facts of randomness

I am tres slack. Bernice tagged me for five things and have I done it? I have not. I have had a massive week at work and lo, it was crap and sucked the will to live from me, verily. So here we go:

RULES (v. important)
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog.
2. Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3. Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names, and links to their blogs.
4. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

I don’t get enough sleep. I get extremely tired around 3pm (work nap? oh I wish), then again at 7-8pm, then come right with boundless energy at about 9.30pm. I know I am tired right now, but it’s 12.45am and I don’t feel tired at all. I WILL feel this in the morning. I am a night person stuck in a day world. The sun! It BURRRRNS!

This dog sleeps 22 hours a day and yet is always up for a nap.

I would have said I am not a skirt person, but this whole NaBloShoeThing has made me rethink this: it seems that in reality, I wear skirts to work all the time. I think it’s because it looks dressed up with no effort. I actually feel the same way about heels: as long as they’re comfortable, you look like you’ve put some thought into what you’re wearing. Whereas my average thought process takes around 20 seconds: is this clean? Well, then, where are some clean things? Does this clean thing need ironing? Can I find a clean thing which doesn’t need ironing? Then this is the thing I’m wearing.

Metallicus skirts never need ironing. Bless them.

The number of animals in this household has gone up to eight. Well, it was eight on Sunday when Mr. T bought home five goldfish & some oxygen weed to live in the rainwater overflow barrels. (They were to eat the mosquito larvae which had started to breed in the water.) As of today, Friday, we can only find one. Here fishy fishy fishy?


I dream about work a lot. There’s nothing more exhausting than waking up in the morning and realising you’ve done your job all night. That sucks.

I don’t have a photo for this one.

For someone who hates people looking at me, I do a lot of stupid things. Last week two co-workers were in one of our glassed-walled meeting rooms, on a phone conference. To make them laugh and get them to disrupt the phone hookup, I did a wild, flailing dance from my side of the glass wall. I forgot that my side also contained the entire rest of the office, who were all looking at me with great interest when I turned around. Ah well. Fuck ’em.

Set my dog on them, I will!

I’m not tagging anyone as it’s too late and all normal people are abed. Lucky, lucky sods.

happy feet

So I took a photo yesterday, but forgot to post it, as – in an interesting twist – I went to the doctor to ask about a shooting pain in my foot. I know! It’s like a theme! Turns out I have an aggravated nerve, or something. I sort of lost focus when he measured my feet and pointed out that the left one was bigger than the right. I then told him about my winter quest to Make Those Shoes Fit, a.k.a. the Nine West Heels of Pain. He agreed trying to stretch shoes with only the power of my mind is bound to be painful on the feet, particularly if one of the feet is a Giant Mutant 5mm wider than the other. So I’m pretty sure that’s what’s done it, and since it’s coming into summer and it will be all about the open shoe, he thinks the nerve will come right. Which is good. Because nobody likes an aggravated nerve. God only knows what could happen.

Anyway, here are my shoes from Thursday. Yes they are the gold versions of the black ones. They’re new and they don’t aggravate my nerve (that sounds sort of dirty) so I wear them a lot. Go to Flickr if you want the extensively annotated botanical listing.

And this was today. Actually, it wasn’t really as I wore the black ones AGAIN. However this is after I got home and was going out again to pick up dinner. It was 30 degrees today so Havaianas are perfectly acceptable, I think. And they don’t get on my Nerve.


Hey, so OK, apparently there’s this thing where instead of posting once per day, you take a photo of your shoes once per day. Now THAT is something I can totally get behind. If I had known this at the start of November, you might have heard a bit more from me. What? It’s not like I had anything important to say. And if this shoe thing keeps up, you might want me to disappear back to whence I came.

Here are my shoes from today, after I got home from work.

For some reason, at the moment the cat finds everything I do FASCINATING. He follows me around and watches me. He’s a nice cat. Except yesterday I emailed Mr. T and asked if I could get an orange cat and call it Colonel Mustard. He said no. Which is why I asked him, because another animal is not something we need. But still! Colonel Mustard! I would call him “the Colonel”. Genius.


I get nabloplomo and movember mixed up. Throw in some ‘o’s and I’m all askew. Also, I’m not signing up for either. My work is a massive Movember sponsor and I have received no less than a dozen emails asking me to sign up to someone’s team, including the CEO. (Disclaimer: probably was not the CEO, but whatever.) Keep in mind that most guys LOVE growing moustaches and you can imagine my workplace will be a sort of throwback to the seventies in several weeks. And they TOUCH them all the time. Creepy. I keep yelling, “Nya-ah-ah! It is I, Dishonest John!” but they are all youngsters barely out of short pants and they look at me blankly.

I counted out all the change lying around the house and took it all to the bank again this morning. Then a collector came to the door tonight, gamely standing his ground with only a screen door between him and what must have seemed to be a Hound of Hell, baying and stamping and puffing gusts of hot breath through the wire . And of course I had no change to give him. I scraped up some gold coins from the bottom of my handbag (thinking “bugger there goes my parking money”) and wished him godspeed. Well, I had to do something, brave soul that he was.

I made spaghetti sort-of-carbonara onight for dinner OH MY GOD THE CAT HAS JUST POKED HIS HEAD OUT FROM UNDER THE COUCH, DIRECTLY UNDER ME, THAT WAS REALLY SURREAL and had to pour out the bacon fat after I cooked the bacon. I won’t pour fat down the sink and hate figuring out what to do with it. This time, I poured it directly onto the slice of roast pork saved from last night’s roast, and destined for the dog’s dinners. They should treat me like a GOD. …oh wait, they do.

Whilst cooking, I forced iTunes to play the soundtrack from Across the Universe, which was better than I was expecting. However it’s quite a short soundtrack, and by the time I had finished cooking and had moved to the lounge for eating, iTunes had moved on to the next A, which was Aerosmith. And I would not get up and change it. (The collector guy arrived right in the middle of Love In An Elevator, and I was slightly embarrassed, but not enough to hit shuffle.) Then two songs I did not know came on, and this is because we have the Billboard Top 100 Hits from every year from 1980 – 2003, which is way, WAY too much 80s and 90s music. iTunes tells me this was After 7, a group I have never heard of, but I do know that they had a top 100 Hit in both 1990 and 1995. It was awful, and I was sort of twitching, but I STILL would not get up to change it. Now we are onto Air, more specifically the Virgin Suicides soundtrack, and I like Air but this is quite maudlin and I am close to despair. Woe! Hopefully we will move onto something good soon.

I just checked, and you know what it is?

Air Supply.

Send help. Or someone able to hit a Shuffle button.