Strings and Flowers
apparently, she's lost the plot
19 May 2010 @ 06:02 pm
29 June 2009 @ 11:43 pm
I mean, i never liked MJ at all. I made fun of him all the time. He started getting all self obsessed and messianic. When he sang 'Earth song' at some music awards (was it the Brit awards?) he tried to be God and got all the African children to lie at his feet and worship him. We all laughed and cheered as Jarvis Cocker (of Pulp) jumped up on stage, and interrupted his self glorifying narcissism and made lewd gestures at the camera and got shoved off stage.
I scolded Bubu relentlessly when she said she was going to see him live. He was a pervy reject! He fell out with his entire family, he was accused of sex scandals, he made a 'sexy' video with him and his then wife, Lisa-Marie, but it looked like they were brother and sister. (I also scolded Pinny for liking Madonna - as much as i really don't like her, i shall be sorry when she goes too).
Gaah! His album, History, was spelt HIStory, which was all about him and he was like King Nebuchadnezzar who built a gargantuan statue of himself for the masses to bow down to. And he wore those military jackets with loads of little buttons and medals. Who gave them to him? What did he deserve? And his son.. is called Prince Michael! Talk about illusions of grandeur! And he bought the Beatles catalogue, outbidding Paul McCartney for it so that even Sir Paul doesn't get any money when other people play his songs! GAAAH!!!
But DAMN! That boy could dance, and he could sing. He could sing so well. And his songs were catchy and the soundtrack to our lives. He was the butt of so many a joke and i still thank 'the 'children and the children's children' whenever i have the opportunity. He was a great entertainer, a child star who wasn't chosen from a reality TV talent show for his lustrous hair and toned belly and needed no voice and dance lessons. I started to like him a wee bit more when my sister told me he was cool, but only before he sold out (i.e. Thriller and before). she lent me Off the Wall and i liked it a lot. I named my mouse 'Ben' because the Jackson Five were really cool and i loved disco.
When MJ died, i was stunned and watched all his videos on the TMF channel. I saw how, in the 70s he wore top to toe silver and couldn't dance (but kicked a bit and alluded to a few crotch grabs). Then as the Beat it and Thriller videos came out he had developed a style of dance completely unique to him which i adored. It had some 80s Flashdance elements but mostly he was in a league of his own. As the albums and decades went by he began to try to save the world with his music and he stopped dancing in his videos and started spreading his arms, Jesus-like, to the adoring crowds, ironically singing about Black and White, wearing his black power arm bands and looking more fair than ever. But i forgave him.
Sometimes, it takes a death to really appreciate what you've lost.
I suppose it's like when Charles Xavier died and Magneto was gutted. When your enemy dies, it's an end of an era. I had already begun to pity him when he had to sell his Neverland Ranch to keep the creditors at bay. I cut him alot more slack as i grew older and saw that he was a tortured man who probably loved the young boys like.... King Saul loved David and just wanted a good old fashioned cuddle. I don't know. He was so weak and disfigured, i was so pleased to see him announce his tour dates in London. I wanted him to succeed again.
Z: I'm really sad that MJ died
Dim: The 80s are dead.
Z: ??! Is that all you can say??
Dim: Well, to be honest i've got alot more on my mind. I was more distraught when Pink Floyd died.
grrrr.
Rest in Peace.
I scolded Bubu relentlessly when she said she was going to see him live. He was a pervy reject! He fell out with his entire family, he was accused of sex scandals, he made a 'sexy' video with him and his then wife, Lisa-Marie, but it looked like they were brother and sister. (I also scolded Pinny for liking Madonna - as much as i really don't like her, i shall be sorry when she goes too).
Gaah! His album, History, was spelt HIStory, which was all about him and he was like King Nebuchadnezzar who built a gargantuan statue of himself for the masses to bow down to. And he wore those military jackets with loads of little buttons and medals. Who gave them to him? What did he deserve? And his son.. is called Prince Michael! Talk about illusions of grandeur! And he bought the Beatles catalogue, outbidding Paul McCartney for it so that even Sir Paul doesn't get any money when other people play his songs! GAAAH!!!
But DAMN! That boy could dance, and he could sing. He could sing so well. And his songs were catchy and the soundtrack to our lives. He was the butt of so many a joke and i still thank 'the 'children and the children's children' whenever i have the opportunity. He was a great entertainer, a child star who wasn't chosen from a reality TV talent show for his lustrous hair and toned belly and needed no voice and dance lessons. I started to like him a wee bit more when my sister told me he was cool, but only before he sold out (i.e. Thriller and before). she lent me Off the Wall and i liked it a lot. I named my mouse 'Ben' because the Jackson Five were really cool and i loved disco.
When MJ died, i was stunned and watched all his videos on the TMF channel. I saw how, in the 70s he wore top to toe silver and couldn't dance (but kicked a bit and alluded to a few crotch grabs). Then as the Beat it and Thriller videos came out he had developed a style of dance completely unique to him which i adored. It had some 80s Flashdance elements but mostly he was in a league of his own. As the albums and decades went by he began to try to save the world with his music and he stopped dancing in his videos and started spreading his arms, Jesus-like, to the adoring crowds, ironically singing about Black and White, wearing his black power arm bands and looking more fair than ever. But i forgave him.
Sometimes, it takes a death to really appreciate what you've lost.
I suppose it's like when Charles Xavier died and Magneto was gutted. When your enemy dies, it's an end of an era. I had already begun to pity him when he had to sell his Neverland Ranch to keep the creditors at bay. I cut him alot more slack as i grew older and saw that he was a tortured man who probably loved the young boys like.... King Saul loved David and just wanted a good old fashioned cuddle. I don't know. He was so weak and disfigured, i was so pleased to see him announce his tour dates in London. I wanted him to succeed again.
Z: I'm really sad that MJ died
Dim: The 80s are dead.
Z: ??! Is that all you can say??
Dim: Well, to be honest i've got alot more on my mind. I was more distraught when Pink Floyd died.
grrrr.
Rest in Peace.
18 June 2009 @ 09:19 am
Dawn & Paraic’s WeddingFacebook | Fotissima Photography's notes
We awoke in our respective houses at six a.m. to the sound of the lashing (splish splashing in a Galway fashion even) rain against the windows…was Dawn right when she predicted rain on her wedding day? A native of Singapore, Dawn was resigned to the fact that having her wedding in Ireland meant certain downpour. She was willing to accept this, in return for having her fairytale day at a beautiful castle in the country of her husband-to-be.
It wasn’t just any old rain either, because, as you all know, we have probably every variation and type of rain here in Ireland, a small price to pay for all this green we tell ourselves as consolation. Yeah. Right. It wasn’t a fine mist or a drizzle either. This was WET rain, the kind that soaks you as you dash from the car to your front door, and soak us it did as we loaded up the gear…at least we weren’t likely to forget the umbrellas today anyway. We learned later that the Singaporean visitors marveled at the hailstones on the eve of the wedding, calling each other over to the windows to watch them as they pelted down and bounced around the castle grounds.
So we made our “rain plan” as we journeyed north towards Sligo. Having a castle as a backdrop for the photos was certainly a good start and we were glad we had advised Dawn & Paraic to have umbrellas at the ready for the bridal party, just in case. Sure, umbrellas can make a cool accessory we told ourselves as we got closer to Markree Castle. And Ooooo the majestic entrance way to the castle would provide perfect shelter, no matter what the weather, we agreed. Ahh let it rain. See if we cared.
The castle looked even better in reality than the photos we had seen on the website. But hey, was that a teeny weeny bit of blue up there in the sky towards the Atlantic amidst the gloom? Let’s check out the place for photo potential and have the breakfast (nothing like a good traditional full Irish before a day of lugging heavy cameras around we say) before we allow ourselves to hope. Yes, it was definitely blue…oh and the occasional white fluffy cloud too, who said it’s always raining in Ireland. It turned into a glorious day ( granted our Singaporean friends felt a bitter sting in the strong breeze but we knew it could have been worse, much worse) apart from the odd shower, for which those umbrellas proved awful handy.
Now. We have to tell you a little bit about this couple. Organisation. Unreal. We have never seen the likes of the spreadsheets Paraic sent us detailing every minute detail of the day and how he envisioned it would unfold. O.K. This is where we hold our hands up and say. Yes. we were sceptical. We haven’t yet seen a wedding where everything transpires as planned. Inevitably something will happen to throw the schedule out the window. Lots of brides now want to actually break the tradition of keeping their man waiting a few minutes at the altar…but find when they pull up in their fancy car that the church is in fact EMPTY and they are forced to doing a few laps of the area in order to have a congregation to make their grand entrance to. We sat Dawn & Paraic down a few days before the wedding to tell them about this apparently typical Irish reluctance on the part of wedding guests to arrive in time at the church ( applying the unwritten “sure the bride will be late I’ve loads of time to get ready” rule) on time. We were afraid that their day would become stressful for them if it departed from the timetable. We pointed out all the times where there may be circumstances beyond their control that could delay them. They listened to us patiently (as they ALL do, not really actually BELIEVING that it is going to happen to them, until we are proved right the morning of the wedding when the bride is an hour late getting into her dress because one of her bridesmaids wasn’t happy with her OWN hair and make-up and refuses to leave the house until it is redone...or because the dress didn’t fit since she had lost a few extra pounds in the couple of weeks before the wedding so somebody has to locate a needle and thread and stitch her into the gown there and then. The list goes on…! ). So they listened and took the necessary precautions to ensure that the schedule was adhered to. We weren’t convinced. We admit it. However. WE WERE WRONG! That doesn’t happen too often we can tell you!! ;-)
Yes. We were VERY wrong. This couple had everything planned so meticulously and were surrounded by a team of people to help them, that the whole day went like CLOCKWORK. We raised an eyebrow when the bride walked up the aisle ON TIME to FULL congregation and when we finished taking their requested family shots at the church at 3.10 pm (as Paraic said we would) we took our hats off. There is indeed a first time for everything. Don’t get us wrong. It wasn’t a restrictive schedule. The day flowed beautifully. It’s just that everybody knew what was expected of them and they all performed accordingly. For example-cravattes. Who knows how to tie them properly? (Aahh if we had a euro for every time we were asked to do one!) With one Best Man and four Groomsmen Paraic had anticipated this, so sending them all a link to a YouTube video on the subject. Now, boys will still be boys. Paraic had anticipated this too, since after 20 seconds of the video they were all completely LOST, and he was able to step in and tie them all efficiently-and with the appropriate amount of “ruffle’ too. Impressed.
We especially enjoyed this wedding for many reasons, not least because the groom is the brother of a mutual friend of ours and we wanted to do her proud. We loved the fact that it was the meeting of two cultures. We loved that the Bride’s father referred to this in his speech-east and west, never the twain shall meet. We loved the traditional Chinese tea ceremony. We loved the vibrant colours and warm personalities of the Singaporeans. We loved that Boo Boo, one of the Bridesmaids, felt she didn’t want to conform to wearing the Bridesmaid’s dress, so she didn’t, and that was cool with the Bride. We loved the castle. We even loved the spreadsheets-eventually! Thanks Dawn. Thanks Paraic. We loved it...and you're going to LOVE the photos.
11 June 2009 @ 08:49 am
Finally, a pic of our wedding wine which we got from Clem's parents! I knew that Clem would come in useful one of these days...
10 June 2009 @ 02:08 pm
When see this i feel just like the red haired monster. I join the grown-ups (growns-up?) and play by the rules, and then i freak out and go nuts and then they stare at me and shake their heads disapprovingly and i skulk away and try to hide under a rock, thinking 'I wish i never said that'.
My life is exactly like that. I think a boss from ages past told me that 'when you make a good point and then follow it with a joke they tend to forget the point and remember the joke'. That's probably bad for business. But the fun that could be had!
What happened in the end? The monster made his point and they told him to scat. It bodes not well..
02 June 2009 @ 08:32 pm
ROLLERBLADE! At all!
It was our attempt to do more coupley stuff, so we spent the weekend walking in the hills, i joined him at the driving range, we played badminton and then we got a pair of his and hers roller blades. We thought we could blade together by the beach, hand in hand, possibly an ice cream in the other.
Not so.
Roller blading.. isn't even a bit like skiing, which i can sort of do in a roundabout kind of way. I tried to snow plough down the slight incline of our local park. it got all gritty and it was like skiing on hard ice. WE HATES IT. Pman was sceptical of my genius of an idea. He knew that i hated ice skating, though i convinced him that it was because i didn't like going around in circles with chavs waiting to skate over my fingers.
It's just so hard. He picked it up.. sort of ok. I mean he could move around and hold me as i stumbled around. I reminded myself of the cockroach monster in 'Men in Black' where rigour mortis prevented the alien from moving the corpse it inhabited.
This is such an expensive mistake. Despite being decked out in the ironically 'named 'No Fear' knee and wrist guards, i fell spectacularly and i shall have beautiful bruises on my arse and my elbow.
Why did i even try? Didn't i remember the first time![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
superen brought her blades over to my house when we were 14 and i hated it and she made me roll over off the little step onto my driveway and i was so afraid i wanted to cry? Couldn't i hear nky yelling at me 'Move your feet!' when we were ice skating at 12 and i fell over 4 times but still didn't manage to move?
Another thing i can't do is play TOUCH RUGBY! I was duped into it. We had a 4 day weekend and the sun was finally shining. I was drunk on happiness, vitamin d and love (we are officially in the "honeymoon period", so forgive the gushing). I offered to honour my promise made in Jan and Pman actually agreed to take me to his rugby practise.
It was for the Aberdeenshire team, instead of the work group comprising people i already knew. I was terrified when i found that out. There they were- a bunch of fit young people who liked the sport. I chose to shut up and keep any anti rugby jokes to myself. We ran a lap around the pitch and joined them. They stared at me and judged me as i was the wife of their long time team mate whom they had never met before. We started off with some fun warm ups - rather like PE at school. Then we did some drills of passing balls to each other and running here and there which was also fun. That was also like PE and i was burning calories. Then they started playing a game.
I mean, how do you play rugby? I had no idea of the rules, and they told me to stay in the wing, which i gratefully did. I stayed in the wing, and i 'kept the line' and ran up and down the field as they were playing with each other. When the ball came i hid. Once i touched someone unintentionally and they told me to stop touching people and mark the other guy in the wing. Pman was totally into it. He was 'communicating' with the others and telling people where to go and saying things like 'I HAVE!'
I HAVE what?
AIDS?
Sweets?
Balls?
Again, with most unfortunate sports experiences, i remember playing basketball in school withsuperen and me yelling at everyone to avoid me and not pass any ball to me and then throwing any ball at her or munologue not caring which side they were on. I mean, they didn't even wear bibs and i didn't recognise anyone and then they started switching positions and running off for 'subs' and then changing sides! i had no chance!
Pman is so annoying. He's the sort who thinks that anyone can do anything if they practise. So guess what? I can't give up on roller blading just yet. As for touch rugby.. i wouldn't mind going again if i could avoid the games at the end. Until the day.
It was our attempt to do more coupley stuff, so we spent the weekend walking in the hills, i joined him at the driving range, we played badminton and then we got a pair of his and hers roller blades. We thought we could blade together by the beach, hand in hand, possibly an ice cream in the other.
Not so.
Roller blading.. isn't even a bit like skiing, which i can sort of do in a roundabout kind of way. I tried to snow plough down the slight incline of our local park. it got all gritty and it was like skiing on hard ice. WE HATES IT. Pman was sceptical of my genius of an idea. He knew that i hated ice skating, though i convinced him that it was because i didn't like going around in circles with chavs waiting to skate over my fingers.
It's just so hard. He picked it up.. sort of ok. I mean he could move around and hold me as i stumbled around. I reminded myself of the cockroach monster in 'Men in Black' where rigour mortis prevented the alien from moving the corpse it inhabited.
This is such an expensive mistake. Despite being decked out in the ironically 'named 'No Fear' knee and wrist guards, i fell spectacularly and i shall have beautiful bruises on my arse and my elbow.
Why did i even try? Didn't i remember the first time
superen brought her blades over to my house when we were 14 and i hated it and she made me roll over off the little step onto my driveway and i was so afraid i wanted to cry? Couldn't i hear nky yelling at me 'Move your feet!' when we were ice skating at 12 and i fell over 4 times but still didn't manage to move? Another thing i can't do is play TOUCH RUGBY! I was duped into it. We had a 4 day weekend and the sun was finally shining. I was drunk on happiness, vitamin d and love (we are officially in the "honeymoon period", so forgive the gushing). I offered to honour my promise made in Jan and Pman actually agreed to take me to his rugby practise.
It was for the Aberdeenshire team, instead of the work group comprising people i already knew. I was terrified when i found that out. There they were- a bunch of fit young people who liked the sport. I chose to shut up and keep any anti rugby jokes to myself. We ran a lap around the pitch and joined them. They stared at me and judged me as i was the wife of their long time team mate whom they had never met before. We started off with some fun warm ups - rather like PE at school. Then we did some drills of passing balls to each other and running here and there which was also fun. That was also like PE and i was burning calories. Then they started playing a game.
I mean, how do you play rugby? I had no idea of the rules, and they told me to stay in the wing, which i gratefully did. I stayed in the wing, and i 'kept the line' and ran up and down the field as they were playing with each other. When the ball came i hid. Once i touched someone unintentionally and they told me to stop touching people and mark the other guy in the wing. Pman was totally into it. He was 'communicating' with the others and telling people where to go and saying things like 'I HAVE!'
I HAVE what?
AIDS?
Sweets?
Balls?
Again, with most unfortunate sports experiences, i remember playing basketball in school with
superen and me yelling at everyone to avoid me and not pass any ball to me and then throwing any ball at her or munologue not caring which side they were on. I mean, they didn't even wear bibs and i didn't recognise anyone and then they started switching positions and running off for 'subs' and then changing sides! i had no chance!Pman is so annoying. He's the sort who thinks that anyone can do anything if they practise. So guess what? I can't give up on roller blading just yet. As for touch rugby.. i wouldn't mind going again if i could avoid the games at the end. Until the day.
01 June 2009 @ 03:58 pm
When your man untangles your wool and distracts the kitten to protect you and the cabled jumper when you're knitting.
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25 May 2009 @ 04:56 pm
I hate it when people are fake. I also hate it when they refuse to give you a real compliment, but instead say something which is a thinly veiled insult. I know a few people who would throw out these fake compliments and maybe it's a function of being tactful or diplomatic but i honestly hate those fake people. Say nothing if you can't be real!
A few examples
Compliment: You look great!
Veiled Insult: You seem so happy in yourself! I'm glad.
Compliment: Your new boyfriend is so cute!
Veiled Insult: You guys look so good together!
Compliment: WOW! That looks so fun. I wish i could've joined you!
Veiled Insult: Your pictures look like you had fun!
Compliment: Great job on this piece of work.
Veiled Insult: It looks like you worked hard on this piece. Thanks.
Compliment: OMG that dress looks AMAZING on you! Did it cost much?
Veiled Insult: Wow, it looks like you spent a lot on your dress.
Compliment: I enjoyed the lovely meal. It was yummy.
Veiled Insult: Thanks for putting in the effort to cook for me.
Other types of 'fake speak' i despise:
Real: Actually, i don't agree with you. But that's ok. I accept your views as you're my friend.
Fake: That's.... interesting. I'll think about it.
Real: Dude, you're offending me. That's not true at all.
Fake: Oh i don't mind at all. It's just, odd.
Any other examples?
A few examples
Compliment: You look great!
Veiled Insult: You seem so happy in yourself! I'm glad.
Compliment: Your new boyfriend is so cute!
Veiled Insult: You guys look so good together!
Compliment: WOW! That looks so fun. I wish i could've joined you!
Veiled Insult: Your pictures look like you had fun!
Compliment: Great job on this piece of work.
Veiled Insult: It looks like you worked hard on this piece. Thanks.
Compliment: OMG that dress looks AMAZING on you! Did it cost much?
Veiled Insult: Wow, it looks like you spent a lot on your dress.
Compliment: I enjoyed the lovely meal. It was yummy.
Veiled Insult: Thanks for putting in the effort to cook for me.
Other types of 'fake speak' i despise:
Real: Actually, i don't agree with you. But that's ok. I accept your views as you're my friend.
Fake: That's.... interesting. I'll think about it.
Real: Dude, you're offending me. That's not true at all.
Fake: Oh i don't mind at all. It's just, odd.
Any other examples?
20 May 2009 @ 10:11 am
Happy birthday Bubu!!
The great thing about having a Groomsmen with a camera is that he gets all the exclusive shots, and from the front row! Enjoy Ian's pics!!
i TOLD you that there was a lot of platonic kissing going on...
Dance Dance Dance Dance. Was this to McGuyver?
Pinny, you say you didn't remember doing the dance off? Well, here's the evidence
Breakdancing looks so much cooler in video!(Observe nat in the background)
Munster and Yingtze
I banned the groomsmen from doing pressups on the dancefloor. But Doug wasn't a groomsman! GAAH!
Drunken dream team. I must've been in bed by then, consumating the marriage and all. haha
The great thing about having a Groomsmen with a camera is that he gets all the exclusive shots, and from the front row! Enjoy Ian's pics!!
i TOLD you that there was a lot of platonic kissing going on...
Dance Dance Dance Dance. Was this to McGuyver?
Pinny, you say you didn't remember doing the dance off? Well, here's the evidence
Breakdancing looks so much cooler in video!(Observe nat in the background)
Munster and Yingtze
I banned the groomsmen from doing pressups on the dancefloor. But Doug wasn't a groomsman! GAAH!
Drunken dream team. I must've been in bed by then, consumating the marriage and all. haha
19 May 2009 @ 04:44 pm
OMG i married a leprechaun
Just did it!
Our wedding cake. Inhabitants were named George and Sammy - after our respective 1st fishes.
19 May 2009 @ 07:24 am
We still can't believe we're married! It's not that different, except everything is slightly sweeter, more loving, just better. It's like buying a HDTV and then watching your favourite film and everything is just clearer by that little bit. Now that kitty is back from the cattery i feel so happy and complete. The bliss can start now. She is purring on my lap and i really need to get out these words now before they become over thought and shallow.
I want to say that i felt like Obama. I felt like the president on official business. I was surrounded by an efficient team, who read my desires and made sure everything was in its place for me me me! It was breathtaking how much love surrounded me and i am so grateful to my friends who did so much. Obviously the day is over so i am back to normal and i am busy thanking and grovelling - where i belong really, as i am rubbish as dictatorship.
Besides the action of getting married and the groom whom i love, let's discuss the logistics of the day and the people who worked together to make it happen.
The team was:
The Chief Bridesmaid, akapinnards: Her role was rather like a Wormtongue to my King Theoden, the Alastair Campbell to my Tony Blair, or the Prada to my Devil. She was meant to stand by me and whisper advice in my ear. Her job was to anticipate my wants, take me to the loo, fetch me drinks, and just be my right hand man. She did her job superbly. As all good assistants did, she disappeared when i didn't need her, but looked for me and found me at regular intervals. She makes light of her contribution on her blog, but her 'shining red bull ' moment was when she anticipated my needs and brought me a glass of energy drink just at the point before i was going to collapse (as we all know, Red bull after the collapsing moment is not effective). It was because of her that i was able to enjoy the night and stay up till 3. The castle was exclusively ours so yes, the partying went up till breakfast time, i was informed.
Bubu akasuperen, or the 'Bridesmaid without portfolio'. This meant that Bubu was in the bridal party without a sexy dress, which i suspect is what she wanted. Both she and Pinny were there every day for one year leading up to the wedding, discussing ideas, proof reading documents, and offering advice. Before the wedding, she and Pinny stayed with my family and she ran errands with Pman and Pinny and just made everything so easy and convenient. On the wedding day itself, my mother decided to boss her around and while the bridesmaids were indisposed with their make-up (applied by the talented and wonderful Lucinda), Bubu was holding the fort. Between carrying luggage and pouring champagne she practised my vows with me many many times. During the photo shoot she carried shawls and bags, and then held them behind her back when i insisted that she join in. My friendship with Bubu began when we were 8 and she was known as 'Karen'. When i first decided to call her Bubu, we were 9 and she hated the name and yelled at me when i used it in public. Ironic then, when she introduced her self as 'Bubu' during her bridesmaids speech she gave with Pinny! Folks - perseverance pays off!
( There's more )
Typical Irish reserve and class
There is a lot more to say, but i'll figure it out when more photos become available. Love you all!
I want to say that i felt like Obama. I felt like the president on official business. I was surrounded by an efficient team, who read my desires and made sure everything was in its place for me me me! It was breathtaking how much love surrounded me and i am so grateful to my friends who did so much. Obviously the day is over so i am back to normal and i am busy thanking and grovelling - where i belong really, as i am rubbish as dictatorship.
Besides the action of getting married and the groom whom i love, let's discuss the logistics of the day and the people who worked together to make it happen.
The team was:
The Chief Bridesmaid, aka
pinnards: Her role was rather like a Wormtongue to my King Theoden, the Alastair Campbell to my Tony Blair, or the Prada to my Devil. She was meant to stand by me and whisper advice in my ear. Her job was to anticipate my wants, take me to the loo, fetch me drinks, and just be my right hand man. She did her job superbly. As all good assistants did, she disappeared when i didn't need her, but looked for me and found me at regular intervals. She makes light of her contribution on her blog, but her 'shining red bull ' moment was when she anticipated my needs and brought me a glass of energy drink just at the point before i was going to collapse (as we all know, Red bull after the collapsing moment is not effective). It was because of her that i was able to enjoy the night and stay up till 3. The castle was exclusively ours so yes, the partying went up till breakfast time, i was informed. Bubu aka
superen, or the 'Bridesmaid without portfolio'. This meant that Bubu was in the bridal party without a sexy dress, which i suspect is what she wanted. Both she and Pinny were there every day for one year leading up to the wedding, discussing ideas, proof reading documents, and offering advice. Before the wedding, she and Pinny stayed with my family and she ran errands with Pman and Pinny and just made everything so easy and convenient. On the wedding day itself, my mother decided to boss her around and while the bridesmaids were indisposed with their make-up (applied by the talented and wonderful Lucinda), Bubu was holding the fort. Between carrying luggage and pouring champagne she practised my vows with me many many times. During the photo shoot she carried shawls and bags, and then held them behind her back when i insisted that she join in. My friendship with Bubu began when we were 8 and she was known as 'Karen'. When i first decided to call her Bubu, we were 9 and she hated the name and yelled at me when i used it in public. Ironic then, when she introduced her self as 'Bubu' during her bridesmaids speech she gave with Pinny! Folks - perseverance pays off!( There's more )
Typical Irish reserve and class
There is a lot more to say, but i'll figure it out when more photos become available. Love you all!
18 May 2009 @ 08:26 pm
Hello, here is a pic of my wedding car. This is but one of the many handmade items that made it special (and i'm sure no one noticed).
05 May 2009 @ 10:55 pm
4 days to d day! Pman and I drove to Ireland from Scotland on Saturday and we've been staying with his family in between visiting relatives and running errands.
We're now at the castle and my family , pinnards and superen are arriving tomorrow! I'm sooooo excited! Both pman and I are feeling ok, except we've both been having nightmares.
I dreamt that the Zombies were breaking into my cottage, like in I am legend and he dreamt that there were mass murderers leaving mutilated corpses around the hostel we were staying at. Move over walking down the aisle scare stories. This is far more serious!
Surely, this isn't meant to be this way, is it?
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28 April 2009 @ 10:36 am
Frankie Manning died yesterday morning. Because of that I'm very depressed and I'm sitting here, watching videos of him and feeling all tingly and close to tears. Most non swing dancers (that would be 99% of you) don't know who Frankie is, or what relevance he had in our lives. kopibren does a nice tribute to him in her blog here. In brief, he was a great dancer in the 30s and danced the Lindy hop and was famous in his time. He starred in Hollywood films and danced with Whitey's lindy hoppers. In the war, he took a back seat, and then worked in a postal office until the 80s, when a group of American Swing dancers ( Steve Mitchell and Erin Stevens? ), sick of watching old black and white videos, found the real man and brought him out of dance retirement, and helped begin the revival of Swing dancing throughout the world.
You see Swing dancing everywhere. Known as the Lindy Hop, we see it in the popular media like in the Gap Khaki ads, and even Strictly Come Dancing.
But there is something else that Frankie did which probably touches all 99% of you. He created the first 'aerial' in the 30s.
What's an aerial?
I quickly searched in you tube and found a salsa couple (the lady curiously dressed like Jodie marsh) who were doing aerials in a competition. An aerial is just a dance move done in the air.
Yup. Frankie's first aerial spawned a gazillion copycats and variations, but his was the original idea. So all the ballroom, tango, salsa, rock and roll dancers out there all have been touched by Frankie, in a tiny way, probably without knowing it.
Incidentally, this is Frankie doing the 'back flip' - the first aerial. He told us the story when he first did that move. he practised with his partner in his scummy room in Harlem and put a mattress on the floor. The poor girl kept on being slammed onto the floor until they finally learnt how to get it right, and on time. He told us that his mother was horrified to see his son sprawled on the mattress with a young girl when she came upstairs to check on the commotion! Then he unveiled the move in the Savoy ballroom in New York and won a dance competition (rather like those 'dance offs' we get in youth culture these days). I think evenskinnypinny and ickleoriental did that aerial in their cheer leading routine when they were 14 without knowing that Frankie, an old black dude in America, created a move that gave them their winning routine. In the clip, he then proceeds to the 'the pancake', which is something Pman and I learnt in camp. Too bad i can't do it in a wedding dress.
Most of us dancers have met Frankie in his long illustrious career. He made an effort to travel and to continue teaching throughout his old age. His legacy lives on. I only mourn that Pman never met him as the classes of his we had planned to attend in Ireland were cancelled due to an illness last year.
Rest in peace, sir.
kopibren does a nice tribute to him in her blog here. In brief, he was a great dancer in the 30s and danced the Lindy hop and was famous in his time. He starred in Hollywood films and danced with Whitey's lindy hoppers. In the war, he took a back seat, and then worked in a postal office until the 80s, when a group of American Swing dancers ( Steve Mitchell and Erin Stevens? ), sick of watching old black and white videos, found the real man and brought him out of dance retirement, and helped begin the revival of Swing dancing throughout the world. You see Swing dancing everywhere. Known as the Lindy Hop, we see it in the popular media like in the Gap Khaki ads, and even Strictly Come Dancing.
But there is something else that Frankie did which probably touches all 99% of you. He created the first 'aerial' in the 30s.
What's an aerial?
I quickly searched in you tube and found a salsa couple (the lady curiously dressed like Jodie marsh) who were doing aerials in a competition. An aerial is just a dance move done in the air.
Yup. Frankie's first aerial spawned a gazillion copycats and variations, but his was the original idea. So all the ballroom, tango, salsa, rock and roll dancers out there all have been touched by Frankie, in a tiny way, probably without knowing it.
Incidentally, this is Frankie doing the 'back flip' - the first aerial. He told us the story when he first did that move. he practised with his partner in his scummy room in Harlem and put a mattress on the floor. The poor girl kept on being slammed onto the floor until they finally learnt how to get it right, and on time. He told us that his mother was horrified to see his son sprawled on the mattress with a young girl when she came upstairs to check on the commotion! Then he unveiled the move in the Savoy ballroom in New York and won a dance competition (rather like those 'dance offs' we get in youth culture these days). I think even
skinnypinny and ickleoriental did that aerial in their cheer leading routine when they were 14 without knowing that Frankie, an old black dude in America, created a move that gave them their winning routine. In the clip, he then proceeds to the 'the pancake', which is something Pman and I learnt in camp. Too bad i can't do it in a wedding dress. Most of us dancers have met Frankie in his long illustrious career. He made an effort to travel and to continue teaching throughout his old age. His legacy lives on. I only mourn that Pman never met him as the classes of his we had planned to attend in Ireland were cancelled due to an illness last year.
Rest in peace, sir.
24 April 2009 @ 06:25 pm
2 weeks and 1 day to go.
What can i write? I have no idea. We haven't taken many interesting pictures, so i'll just put some pics that we took on our wedding planning weekend in feb.
This is the roundabout to my town!
View of church from the road..
The gatehouse leading into the castle grounds..
WOW! isn't that so glamorous! haha.
I've been having wedding related dreams lately. Pre hen night, it was a selection of nightmares. I dreamt that the make-up lady went away and i looked in the mirror and all i could see was my very oily face and unconcealed zits! Then i rushed about the venue but all my bridesmaids were nowhere to be found and none of them had my lip gloss and refused to help me, saying i looked fine whilst pouting in the mirror. Fecking self obsessed b*tches! All the guests were late and everyone saw me freaking out before i walked into the church.
I also dreamt that my chief bridesmaid was getting married too and me andsuperen were the bridesmaids, except she put us in long traditional Chinese martial arts type robes with large embroidered dragons at the back. She was in a scarlet red gown, with a giant hooped layered skirt and looked rather wonderful. Her wedding went fine though.
Post hen night my subconscious relaxed a bit. I now dream of my wedding day that went rather well, with just a few irritating hitches. One dream started when i was at the entrance of the church, but my father was nowhere to be seen. To my horror, i saw that he was already standing in front, with Pman! WTF!! He was supposed to walk me in! SO i had to just walk in without an escort. Or another dream was just me and the bridesmaids walking in too quickly, and then realising that the music started after we reached the alter ( i was at a wedding when that happened! ha ha).
Dammit.
So this is it. I can't do much with myself in two weeks. The zits will go, to be replaced with newer, fresher ones. My hair won't be longer. I was right in ordering the dress in my size instead of one size too small. I'm happy with myself but all dreams of being a supermodel will remain firmly as dreams. It looks like i'm not the type of bride who magically loses weight before the wedding nor loses her appetite. How disappointing. Then again, i'm not the type of girl to lose her appetite over a breakup, much to my (then) dismay.
3 people haven't RSVPed. I guess it's ok and I assume they are not coming, as one is in India, tiger watching in the forests, and the other couple.. well he quit the company, didn't leave me his personal email address, and i heard from the grapevine that he moved back home to Malaysia, whereas i sent the invite to London. He also works offshore.
That's ok.
It's all ok.
What can i write? I have no idea. We haven't taken many interesting pictures, so i'll just put some pics that we took on our wedding planning weekend in feb.
This is the roundabout to my town!
View of church from the road..
The gatehouse leading into the castle grounds..
WOW! isn't that so glamorous! haha.
I've been having wedding related dreams lately. Pre hen night, it was a selection of nightmares. I dreamt that the make-up lady went away and i looked in the mirror and all i could see was my very oily face and unconcealed zits! Then i rushed about the venue but all my bridesmaids were nowhere to be found and none of them had my lip gloss and refused to help me, saying i looked fine whilst pouting in the mirror. Fecking self obsessed b*tches! All the guests were late and everyone saw me freaking out before i walked into the church.
I also dreamt that my chief bridesmaid was getting married too and me and
superen were the bridesmaids, except she put us in long traditional Chinese martial arts type robes with large embroidered dragons at the back. She was in a scarlet red gown, with a giant hooped layered skirt and looked rather wonderful. Her wedding went fine though.Post hen night my subconscious relaxed a bit. I now dream of my wedding day that went rather well, with just a few irritating hitches. One dream started when i was at the entrance of the church, but my father was nowhere to be seen. To my horror, i saw that he was already standing in front, with Pman! WTF!! He was supposed to walk me in! SO i had to just walk in without an escort. Or another dream was just me and the bridesmaids walking in too quickly, and then realising that the music started after we reached the alter ( i was at a wedding when that happened! ha ha).
Dammit.
So this is it. I can't do much with myself in two weeks. The zits will go, to be replaced with newer, fresher ones. My hair won't be longer. I was right in ordering the dress in my size instead of one size too small. I'm happy with myself but all dreams of being a supermodel will remain firmly as dreams. It looks like i'm not the type of bride who magically loses weight before the wedding nor loses her appetite. How disappointing. Then again, i'm not the type of girl to lose her appetite over a breakup, much to my (then) dismay.
3 people haven't RSVPed. I guess it's ok and I assume they are not coming, as one is in India, tiger watching in the forests, and the other couple.. well he quit the company, didn't leave me his personal email address, and i heard from the grapevine that he moved back home to Malaysia, whereas i sent the invite to London. He also works offshore.
That's ok.
It's all ok.
21 April 2009 @ 03:10 pm
I'm looking at pictures posted up by friends and it looks like an awful lot of my acquaintances from school are getting married, getting divorced, getting pissed, or being embroiled in some wildly exciting yet shocking sex scandal. I feel so out of the loop. In some ways, it's great, because i never really liked 'the loop' anyway, and i was always nerdy and uncool and self selected myself out of the system. I rebelled against 'being popular' (probably because i was incapable of being so) but it is always nice to see people so consistency rich, friendly and shallow. It provides a lovely sense of security when you head home to the great little island of Singapore and still rest easy in the knowledge that they are still buying $200 worth of shots on daddy's credit card and offering it to random girls, like me. Now everyone's a bit bit fatter, a bit balding, and the wild girl groupies have been replaced by younger varieties, but it's still so nice to meet them in clubs and say 'HELLO!! i haven't seen you in AGES!!!'
And then be ignored because they never really took notice of me anyway.
I miss home.
Talking about other young things, my kitten has lost all her bed privileges because she peed on the duvet when we were still sleeping under it! I can't believe it! I thought she was doing so well, but when she was all cuddled up with me, she clawed me. Now, Marbles isn't aggressive, but she was just playing with me like she would with siblings - with claws. Her claw control gets better by the day but sometimes instinct kicks in and she can't help it.
As per the regular training, we said 'NO!' and put her down (in this case, shoved her off the bed).
Then she meowed a little, jumped up and did the terrible deed. It's ok. It didn't soak all the way through the mattress and I've discovered that the duck feathers in the duvet cover take well to the washing machine and doesn't need to be dry cleaned (the manufacturers are fooling us all!)
I can't decide if she was:
1) stressed- stressed cats pee inappropriately afterall
2) silly- as she is only 4 months old!
3) snooty- in the two incidents that she peed on our bed, it was on the supermarket brand cheapo low thread count duvet covers. ha ha ha.
Cat owners out there - is this normal behaviour to have accidents? Am i just being a psycho crazy mom to expect perfect behaviour in something too young? This is the second time she peed on our bed. The first was after a stressful day when the cleaner locked her in a cage for 3 hours and then i had a dinner party, destroying her routine. This time round - this was all apart of the routine. I don't understand her.
For those who say that i should wallop her- NO. i can't. Cats are like children with ADD. They only work with the reward system and the worse punishment you can give is to ignore them.
And then be ignored because they never really took notice of me anyway.
I miss home.
Talking about other young things, my kitten has lost all her bed privileges because she peed on the duvet when we were still sleeping under it! I can't believe it! I thought she was doing so well, but when she was all cuddled up with me, she clawed me. Now, Marbles isn't aggressive, but she was just playing with me like she would with siblings - with claws. Her claw control gets better by the day but sometimes instinct kicks in and she can't help it.
As per the regular training, we said 'NO!' and put her down (in this case, shoved her off the bed).
Then she meowed a little, jumped up and did the terrible deed. It's ok. It didn't soak all the way through the mattress and I've discovered that the duck feathers in the duvet cover take well to the washing machine and doesn't need to be dry cleaned (the manufacturers are fooling us all!)
I can't decide if she was:
1) stressed- stressed cats pee inappropriately afterall
2) silly- as she is only 4 months old!
3) snooty- in the two incidents that she peed on our bed, it was on the supermarket brand cheapo low thread count duvet covers. ha ha ha.
Cat owners out there - is this normal behaviour to have accidents? Am i just being a psycho crazy mom to expect perfect behaviour in something too young? This is the second time she peed on our bed. The first was after a stressful day when the cleaner locked her in a cage for 3 hours and then i had a dinner party, destroying her routine. This time round - this was all apart of the routine. I don't understand her.
For those who say that i should wallop her- NO. i can't. Cats are like children with ADD. They only work with the reward system and the worse punishment you can give is to ignore them.
26 March 2009 @ 04:01 pm
What happened to blogging?
Even people on Radio 4 are Twittering, which makes me think that I'm missing out. But i don't get Twitter. Some people export their Twitters to Livejournal so i get to read their one liners in one heap, and that's not very interesting as i would rather paragraphs of proper writing. Like Lady Gaga, Twitter just suddenly appeared and everyone loves it and I'm sitting there, scratching my head and wondering how a girl in various swimsuits and a bow in her hair could get so famous so quickly.
'Who on earth is lady gaga?' was her promotional picture on billboards around London the week before she launched her single or whatever in a charm offensive. By the way, is it true that Lady gaga is a man or a hermaphrodite?? Pman told me that.
Z: What is Twittering?! And why?
Kate: Well, it's the modern world. Information highway and all that. People have no time to call their friends, let alone sit down and write something. People want things fast fast fast and people don't hang around for more than a one liner.
Z: but what about ideas?
Kate: It's about speed, baby. Think about the Haiku, you can get an awful lot of meaning into a few words.
Z: Do you Twitter?
Kate: nope. Haven't seen a Twitter in my life.
Z: ?!
No wait.. maybe i can do this:
Even people on Radio 4 are Twittering, which makes me think that I'm missing out. But i don't get Twitter. Some people export their Twitters to Livejournal so i get to read their one liners in one heap, and that's not very interesting as i would rather paragraphs of proper writing. Like Lady Gaga, Twitter just suddenly appeared and everyone loves it and I'm sitting there, scratching my head and wondering how a girl in various swimsuits and a bow in her hair could get so famous so quickly.
'Who on earth is lady gaga?' was her promotional picture on billboards around London the week before she launched her single or whatever in a charm offensive. By the way, is it true that Lady gaga is a man or a hermaphrodite?? Pman told me that.
Z: What is Twittering?! And why?
Kate: Well, it's the modern world. Information highway and all that. People have no time to call their friends, let alone sit down and write something. People want things fast fast fast and people don't hang around for more than a one liner.
Z: but what about ideas?
Kate: It's about speed, baby. Think about the Haiku, you can get an awful lot of meaning into a few words.
Z: Do you Twitter?
Kate: nope. Haven't seen a Twitter in my life.
Z: ?!
No wait.. maybe i can do this:
24 March 2009 @ 10:19 pm
Marbles has been doing really well. After the initial few days, she gained a lot of confidence and stopped skulking around in the corners and shadows of the house. She is really lovely and affectionate and loves to cuddle with me on the couch. She kisses me on the nose and licks my face, grooming me like she would her mother or other litter mates. She doesn't, however, run to meet me at the door when i come home, but that's ok. One part of me wants that co dependency. The other part is relieved because i do want my cat to be normal and self sufficient and not hanker after me like a stalker. She runs about the place in breakneck speed and is very hyper active when she wants to play. She follows me around the house.. and i'm definitely her first love - NOT Pman. HAH!
We've got a good sleep time routine, where she is happy to go to her box and sleep. However, the mornings are tricky. I usually go to the loo in the mornings but i still want to go and snooze for a while after. She doesn't bother me when i'm asleep but when she thinks i've gotten up (from the loo visit) she feels rejected when i close the bedroom door on her (no cats on the bed is still the rule). Initially she didn't mind and played with her own toys. However, she is getting rather attached to us so she meows at the door, begging to be let in. She doesn't meow too loudly so i hope with the right mix of ignoring her and distracting her (calling the phone outside), she might rid herself of the habit.
We'll see.
Here's a short video of her playing fetch with a lavender herb pouch i got from Provence when i was visiting Clem. She is wearing a harness and in a few days she'll be ready for her first walk in the garden on a leash!
We've got a good sleep time routine, where she is happy to go to her box and sleep. However, the mornings are tricky. I usually go to the loo in the mornings but i still want to go and snooze for a while after. She doesn't bother me when i'm asleep but when she thinks i've gotten up (from the loo visit) she feels rejected when i close the bedroom door on her (no cats on the bed is still the rule). Initially she didn't mind and played with her own toys. However, she is getting rather attached to us so she meows at the door, begging to be let in. She doesn't meow too loudly so i hope with the right mix of ignoring her and distracting her (calling the phone outside), she might rid herself of the habit.
We'll see.
Here's a short video of her playing fetch with a lavender herb pouch i got from Provence when i was visiting Clem. She is wearing a harness and in a few days she'll be ready for her first walk in the garden on a leash!
14 March 2009 @ 07:01 pm
Hi everyone, this is Marbles.
She is 13 weeks old, fully vaccinated and very healthy. She's a Bengal Kitten, and ever so well brought up. She doesn't scratch, she loves to play, and she is litter trained. She is also well socialised and isn't afraid of people, dogs, the TV and washing machines. She's got an amazing mother (breeder) who is very contactable and has given me two page detailed instructions on how to feed her (with suitably expensive kitten food, of course!).
What she isn't, is Hunter. Like with ex boyfriends, i cannot help but compare and contrast the differences between them. I now know that Hunter was an extremely confident, almost cocky cat. And i loved it. That said, Hunter was terrible at car journeys, but Marbles just kept quiet and only meowed for a few minutes before settling down (into Hunter's green fleece blanket). When Hunter first arrived, she walked out of the bathroom and surveyed the area. She felt sad and scared and slept on my lap all night. After that, she was confident and fearless as she inspected the rooms in my house and chose her favourite areas. She was the same in other peoples' houses and Hunter was so happy to visit my friends.
Marbles is not like that.We had trouble getting her out of her travel box and putting her into the litter tray. After that, she stalked the area. She was like a spy, clinging and skulking along the walls, chairs, furniture. She was terrified of leaving the bathroom and felt that the tile/carpet boundary was an electric fence. She was so timid that she always found the darkest most inconvenient places to hide - underneath the bathroom cupboards (which was full of dirty pipes and covered by the skirting board) and under the bed. It drove us ballistic. Hunter wasn't like that. I would say NO! and she would freeze and desist. Marbles would just bolt into the forbidden area. It makes me realise that when i go away on weekends, Marbles, unlike Hunter, wouldn't want to live with my friends. She would be so scared that she would rather stay home alone.
That said, Marbles doesn't really scratch. I can see that she only attacks permitted materials like her toys and does her best not to scratch my skin. She does, however, climb up my jeans leg to sit on my lap and it hurts. Her claws also come out when i try to carry her or move her against her will. The worst thing is that Marbles doesn't really like being carried by me. I've seen the breeder hold her and rub her belly to Marbles' delight, but Marbles hates the way i carry her (maybe this will change after we both get used to each other). Marbles doesn't like sitting on peoples' shoulders as well. :( . She does, however, love sitting on my lap and sleeping. And she is conditioned to purr when she is touched by a human, no matter how scared and frightened she is. She has been brought up well.
Marbles is beautiful. I mean, more gorgeous than Hunter. Her pelt is soft and luxurious, and she is a short haired cat, which means that i need never subject her to the grooming comb like i did with Hunter. Her marbled markings are striking and 'show quality' and i can't help but feel proud of her because she is the cat equivalent of a slinky pair of Louboutin heels. And she is used to being handled, which means that i can play with her paws and hind legs and she won't involuntarily scratch me or shrink away.
Marbles is also very agile and totally obsessed with playing. Much more so than Hunter, but that was probably because Hunter was sick from the start. Marbles is not motivated by food. She also doesn't really listen to me, even though i know she likes me. I wonder if i can train her as well as i did Hunter.
Finally, for now, i feel that Marbles isn't as affectionate as Hunter was. Maybe it was the confidence.. Hunter used to follow me around the house like a love sick puppy. Marbles hides away. I wonder if Marbles will greet me at the door when i come home like Hunter used to. She certainly doesn't rub herself against me when i check on her at night in the bathroom like Hunter did.
It's been less than 24 hours, so we'll see.
She is 13 weeks old, fully vaccinated and very healthy. She's a Bengal Kitten, and ever so well brought up. She doesn't scratch, she loves to play, and she is litter trained. She is also well socialised and isn't afraid of people, dogs, the TV and washing machines. She's got an amazing mother (breeder) who is very contactable and has given me two page detailed instructions on how to feed her (with suitably expensive kitten food, of course!).
What she isn't, is Hunter. Like with ex boyfriends, i cannot help but compare and contrast the differences between them. I now know that Hunter was an extremely confident, almost cocky cat. And i loved it. That said, Hunter was terrible at car journeys, but Marbles just kept quiet and only meowed for a few minutes before settling down (into Hunter's green fleece blanket). When Hunter first arrived, she walked out of the bathroom and surveyed the area. She felt sad and scared and slept on my lap all night. After that, she was confident and fearless as she inspected the rooms in my house and chose her favourite areas. She was the same in other peoples' houses and Hunter was so happy to visit my friends.
Marbles is not like that.We had trouble getting her out of her travel box and putting her into the litter tray. After that, she stalked the area. She was like a spy, clinging and skulking along the walls, chairs, furniture. She was terrified of leaving the bathroom and felt that the tile/carpet boundary was an electric fence. She was so timid that she always found the darkest most inconvenient places to hide - underneath the bathroom cupboards (which was full of dirty pipes and covered by the skirting board) and under the bed. It drove us ballistic. Hunter wasn't like that. I would say NO! and she would freeze and desist. Marbles would just bolt into the forbidden area. It makes me realise that when i go away on weekends, Marbles, unlike Hunter, wouldn't want to live with my friends. She would be so scared that she would rather stay home alone.
That said, Marbles doesn't really scratch. I can see that she only attacks permitted materials like her toys and does her best not to scratch my skin. She does, however, climb up my jeans leg to sit on my lap and it hurts. Her claws also come out when i try to carry her or move her against her will. The worst thing is that Marbles doesn't really like being carried by me. I've seen the breeder hold her and rub her belly to Marbles' delight, but Marbles hates the way i carry her (maybe this will change after we both get used to each other). Marbles doesn't like sitting on peoples' shoulders as well. :( . She does, however, love sitting on my lap and sleeping. And she is conditioned to purr when she is touched by a human, no matter how scared and frightened she is. She has been brought up well.
Marbles is beautiful. I mean, more gorgeous than Hunter. Her pelt is soft and luxurious, and she is a short haired cat, which means that i need never subject her to the grooming comb like i did with Hunter. Her marbled markings are striking and 'show quality' and i can't help but feel proud of her because she is the cat equivalent of a slinky pair of Louboutin heels. And she is used to being handled, which means that i can play with her paws and hind legs and she won't involuntarily scratch me or shrink away.
Marbles is also very agile and totally obsessed with playing. Much more so than Hunter, but that was probably because Hunter was sick from the start. Marbles is not motivated by food. She also doesn't really listen to me, even though i know she likes me. I wonder if i can train her as well as i did Hunter.
Finally, for now, i feel that Marbles isn't as affectionate as Hunter was. Maybe it was the confidence.. Hunter used to follow me around the house like a love sick puppy. Marbles hides away. I wonder if Marbles will greet me at the door when i come home like Hunter used to. She certainly doesn't rub herself against me when i check on her at night in the bathroom like Hunter did.
It's been less than 24 hours, so we'll see.
12 March 2009 @ 11:00 pm
"Once there was an artist, and he spent his time chipping at a rock to make a sculpture. When his sculpture was complete, they praised him, and said 'What a great artist!' But he replied 'i am no artist. I've merely chipped away the rock that was hiding the art that was already there'"
"And that's what we've done with you, John Rambo. You were always an undefeatable soldier. We just chipped away the rough edges and revealed what you really were."
Can you believe that we're on our third night of Pman imposed Rambo watching? Damn ITV4 and our shiny telly that have conspired to put me in this misery.
Rambo does, however, address important social issues. We first meet him in Rambo 1 where he is a shell shocked soldier returning to America from the war in vietnam. He clearly exhibits the Gulf War syndrome, 8 years before the Gulf War was fought. He is picked up by the police, not given the respect and sensitivity he deserves with his mental condition and he went nuts. The policemen tried to attack him, resulting in him going to war (his natural operational mode), dressing himself in animal skins and doing some guerrilla warfare in the middle of the American jungle. Against policemen.
In Rambo 2 they returned him to his natural habitat of fighting in the jungle and he did what he did best.
Tonight, we're watching Rambo 3. The film opens with Rambo fighting with sticks in a Thai fighting arena and he is ripped and rather lovely looking. He tries to be a construction worker in Thailand (i suppose the boys feed his insatiable hunger) but he is tracked down by his former commander and is told to go to Afghanistan to save another American Colonel who is being kept in a Russian prison torture camp (rather like Abu Ghraib).
The Americans are fighting the Russians in a proxy war in Afghanistan by providing the rebels with weapons whilst the Russians are just bombing the place. Sound familiar?
There is a classic quote in Rambo, where the American colonel tells his russian torturer something like "Don't you know the Afghans will never give in to foreign invaders? We've learnt that from Vietnam. Afghanistan is your vietnam and you will never win.... "
Why didn't George Bush learn from Rambo? Why didn't anyone learn from Rambo?
Anyway, Rambo is a classic case of a sociopath who is built for war and death. When he is taken out of the war arena he is useless. It was fortunate that he was trained to fight for governments instead of for money but i think he's just in it for the excitement. He kills indiscriminately.
"Is he some kind of God? No. God would have mercy"
"And that's what we've done with you, John Rambo. You were always an undefeatable soldier. We just chipped away the rough edges and revealed what you really were."
Can you believe that we're on our third night of Pman imposed Rambo watching? Damn ITV4 and our shiny telly that have conspired to put me in this misery.
Rambo does, however, address important social issues. We first meet him in Rambo 1 where he is a shell shocked soldier returning to America from the war in vietnam. He clearly exhibits the Gulf War syndrome, 8 years before the Gulf War was fought. He is picked up by the police, not given the respect and sensitivity he deserves with his mental condition and he went nuts. The policemen tried to attack him, resulting in him going to war (his natural operational mode), dressing himself in animal skins and doing some guerrilla warfare in the middle of the American jungle. Against policemen.
In Rambo 2 they returned him to his natural habitat of fighting in the jungle and he did what he did best.
Tonight, we're watching Rambo 3. The film opens with Rambo fighting with sticks in a Thai fighting arena and he is ripped and rather lovely looking. He tries to be a construction worker in Thailand (i suppose the boys feed his insatiable hunger) but he is tracked down by his former commander and is told to go to Afghanistan to save another American Colonel who is being kept in a Russian prison torture camp (rather like Abu Ghraib).
The Americans are fighting the Russians in a proxy war in Afghanistan by providing the rebels with weapons whilst the Russians are just bombing the place. Sound familiar?
There is a classic quote in Rambo, where the American colonel tells his russian torturer something like "Don't you know the Afghans will never give in to foreign invaders? We've learnt that from Vietnam. Afghanistan is your vietnam and you will never win.... "
Why didn't George Bush learn from Rambo? Why didn't anyone learn from Rambo?
Anyway, Rambo is a classic case of a sociopath who is built for war and death. When he is taken out of the war arena he is useless. It was fortunate that he was trained to fight for governments instead of for money but i think he's just in it for the excitement. He kills indiscriminately.
"Is he some kind of God? No. God would have mercy"