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Archive for January, 2007

Cosy

I have been sick all weekend.  It has been quite a challenge to slow all the way down to a crawl and lay on my ass on the sofa, watching Australian Open Tennis (that part has been fun) and force-feed myself liquids and that ghastly ghastly Airborne fizzy crap, and eat even though I am not hungry.  Bartender Dude is a wise old sage about this stuff and I am on bed rest at his command, following his orders.  I have been sleeping more than a NEWBORN.  Let me just outline this for you:

Friday night: in bed at 11 pm
[ELEVEN PM???? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? HOW LAME AM I?]

Saturday: up at 2 pm
[no, I am not making this up]

Saturday: in bed at 7 pm
[HOLY MOTHER OF OUR LORD HAS THE WORLD STOPPED SPINNING?  Also, I had to give up A DINNER PARTY.  Yes.  Bartender Dude got all hotted up — mmm he looked GOOOOOD — and trotted off to The Professor’s for a dinner party with MY FRIENDS WITHOUT ME.  I didn’t even drink anything all day.]

Saturday: back up at 11 pm
[watching more Australian Open tennis, two amazing matches, and reading wedding magazines, and having minor wedding planning meltdowns, to wit: "oh no I can’t afford lobster creme brulee and a dessert buffet and tables draped in saris oh no how can I get out of bed in the morning and show my face to the civilised world woe is meeeeeeeeeeeeee."  Please slap me now, NOW when I can still be reasoned with.]

Saturday: [calling BD frantically "where are you I am bored it is 3 am come home and entertain me" and BD answering via text "go to bed you sick woman I will come home when I am done having a good time and drinking" damn I love that man] back in bed, 4 am

Sunday: up at noon
[THAT’S more like it]

So now it is Sunday evening, and I am sitting in my cosy sitting room, watching the snow fall outside our windows, and eating potato chips and drinking gin (FINALLY I am feeling better) watching yet MORE Australian Open tennis and thinking about calling The Cartographer, since I have cracked the case and figured out what COLOUR SCHEME I want for my wedding because I am such a clever clogs.  (Incidentally, I called The Professor today, to generally get the de-brief on the dinner party I missed plus bore him with wedding details I have been thinking about, and he said — you have succumbed to The Machine.  FIGHT AGAINST THE MACHINE — meaning, the machine of the wedding industry, that sucks you in and forces you to sign over your first born child to catering servitude.  But I said, it is too late.  Save Yourselves!!!!)

Life is good.

Well, unless you are Martina Hingis and getting the shit beat out of you by a small Chinese chic.

Ahhh, snow….Img_0649

Img_0648

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Discipline

Don’t have it, never will.  This is NOT going to be one of those New Year’s Resolution posts.  Sure, I’d like to have the ability to freeze time so I can take naps at work without getting caught and pack more into a day than even I have the ability to dream up (start a PhD! practice three religions at once! craft, sew, knit, bake! work out! clean, iron, mop, dust, shop! become An Expert on Something! organise the books! organise the music! organise the organisational systems!), but I am trying to be realistic.  (Another skill I don’t possess.)  I am trying not to add stress to my already-currently-stressed-out state by upsetting myself over the fact that people who DO NOT have the ability to freeze time somehow manage to squeeze way more into a day than I ever will, because, hey, those people don’t drink and WHO THE HELL WOULD WANT THAT LIFE?

Did I mention that I quit smoking a few days ago?  Like a week ago?  Anybody have any caffeine? Chocolate?  I DON’T EVEN LIKE CHOCOLATE!

(I wonder how long THIS will last.  Hopefully for good, because PINK is the best color for Chanelbabies and lungs.)

Anyway.  I am also going to take time out from my oh-my-god-imposter-syndrome-I-will-be-fired-as-soon-as-they- find-out-I-haven’t-a-clue mental breakdown to give you all some GOOD NEWS.

I am engaged.

YES!  It is a miracle I found someone so laid back that all of the above Type A behavior makes him simply smile and hug me (or, just as frequently, tell me to CHILL THE FUCK OUT WOMAN), but I am not hesitating for a second to wonder how said miracle occurred because I am just going to ENJOY IT and be so happy.  I am so happy.

Here is a picture of the ring.  Which he designed himself.  Because he is a FUCKING ROCKSTAR!

Clusterdomeptringguard

SO!  There is a wedding to plan!  Thousands of details to consider!  Debt to go into! 

I think I need some more stimulants.

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