I walked into the door in a great mood- but for some reason we are all REALLY grumpy.

I think it has something to do with the fact that for two weeks we need to track every single task that we do. The idea is to prove to the developers how long it takes to do certain tasks so they can find ways to make it more better.

Like anything that is really Orwellian it has us slightly on edge and it doesn’t cover all the bases of what we do. For example there is no category for ‘Whinging In IM’, ‘Job Search Somewhere, Anywhere Else’ or ‘Plotting The Painful Death Of Your Co-Workers’.

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The English Patient is on TV. When I first watched it ten years ago, I thought it was the 2nd longest movie on the planet. (The first being The Adventures of Baron Munchausen). Worse than being over long, it bored me. I don’t care how long something is if it can hold my attention it’s good. Ten minutes can feel like an eternity in Satan’s mouth.

Now, I’m not bored and I’m enjoying it, although will need to go to bed before it is over because the thing is still 162 minutes and with commercials that is just impossible.

I wonder what is different between the 26 and 36 year old Nicole. . . I have ideas. . . But I wonder. . .

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While I am no longer Catholic, I think I may need to celebrate Mardi Gras today (or pancake day as they say here).

My plan is to buy some pasta, a bottle of red and a chocolate cake. I am then going to eat the entire thing.

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A friend of ours is experiencing domestic strife and will be sleeping on our sofa until they find new living arrangements. This got me thinking about my past domestic and singleton nightmares and how good it is that I don’t live on planet evil idiots anymore.

While there are times when I know Stuart could happily strangle me and when I could beat him with a stick, I am so happy that he is my fella. . .

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You can watch them here.

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All week I read Northern Lights the first part in the His Dark Materials Trilogy. . . Fantastic book. I don’t care that it’s considered children’s literature.

Yesterday I started the 2nd book, The Subtle Knife. I stopped about 100 pages before the end last night so I could enjoy the end after a good nights sleep.

Stuart and I woke up around 6:30 and were lying there talking a little before we fell back asleep.

“How far did you get in the book?”

“I have another 100 pages or so.”

“Did XXX die yet?”

!!!!!!

“NO XXX didn’t DIE yet! What is wrong with you!”

“You said that you had a 100 pages left.”

“I do! But they haven’t. . . WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!” I rolled away and the gulf in the bed was wide with his sin.

At nine I woke up and finished the last 100 pages and I cried when XXX died. It would have been a lot more painful if I hadn’t known about it. I would have enjoyed the story that much more.

Stuart is only now on the third book. I think I will need to finish it before he does, which won’t be hard because I read faster than anyone I’ve ever met, and then I can tell him how the whole shebang ends. . .

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There have been a few times where I have linked over to In Fact, Ah. . . They are up for consideration in a few categories for the Irish Blog awards– Best Blog, Best Group Blog, Best Music, Best Designed, Best Arts & Culture and Best Sport.

Go vote for them here before 5PM GMT today!

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. . .next time that drinking on a school night and then staying up until 1:30 in the A of M while not the dumbest thing a person could do. . . such as say– invade Iraq. . . it isn’t the smartest thing either. . .

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It’s over now. Thank God.

I think that Valentine’s Day is an evil, evil thing.

I remember when I was little it meant staying up for ages to write out cards for everyone in your class (even for the boy that ate paste that you didn’t like who you will end up dating 18 years later and when you break up with him– out of curiosity – only out of curiosity mind you– you will still read his horoscope and his blog and when you see women looking cozy with him on his uploaded flickr pics you will cackle to yourself and think ‘just wait until they realize he is evil’ but then part of you wonders if the evil one is you—I mean they look so cute cuddling on the beach—but then you remember there were pictures like that that he had taken with you and it’s not that you want him back- Jesus- fuck- god no- You just want every female on the planet to know that even though you don’t want him anywhere near you and even though he has a Rainman ability to talk about music and movies, he hasn’t taken his medication for a long, long LONG time which means he will be a freak to your friends and drink all of your good booze and pass out and snore really loudly—after. . . a-hem. . .

I’ll get me coat,

Another boyfriend who was a friend for a very long time – who I recently cut off when he stopped acting like a friend ought to—when we were together became rather verbally violent (five- six years ago or so) when I opened his V-day present and didn’t achieve a pre-determined level of ooooooooooo suuuuuuperrrrrrrrrrr awessssommmmmmmeeeee (insert orgasmic expletive here)

The gift was—

A silicon dildo.

A PURPLE silicon dildo.

Yeahhh. What every girl wants. Not that I was complaining exactly.

So wa’ ‘appened.

I open a present, Big Purple Dick Inside A Box.

I laughed.

If I may ask, what would you do if you opened a box and found a big purple dick inside?

I’m just saying.

Even if you wanted a big purple Justin Timberlake- (keep in mind he was still just a Mouseketeer) dick in a box you would probably giggle. . .

Anyhoo, I laughed– but since he and I had been having problems—him being psychotic and all, my giggling at the purple (his favourite colour) member didn’t go over well.

At work in America, V-Day was always about chicks getting big stupid arrangements of flowers from big stupid idiot boyfriends/husbands/girlfriends/themselves that left the big stupid idiot chicks that didn’t receive the big stupid idiot arrangement feeling like they were lacking something—like they missed the class on how to give head or something. Even when I was one of the big stupid idiot chicks that got the big stupid idiot arrangement, I felt like a big stupid fake half (most) the time. . . but maybe that’s just because I wished my boyfriend would be hit by a bus.

Luckily there wasn’t that problem in my department today. Not one stupid arrangement.

Maybe it’s an English thing.

Oh yes. Sorry. Errum. No. We don’t go for big stupid arrangements of flowers that indicates some level of general feeling. No. No. We would much rather. . . well. We’ll talk later in the cab when we don’t think anyone is listening- but yes. It is VERY naughty indeed. . . Oh yes, you bad, bad, naughty dirty girl. . .

Sorry. I’m spiralling.

Valentines Day was something that that my dad would always try to do something a little special. A box of chocolate. A card. It made me a touch grumpy for a while as a young adult when I realized that dad was a fuck fit and that most men – in fact everyone actually was a fuck wit. . .
I was a ball at parties.

Stuart doesn’t ‘ do’ V-Day. At first this bothered me. Now I think it is fantastic. I would so much rather have a man in my life that buys me a book on a random Saturday because he knows I would like it verses candy, dinner, new panties (well actually I can do with some more pants) etc.

I must admit I couldn’t help myself and I had a plant sent to him today. The best part is Mr. Anti-gift loved it.

So V-Day, I’ve hated it for ages- but today was nice. I woke up cuddled against Stuart. I had drinks and a meal with him and some of his work mates. As soon as I spell check this I will be ending the day cuddled next to that annoying pain in the ass.

I think it might be the best Valentines’ Day ever. . .

But it’s over now.

Thank God.

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The benefit of not drinking for a bit is after two glasses of (red) wine (plus two large Cobras) you are lashed.

The negative of not drinking for a bit is after trp . . . my drunk ass means too, to, i mean two or 2 yes 2 that’s it my g-d trp glasses of (red) wine (plus trp large Cobras) you are lashed.

I’m just saying. . .

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