool person. They think I'm occasionally clever and witty! No, really they do! I send emails to people in which we have long conversations about babies, music, movies, celebrity gossip and even s-e-x. I won't tell you who I talk about that with though, lest her (or his?) cover as a buttoned up old prude be compromised.

I suppose the internet doesn't completely avoid that uncomfortable will-she-think-I'm-one-step-away-from-wanting-to-wear-her-dirty-panties-on-my-head-if-I-email-her situation. There have been many times that I have sent emails to bloggers I admire greatly, proofreading what I've written 10 times and pausing before I hit "send". I have a great fear of seeming a bit too friendly, which is frankly absolutelyfuckinghilarious given my real life persona of detached, anti-social mute. Yet in initial emails, I'm terrified of coming across as a) simple or b) like I am fully ready for some action.

I think this arises from my girl crush from the previously mentioned Large Chain Bookstore. I blogged about her before, long story short - hot girl, funny, smart and lovely, Pru has a very sapphic-influenced dream about said girl, and as such got all stuttery and nervous around hot, funny, smart, lovely girl. She was surely freaked out by me, since I was doing my best impersonation of a pubescent boy who has never gathered up the nerve to talk to a girl before without his voice cracking or getting a slight boner.

Six years later and I'm still suffering from this paranoia. I sometimes want to spontaneously email a blogger that I've never contacted before, but I don't want to come off as a sociopathic fangirl. I do wonder sometimes how I've managed to make so many wonderful internet friends who don't think I'm a complete freak, unless they are freaks too of course.

If I do ever decide to email you out of the blue to say how much I love your blog and your writing, rest assured that I am boner-free and have the very best of intentions. I don't even want to wear your dirty panties on my head.

A question for the ages

Please help settle an argument The Dude and I have been having for years.

When wrapping a present, do you tape the first fold of the paper to the object being wrapped? Assuming it is not a book or something with a surface which could be damaged that is.

I am a gift wrapping maestro with unparalled abilities to wrap a present with ease and perfection. All of my presents are aesthetically pleasing, regardless of the shape of the object. Give me a box, I'll wrap it like you've never seen before. Give me a hexagonal prism with spikes comign out of it, I'll do shit to that beyond your wildest dreams. That is, if I'm allowed to tape the first segment of the paper to the present.

The Dude's family have still not gotten used to this method, and constantly moan at me that they can't simply pull the present out of its wrapping. Yet, YET, they ask me to wrap presents for them. People, either you're with me or you're against me. Decide.

So, the eternal question remains begging - do you, or don't you do the first tape?

Meet P. Dirt

Have you ever seen the epic David Spade tour de force, Joe Dirt? No? I have. More than once. Oh, and I liked it. Guess what? I also like Dude, Where's My Car?, Saving Silverman, and Billy Madison. As you can see, I have a very sophisticated sense of humour.

P shares my love of low-brow comedy. That is why she has chosen to emulate Joe Dirt's fabulous hairdo.

Joe Dirt:

I present P's hair, what we call "Hommage à Joe Dirt":

Not only is she rocking the mullet like only the spawn of a central Pennsylvanian can, but she rocks the assymetrical mullet. Ah yes...the left side of her head features long flowing locks in the back, but the hair on the opposite side is about an inch and a half shorter. What a trendsetter this kid is.

P wants you to know that her slogan is "Business at the front, party in the back." Read it, digest it, live it.

Other peoples' kids may be annoying, but they sure are funny

So today I'm in my own personal eighth circle of hell, otherwise known as your average toy store. I was trying to manoeuvre P's stroller around the odd dawdling child staring at overpriced Thomas the Tank Engine paraphernalia and lumpy women without an awareness of how much space they and their own strollers take up. I'd already "accidentally" rammed into the heel of a pokey Crocs-wearing woman earlier in the shopping expedition, so bloodlust was at the ready.

Amazingly, two little girls, about 8 years old, lightened my mood. Witness, an exchange including a child that I hope P to be like someday:

Future P (saying to her friend, who was drinking Lucozade - a fizzy energy drink like Gatorade but carbonated): "I once saw a thing on TV where people poured 5 litres of Lucozade on a pig brain and the brain turned to mush."

Friend of Future P: "Nuh uh."

FP: "Did too."

FFP: "Well, that's a pig though and I'm human. It's not the same thing."

FP: "Actually, humans and pigs are related." (glancing at friend's Lucozade) "I'm just telling you what I saw." (shrug)

FFP: (looking at Lucozade incredulously and a touch frightened) "Ok."

Yes, so I want my child to be a fear-mongering know-it-all who scares her friends into submission. I'm surprised you think there is something wrong with that.

Ironically, Future P used the magic word - "mush". The name of my new, as-yet-created baby food blog. Congratulations J for being the lucky winner. Much virtual love and a pat on the head, as promised. Thanks to everyone for your great suggestions, unfortunately for you I have had a long-standing admiration of the word "mush". So there it is. For those who offered their own contributions, they will be very welcome once I get it up (heh) and running. I hope Monday is the day, but it all depends on whether P decides that 4.30am really is the optimum waking time or not. I vote no.